More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
I’ve never told anyone about my disordered eating because I know how people are going to look at me. They’re going to pity me. They’re going to offer me unwarranted advice and help and look at me like I’m sick.
He stares at me. I stare back at him. “You’re staring,” I point out. “You’re really beautiful, you know that?” I—huh?
Beautiful is a concept I never saw myself achieving—a standard that wasn’t meant for bigger girls like me. It just didn’t exist,
His calloused hand ghosts over the contour of my cheek. “Can I kiss you?” I’m so close to him that I can see the disproportionate reflection of myself in his pupils,
His eyes travel over my lips, conduits of anxiety zinging through every inch of me. I accept his invitation with a wordless confirmation, rising to my tiptoes and twining my arms behind his neck, slowly leaning in.
A melting pot of colors breaks through me when our lips acquaint themselves with each other, and I inhale him like the weight of the world has suddenly lifted off my shoulders. He tastes like a warm afternoon,
want to hold him closer; I want to deepen the kiss. His tongue prods at the seam of my lips, requesting passage, and I let him slip deeper into my mouth, allowing him complete access to the very threads of my DNA.
I delve my fingers into his back, scraping my nails through the soft material of his shirt. My peaked nipples brush against his chest as viscous arousal saturates my panties. A growl rumbles in the back of his throat, and he clamps his hands down on my waist, pulling me into him.
mewling when his lips leech on to the bone. He pulls the thin skin between his teeth, sucking, gnawing, then soothing the purpling bite mark with a lap of his tongue.
“I…want…” “What do you want, Aeris?” Hayes teases, stroking his hand up my stomach, and I try to suppress the shame and discomfort that comes from him touching the most insecure part of me.
Holy shit. Why did I let him kiss me? This is going to end badly, I just know it. My number one rule is to never let anyone in. And what’s the first thing I do? I let someone
His fingers work at lightning speed, and when he hands it back to me, his contact information is broadcasted across the screen. “Call me, okay?” The corners of my mouth hook up into a smile. “Okay.”
His lips make one last pass at my cheek, and then he’s out the door, headed to God knows where.
When people leave, they usually don’t come back. That’s something I’ve come to accept—that people will leave no matt...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
Anger is a quick-acting agent inside of me, and it short-circuits every nerve inside of my body. My game is off today, and Coach can tell. I hadn’t realized how much time had passed during breakfast. This was the first practice I’ve ever been late for.
If finding a way to remedy my reputation consists of flirting with a girl I met at a bar last night, then I definitely did come up with a plan.
“You don’t understand how career-breaking an affair like this can be. You happy with your life, Hollings? You like living recklessly on an NHL salary?”
“If you don’t fix this shit, you can say goodbye to everything you’ve worked so hard for. Not only that, but you need to give the world a reason not to assume anything. You need to play like your life depends on it, because it does.
“I get you have a life outside of hockey, but hockey should be your main focus. You know that. I’ve been patient with you, lenient. This is a privilege.” He’s right. This is a privilege. I’m lucky to be here, and I have to keep working my ass off to stay here.
Coach has been like a father figure to me, and all I want to do is make him and my team proud. I’m going to do what’s right.
Not second, not third, fourth. If you’re gonna play like an amateur, I’ll make sure your playing time gets cut in half.” “Understood, Coach,”
“Dude, where were you last night? You never came home.” His speech is slightly impaired by the hindrance of his mouth guard. “I was…at the bar.” “Oh, was it another one of your downward spirals?” “What? No! I just thought it might be a good distraction.”
We call him Big Cat because he’s a force to be reckoned with on the ice, and his tiger eyes tattoo is famously adored among the fans.
“Who are we talking shit about? Is it Micah? I hate that fucking guy. Always leaves his nasty ass gear all over the floor when he’s taking it off. And the dude never showers. Like ever.” “Aw, I like Micah,” Fulton says. “He let me have half of his tuna sandwich one time.”
“Our boy Hayes went on a bender last night.” Casen nods. “Fun, fun. Don’t know why it was so important that you had to call everyone over here, but…”
“Did you get your dick sucked?” Kit pipes up, his tongue playing along his bottom lip. Disgust contorts my features. “Did I get my—no, I didn’t get my dick sucked. And why is that your question for everything I do?” Kit shrugs. “I’m just trying to look out for you and your very sad sex life.” Fulton props his chin on the end of his stick, letting it take his weight. “Yeah, you have been really depressed after Macy.” I hate them. I hate them all.
