Page 7 of Fault Line

“Well, that’s just great, then.”

“Is there an issue?” She raises one perfectly manicured brow. “I thought you were looking for a hookup tonight, anyway. And believe me when I say that these hockey players arehot.”

“Yeah, I just—I kind of know someone on the team.” My nose wrinkles, discomfort panging in the center of my sternum. “Someone I’m hoping we can avoid tonight.”

“What’s his name?”

“Uh, Holden? Holden Becker.”

“No shit?” Her blue eyes go wide, a soft sparkle in the mirror’s reflection. “How do you know him?”

“We share the same major. I might’ve mentioned him once or twice before.” I wave a flippant hand, feigning nonchalance. “You know that guy who constantly pisses me off?

Her brow scrunches as she racks her brain. “The one who glares at Elio for no reason?

“Yeah.”

“That’shim?” She swats me on the arm. “No freakin’ way. Why didn’t you mention he was the captain of the hockey team?”

“Didn’t feel relevant at the time.”

“Girl, that’s the most relevant part.” She runs her fingers through her strawberry blonde curls, fluffing them to utter perfection. As per usual, her appearance is flawless from head to toe. “Holden Becker is ridiculously hot. You do know that, right?”

“Yes, I’m more than aware.”

Her eyes light up at my admission, lips lifting in a not-so-subtle smirk. “Wait, do you have a little crush on him or something?”

“God, no.” I let out a humorless snort. “Did you hear what I just said? I can’t stand the guy.”

She stifles a giggle. “We all know there’s a thin line between love and hate, Kaia.”

“Sure, in some cases, but not with us. Trust me, there’s nothing but a thick, solid,completelyimpenetrable line separating the two of us.”

“Yeah, alright.” She shakes her head, muttering something about overcompensating under her breath. “So, if we see him tonight, then you don’t mind if I shoot my shot?”

“By all means, go right ahead. Just know he has an ego about the size of his daddy’s bank account.”

My family may be well-off, as Holden so kindly pointed out, but we have nowhere near the level of financial security that he does. He’s generationally wealthy. A trust fund baby. And I just happen to have parents who prioritize their careers over their family.

She leans forward, patting me softly on the shoulder. “Aw, it’s sweet you think I’d care about his personality.”

* * *

By the timethe Uber drops us off, I’ve convinced myself that I was worried over nothing. We’re not guaranteed to run into Holden tonight. In fact, the house is bound to be too overcrowded to even warrant concern. Or, if we’re lucky enough, he’ll already be busy showing some poor girl all his little gold medals and first-place trophies.

God knows what kind of bullshit lines he must spew at these parties.

As we hurry across the street, the sound of pounding music blares from the open windows. Lizzie nudges me with her elbow, nodding toward a couple that’s practically dry-humping on the front lawn. I give them silent kudos for the spectacle, then quickly divert my eyes to take in the rest of the scene.

Of course, these hockey boys are just as ostentatious as I assumed. Two giant stone pillars line their entryway, topped by a pair of hideous osprey statues. They must be at least three feet tall in height and even bigger in width.

Holy shit. I have to crane my neck to see the tips of their wings. It’s well known that D1 athletes pride themselves on their school spirit, but surely this is taking things to a whole other level.

Shaking my head at the absurdity, I let Lizzie take the lead. She links our arms together as we approach the front door, ringing the bell with her free hand.

“Do we not just go in?” I ask, confused by the sudden air of formality.

“Not at these parties, Kaia.” She gives me a patronizing smile, one that reminds me exactly how clueless I am about this stuff. “They’re invite only.”

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