The Understatement of the Year (The Ivy Years, #3)

by Sarina Bowen

Bella was a strange bird, but in the best possible way. A rich girl from the Upper East Side of Manhattan, she was the most rabid hockey fan I’d ever met, though her snooty parents (and I’d met them) had never seen a game, let alone the inside of a locker room. Nobody knew where Bella came by her enthusiasm for the sport. Her lust for hockey was exceeded only by her lust for the players. There weren’t exact figures, but I was pretty sure she’d slept with 75 percent of the team. Present company included.

“First the bad news. Over the summer, Bridger McCaulley dropped hockey, citing family hardship. I yelled at him for an hour, and it didn’t change things. So it must really be true.” An unhappy murmur traveled the room. That wasn’t good. McCaulley was a solid wing, and I’d always liked the guy. “The good news is that we have a new player, a transfer from Saint B’s. He’s a sophomore, forward line. So, the lord taketh away wings and he also giveth them back.”

Rikker

those big dark eyes, looking out from under a familiar mop of shiny dark hair

Rikker

Crossing that crowded room, I’d only gotten a glimpse of him. But a glance was enough to make me understand just how hard this was going to be. Because you never really get over your first love, right?

There weren’t any time-outs, though. Not in life, and not in hockey. So I was just going to have to deal with that shit later. Right now it was time to skate. And to say that I’d have something to prove to this team was the understatement of the year. The new guy always does, right? Now, take that typical burden, and multiply by a hundred. That’s what it was going to take once they heard my story.

I’ll take it under advisement.” “What, like you’re picking?” Hartley asked, refilling her beer. “I have keys to the AV system in the locker room. I’m really just pretending to consider your suggestions here.”

That’s how I met Graham — seventh grade Spanish.

“I should be a junior. But I took a post-grad year to play on the US development team.”

“Also, this is going to mess up a near perfect streak for me.” “Whenever you streak, I’m sure it’s perfect,” I quipped.

“I can’t make it to look like I was too afraid to tell them myself.” “It wouldn’t. Because the message they need to hear isn’t that Rikker likes dudes. The message they need to hear is that, by the way, Rikker was forced to leave the Saint B's team because he is gay. But at Harkness, that’s no concern of ours.” Well, damn. That did sound smart. “…And, if anybody has a problem with that, feel free to talk to Coach. Or play a different sport.” I put my hands on her shoulders. “Manager, you are a genius. And a total babe.” “New Guy, I know that already,” she said. “Both things.”

ran away, and Rikker spent the next week in a hospital. I didn’t visit him, and I never even called. Then he left the state.

“My shit was not together,” I agreed with him under my breath. He put a glass in my hand. “Figure it out, kid. We have a chance to do great things.” Then Coach left the room.

I didn’t want to be so sensitive to him. It’s just that I didn’t know how to stop.

everyone favored the dull suburbs. When I moved to Vermont for tenth grade,

Hell, just then, I wished he’d hit me. Because then I’d have a good reason to feel this insane.

He had that still-waters-run-deep thing going on.

My bruises throbbed again and my head began to ache. But the silence hurt worst of all.

“And take care in all the usual ways, boys. Say no to drugs, and drinking and driving. Yes to seat belts and condoms.”

Eventually the music picked up again, and we all danced ourselves silly. It had been a while since I’d had a night out like this, and I’d forgotten what dancing was for. It was such a release. (Like sex, only not as messy, and with less heartbreak.)

The place was crammed full of people who’d come to see a guy they didn’t know play in a sport they might not understand. But they were all watching.

The fact that Graham and I always ended badly was fucking written in the stars somewhere.

My arms were full of this beautiful boy, and each time I pressed my lips against him, it felt like coming home.

Graham buried his face in my neck. “It’s always been you for me. Always.”

“I gotta clean myself up,” he said eventually. “Hang tight. I’ll bring you a Zamboni.”

“News flash, Rik. Even though I possess a vagina, I’m still capable of driving a car.”

I was alone for the first time in a week. I sat down on my bed and pulled out my phone. Rikker answered on the first ring. “Hola, Miguel,” he said. “How’s the head?”

“When John moved away, you barely came out of your room for months,” she said. “And that’s what heartbreak looks like. We were both worried about you. At the time, we wondered.”

it hadn’t occurred to me that my parents deserved to know the important things in my heart. They were honest with me, and I hadn’t given them the benefit of the doubt. Looking at my mom’s face right then, I saw a lot of hurt. And here’s the crazy thing — I knew without a doubt that her sadness had nothing to do with the fact that Rikker was my boyfriend. And it had everything to do with my not telling her sooner. “I wish I’d said something before.” Not that I’d ever had the urge to. But I was beginning to understand why she deserved it.

“You’ve got to stop with that,” he said, his voice low and serious. “With what?” “You know what I mean. With always beating yourself up over the past. Something happened a long time ago that you regret. And you’re still dragging that around with you. Set that shit down, man.”

“Because I love you, you stupid fuck. And I always have. It’s not always so convenient, loving you. But when you climb out of that thick blond head of yours for a few minutes, you’re a hell of a lot of fun. And you’re loyal, too, in that tortured way of yours.”

“Getting along together was never the problem with you and me,” he said. “We’re both easy. It’s just the rest of the world that’s hard.”

When it shut behind me, I heard her voice. “I just love that boy.” “He’s taken,” Graham replied.

Right then, a little light went on inside my thick head. I already knew that my refusal to come out had hurt Rikker. But until that moment, I don’t think I ever understood that it had hurt me, too. Because the cost of avoiding unfriendly eyes wasn’t nearly as great as the cost of forgoing even one of Rikker’s hugs.

“I just miss you. Maybe I should have just let you sleep, but I love you too damn much.”

All the rest was, as Coach liked to say, noise.

I stepped into Graham’s personal space and wrapped my arms around him. “Thank you for telling off my mother instead of strangling her, like I wanted to. Because now I don’t have to visit you in prison.”

My whole life, I never got in the habit of saying what I wanted. I’ve got one year of college left. And I want to spend it on the things I choose.” He reached across the gearbox and put a hand on my chest. “All the things I choose. And mostly, I choose you.”

“You’re it,” I whispered. “A perfect ten on the Rikker scale.”