“I slept with Sienna Talavera,” I disclose quietly, shame setting a flutter in my gut, like a loose cannon of confetti has gone off inside me.
Everyone stares at me with wide, bulging eyes. “What?” Bristol exclaims, hoisting an eyebrow. “I…slept…with our biggest sponsor’s daughter.”
It has to be some kind of sick joke that I managed to sleep with the one person who could cost me my career. Out of everyone at that party, I chose her
“I don’t know what to do. I’m so fucked. And then Coach found out about it, and if word gets out, there’s a chance I’ll get traded.”
person. “C’mon, Hayes. I doubt you’ll get traded over something like that. If Sienna never talks, then you’re all good.” “But what if she does talk?” My heart presses painfully against my ribcage, threatening to burst out Alien style. Kit considers me for a moment. “Then your reputation gets a little bit of a boost.”
I don’t need my name attached to my plays in the bedroom. I need it attached to my plays on the ice.
“Word won’t get out, Hayes. We’re gonna help you fix this. Right, guys?” All the guys give a unanimous “Mm-hm.” My confidence gutters as every negative thought rings through my head like alarm bells.
Me and some of my teammates live in a multimillion-dollar, Victorian-style home. It’s beautiful.
“Your life’s not over,” Bristol says, bringing me a cup of what looks to be tea. He’s been going through a weird grandma phase lately. He has this strange fascination with chamomile tea, gluten-free cookie recipes, and crocheting.
group consists of Bristol Brenner, center; me, right-winger; Fulton Cazzarelli, left-winger; Casen Strader, right defenseman; Kit Langley, left defenseman; and Gage Arlington, our goalie.
Bristol Brenner is my best friend, my wingman, and most importantly, the guy I c...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
Oh, and if I end up breaking my leg trying to turn my mattress into a stair-friendly sled. Which only happened once. Bristol is way more put together than I am. He’s a year older than me,
We’ve actually been friends since third grade, and it was just luck that we got drafted to the same team.
one of my peanut butter crackers. With no warning or anything. Then just ate it in front of me with this look like, Yeah, bitch, and I’d do it again.
next day, I decided to get back at him by uncapping all his Crayola markers so he couldn’t participate in arts and crafts. He didn’t seem to think I was very funny, considering he spent the entire afternoon insulting me in extremely colorful expletives. Expletives that were at least sixth grade level.
Not only did that crotch goblin glue me to my seat, but he also planted a stolen teddy bear in my cubby, drew a bunch of ill-proportioned dicks on my desk, and told my crush, Lizzie Vanderburk, that I had head lice. Needless to say, we spent a lot of time after class with Ms. Finch. And then we started to realize that we had a lot in common.
Over the years, I’ve seen him through his share of ups and downs too. But the biggest difference between me and Bristol is that he’s resilient, and he always springs back. He’s left that irresponsible and careless past of his behind, and now he’s the face of the Riverside Reapers for a reason.
Casen Strader is one of the most straitlaced hockey players I’ve ever met. He’s the team-appointed lover of the group. Fuck, that sounds wrong. I mean he’s the only guy in the group who’s currently in a long-term relationship.
When it comes to the ice, he’s made quite a reputation for himself as the Reapers’ notorious, rough-and-tumble defenseman. He’s also the grumpiest out of all of us.
but deep down, he’s secretly a huge teddy bear. Pretty sure I haven’t seen the man kill a fly.
Fulton Cazzarelli is the baby of the group. He’s two years younger than me, and he’s a rookie. We all joke that he’s like a golden retriever: overly fr...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
he usually has no idea what’s going on. But that apparently does it for a bunch of chicks—the whole c...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
Gage Arlington is his partner in crime. He’s more extroverted, more irresponsible, and the only other person besides me willing to break the law for fun. ...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
Kit Langley. Kit lived in Brazil with his family before coming over to the United States. He’s a trust fund baby, and he played for UMich before getting drafted to the team.
