Page 8 of Beneath the Surface

I had made it at this school, minding my business and ignoring the hockey games. Now, here I was with a press pass to get a front-row seat.

My life really was unfair.

The air in the arena was electric. You could feel the energy change as soon as you entered the building. The people at Blackwell Lake really loved their sport—especially hockey. Micah felt my presence as soon as I stood next to him. He looked up slowly, as if he was taking me in before our eyes locked. His eyes pierced me for a second. It was startling to get used to his penetrating gaze once more. He was wearing a Blackwell Lake University hoodie and a pair of fitted jeans. His hair looked a little on the messier side. If I had to guess, it was probably a bit of anxiety about everything happening, and he was taking it out on his hair.

Still, it looked good—he looked good. While Grayson and I took our frustrations out on the ice, it looked like Micah got his out at the gym.

“You came,” he stated.

I could feel my lips tip in an involuntary smile. He knew me too well, and I let myself find comfort in that fact.

“And leave you all alone for this thrilling game?”

Micah smiled at me—one of his genuine smiles, not the fake ones he handed out when his father was around.

“Your enthusiasm is noted,” he said as he patted the empty spot beside him.

I didn’t overthink what it would entail being in on this mess with Micah. His absence in my life had hurt, and although right now it still felt like old times in a way, there was a distance between us that wouldn’t go away unless we addressed it.

“How’s Grayson doing?” I found myself asking.

“Excited for the game.” Micah shrugged. “Dad has been working him hard. He says this is the best team he’s had in a while, and they have a chance at something great if they keep strong all season.”

“That’s a lot of games you’d be attending.” I raised a mocking brow at him.

Micah didn’t say anything else. He just used his elbow to tap my arm. Just then, the air changed, and the announcers began their introductions.

I stood up along with everyone else, seemingly transfixed as the players came out. Micah was ready with his camera when the team came out. My eyes, much like everyone else’s, went to Grayson. I could see why there were so many female fans in the stands. The way he filled out that jersey was most definitely a motive, but the way he moved around the ice was like a cobra ready to strike.

All the things you could say about Grayson, his dedication to the game was one of them. It was like he became someone else once he was in the rink. It took a lot of dedication to go pro, and Grayson Cross was highly motivated. Watching him like this, how he glided across the ice, and how he led his team made me realize I knew so little about him.

Grayson and I weren’t so different; at the end of the day, we both found peace when our blades hit the ice.

“It’s intense, isn’t it?” Micah leaned close and whispered in my ear. I felt his breath hot on my nape, and I instantly shivered.

Before I could say anything, I jumped when a puck hit the tempered glass before us. My heart started to beat faster, and I felt Micah’s hand grasp my arm to try and steady me.

I focused on the game when I noticed a blur making its way faster toward us. The player stopped briefly, and my eyes clashed with Grayson’s. His eyes were on me, and he let out a wolfish smile and winked.

Something coiled in my belly, and I gave him a small smile before I could delve too deeply into whatever feelings were coursing through me—it was better if I didn’t look too closely.

The game went on, and that coil I felt turned into dread.

There was no denying that all the things I tried to push down were for naught, because they were screaming at me to let them out. Now, I wondered if being with the guys was the first good decision I had made in a while or the worst.

We would have to wait and see.

5

CRUZ

Growing up on the streets, I learned two things pretty early on. The first was that life was an unfair bitch, and the second was that money, no matter how dirty it was, still meant power.

My view of the world became jaded as soon as I picked up on it. It was hard to grow up with rose-tinted glasses when you lived your life on the charity of others. Always two steps behind everyone else, and if, for some lucky reason, you managed to get ahead, you had someone more than happy to knock you back into the hole you crawled out of.

The thought left a bitter taste in my mouth. I had naively thought that getting out of the town of Blackstone would be a welcome change. It changed nothing because, once again, life was a bitch, and money was power.

I went from being under the thumb and accepting charity from Lorenzo Rivas, a shady motherfucker, to now being in the shadow of Ricky. He was the local drug lord in Blackwell Lake. Mostly everyone knew him as Big Dog, and he had a comfortable lifestyle funded by the privileged college population.

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