Page 195 of Red Zone
His head snaps up, his eyes locking on the girl at the center of the group.
And everything about him changes.
The lazy grin is gone. His shoulders square up, his jaw tightens.
He straightens and shoves off the counter without another word, stalking toward her.
Her friends are still giggling, looking around like they’re here for a good time.
Logan looks like he’s ready to ruin hers.
I lean back, raising my beer to my lips, watching him close the distance.
Whatever’s about to happen…
It’s definitely not gonna be good.
I’m still watching Logan weave through the crowd, all wound up and locked in on her, when someone claps me on the shoulder.
“QB1,” a familiar voice drawls behind me.
I turn to see Grayson grinning, a beer in one hand and his other stuffed in his pocket.
He looks like he’s barely broken a sweat despite the chaos of the party. Hockey guys.
“Grayson,” I say with a faint smirk, reaching out to shake his hand.
Pulling his hand out of his pocket, he shakes mine before leaning casually against the counter next to me, scanning the room. “Didn’t think you’d show tonight. Heard you guys were celebrating your little football miracle.”
I huff a laugh and shake my head. “Not much of a miracle when we put in the work.”
Grayson raises his beer and clinks it against mine anyway.
“Well,” he says. “Congrats, Hayes. You guys earned it. Regionals ain’t easy, and you made it look good.”
I raise a brow at him and tip my beer back.
“Right back at you,” I reply, nodding toward him. “Congrats on your win too. That overtime goal was something else.”
Grayson’s grin widens at that, like he can’t help it.
“Not bad for a hockey boy, huh?” he teases, taking a sip.
“Not bad at all,” I admit, letting the corner of my mouth twitch up.
For a second, it’s easy to forget everything else—the tension in my chest, the ache I’ve been carrying around these last few weeks—just leaning against the counter with someone who gets it.
But then my eyes drift back to the beer pong table, where Beck is still putting on a show and Jaxon’s watching him quietly, phone still in his hand.
And a little further past them, I catch Logan again—standing nose-to-nose with her now, his voice low but sharp, her arms crossed defiantly over her chest.
Something tells me this night’s not done being interesting.
Not even close.
I lose track of what Grayson’s saying after a while. Something about playoffs and line changes and how the hockey guys are already planning a road trip if they make it to nationals.
I nod and smile where I’m supposed to, but my mind’s somewhere else entirely.
