Page 6 of A Little Jaded

Nostrils flaring, Drake steps even closer, crowding Everett in the nearly empty hallway. “And maybe you have no fuckin’ clue what you’re talking about.”

“And maybe you should back the hell up and remember where you are,” Everett snaps, refusing to back down orcower under Drake’s scrutiny. It’s impressive. Or it would be if I wasn’t so scared right now.

The testosterone floating in the air burns my throat as I breathe it in, my eyes darting from Drake to Everett and back again. They’re nose to nose. Chest to chest. Everett has a little less weight than Drake, but it’s close. Really close. If I didn’t personally know the power behind Drake’s punch, I’d think there was a chance for Everett to walk away the victor, but I’m not stupid. Drake isn’t afraid to fight dirty. He isn’t afraid of anything. Anything except me abandoning him.

I should get someone. One of Everett’s teammates, maybe? I don’t really know, but standing here with my hands at my sides makes me feel helpless. Useless.

A door opens at the end of the hall. The hinges creak, and the heavy metal slams against cinderblock, followed by loud laughter. It’s Everett’s teammates. They’re coming this way.

Drake tilts his head, registering the footsteps growing closer as he continues glaring at Everett.

What are you going to do, Drake?I want to ask but keep my mouth shut. This is LAU’s stomping ground. Not Drake’s. Not mine. And if things go south, I have no doubt Everett’s teammates will happily jump in to defend their center. Drake has to know this.

Doesn’t he?

“See you around, dipshit,” Drake finally growls. He steps back and pins me with his stare. “Raine. I’ll see you at home. Right?”

I nod, too stunned to speak.

Satisfied, he leaves, taking the last of the oxygen with him as I rest my back against the wall and watch him go.

When the exit door slams closed, letting us know we’re finally alone, I breathe in deep, only for it to catch in my throat as a lineup of LAU players round the corner.

“Hey, man,” one of them greets Everett. “You comin’ to SeaBird?”

“I’ll meet you there,” Everett offers.

His friends spot me, and one of them grins. “Oh. Hey.”

“Hi,” I mumble.

The guy turns to Everett but tilts his head toward me. “Who’s this?”

“I’m no one,” I interject.

With a slight smirk, he turns back to me. “Hello,No One. I’m Griffin.” He offers me his hand. “Griffin Thorne. Nice to meet you.”

Griffin Thorne. I’d recognize the name anywhere. The guy’s practically hockey royalty, thanks to his dad, Colt Thorne. The infamous player holds multiple records during his time in the NHL, and if ESPN is correct, Griffin’s right on track to follow in his dad’s footsteps.

Drake hates the guy. Well, technically, he hates most of LAU’s lineup, including Everett and Reeves, but Griffin didn’t go unscathed during Drake’s constant rants, either. Something about his dad playing with Griffin’s dad in college and screwing up his career in the NHL, but what do I know? Yet, here’s Griffin. Being nothing but a gentleman.

Everett frowns as I take his friend’s hand and shake it once. “Nice to meet you, too.”

“Wanna come to SeaBird with us?” Griffin prods.

I’d laugh if the offer wasn’t so ludicrous. Drake would kill me if I was seen hanging out with the enemy. Well,enemies. And since I’m already on thin ice, I think I’ll pass.

“Can’t,” I give him a one-shouldered shrug. “Sorry.”

“No worries. Maybe next time.” He lifts his chin at Everett once more. “See you there.” He tucks his hands into his front pockets and moseys out the door while the rest of his entourage follow behind.

Once we’re alone again, I fold my arms and keep my chintucked as I head toward the exit, anxious to get the hell out of here.

“Wait,” Everett calls.

My feet stop moving as if they have a mind of their own, and I hate it. With a deep breath, I face Everett again. “What do you want?”

“Are you okay?”

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