Page 71 of The Players We Hate
She sat up straighter, eyes narrowing on me. “You want to stay here and stew in stress, fine by me, but don’t expect me to sit back and watch you do it again.”
I shot her a look. “If this is about another hockey house party—”
She grinned, shaking her head. “Nope. Even better. It’s a barn party. Everyone’s going, and you’re coming with me.”
I arched a brow. “A barn?”
“Yes,” she said, as if it was obvious. “Out by the ridge. Rowdy’s family owns it. He throws one every spring. It’s a tradition. There’s a bonfire, string lights, and cheap beer. Half the school shows up sooner or later.”
“You want me to willingly go to a barn in the middle of nowhere with hockey players and spotty cell service?”
“Notnoservice,” she hedged. “Just… patchy.”
I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.
“I’m not asking you to do keg stands or hook up behind a tractor,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Just come with me. Put on something cute, and let yourself breathe for a night. That’s all.”
I leaned against the counter and closed my eyes for a second.
Part of me wanted to shut her down, crawl under a blanket, and lose myself in some social media doom scrolling. Maybe slap on a face mask and pretend I hadn’t just tucked a puck into someone’s truck like some bargain-bin vigilante. But I kept trying to ignore another part of me that knew she wasn’t wrong.
Maybe pretending to be normal for one night wouldn’t kill me.
I opened my eyes. “If I see hay bales, I’m leaving.”
“Noted. We’ve got thirty minutes, and I already queued up the playlist.”
She crossed the room without hesitation and went straight for my side of the closet, rifling through hangers like they all belonged to her. “Casual but cute,” she said, pulling things out at random. “Jeans, boots, that flannelyou never wear. If you want, I’ll curl your hair and do your makeup.”
“Alisa…”
“Nope. No arguing.” She yanked a hanger free and held it up like it was a prize. “This, with your leather boots. You’ll look hot and country-adjacent.”
I snorted before I could stop myself. “Country-adjacent?”
She nodded, already rifling through my jewelry box. “You’ll look hot and fit right in, while still giving off ‘I could filibuster this whole room’ energy.”
A reluctant smile tugged at my lips. “I'll take that as a compliment even though it wasn't meant to be one.”
She grinned like she’d won something. “You’re welcome.”
I crossed my arms and watched her spin around the room like she was on a mission, pulling clothes from hangers, cranking up her playlist, humming under her breath like the night was already a story she couldn’t wait to tell. For a moment, I let myself get caught up in her energy.
Deep down, I knew this party wouldn’t be as harmless as she believed. Not with who I knew would be there and how much was still unraveling. But when she plugged in the curling iron and pulled me over to her vanity, I gave in. For a little while, I let myself believe tonight might actually be simple.
The barn was louder than I expected. Not bad loud, just overwhelming. The air carried a mix of smoke, spilled beer, and dust. Music pulsed through the rafters, the twang of strings layered over a heavy bass that vibrated in my chest. Strings of lights crisscrossed above in uneven lines, more haphazard than planned. Students filled the space,clustered in corners, perched on anything that passed as a seat, and crowded close around the makeshift dance floor.
I hesitated just inside the doorway, my boot tapping against the floorboards while my eyes scanned for the quickest way out.
Alisa was gone within seconds, pulled into the crowd by a guy in a denim jacket with a grin too smooth to trust. She winked at me over her shoulder before disappearing completely.
I didn’t follow.
I stuck close to the wall, my jacket already too warm. Tugging at the sleeves, I wondered how long I had to stay before I could slip out without anyone noticing—not that I was sure I could even get an Uber this far out.
That was when I saw him.
Talon.
