Page 64 of Collide
“Donovan!” I can’t say I’m shocked when I see him tied to the bed, a blindfold over his eyes and a gag in his mouth.
The blonde turns to wave. “Hi, Aiden.”
I throw her a tight smile. “Do you mind, uh, untying him?”
She removes the blindfold and gag. Dylan blinks, adjusting to the light. “Hey, what’s up, man?”
Only he could be so cavalier. I toss him the cake topper, and he snickers before he spots my expression, and his amusement vanishes. I might be petty, but if I’m not getting laid tonight, no one is.
“Living room. Now.”
By the time he makes it out, he’s still pulling up his sweats. “Is this about Kian? That was a joke.”
“It’s not only about that. You’re fucking around while Kilner’s coming down on me after the Yale mess. You invited those assholes here, and you’re the one who lost the bet to throw the parties.” I sift a hand through my hair. “I can’t keep doing this shit with you. You miss practice, show up hungover, and get into fights bad enough that you get ejected. When are you going to get it together?”
He runs a hand over his face. “Do I have to listen to this lecture? I’m just having fun. We all are.”
“What you do off the ice is up to you, but you’re my friend, man. Tell me if something is happening, and I’ll help.”
“Aye, aye, captain!” He mimics a salute, making my jaw tighten.
“I’m serious.”
His smirk slips off his face when he looks away. “Nothing is happening.”
“You would tell me if there were?”
He pauses, but then he nods. “Yeah, I would.”
Deep down I know he won’t. Dylan ready to share everything in his life unless it has to do with feelings, then he’s a brick wall.
The summer of freshman year, we camped out in Hammonasset on a team-building retreat, and that’s the only time I’ve learned anything personal about Dylan. His parents are hard on him about school, and his dad hates that he plays abarbarian sport like hockey. His mother, on the other hand, is so caring she stocked our refrigerator for an entire semester with her cooking. Eventually, they moved upstate so her visits became less frequent, but we got a good look at her relationship with her golden boy.
“Good. And I’m putting an end to that bet you lost. Anyone who has a problem with that can deal with me.”
“Works for me,” he says, visibly relaxing. “Where’d you come from? You left the carnival hours ago.”
The switch in topic only reminds me of sounds I’ve been hearing on repeat. Her moans. And her whimpers. And her raspy calls for God. “Just checking on something.”
Dylan snorts. “Stalking your girl after Atwood kissed her? You know, I never thought you’d stoop to Tabitha’s level.”
Kian walks in at that moment, the fear on his face returning. “She’s here, isn’t she?” he screeches, disappearing into the kitchen.
“I liked you better with a gag,” I say to Dylan, which only makes him laugh harder.
“You know who else is gagging—”
I chuck an empty solo cup at him, and he dodges it. Idiot. “I’ll have fun with you at practice tomorrow,” I say.
His laughter seizes, and he pins me with a glare.
Kian comes back, holding a spatula. “Do you think I can bunk with one of you guys?”
“Not it.” Dylan beams, completely apathetic to Kian’s fear.
“We can switch rooms, Kian,” I offer.
“But I would feel more comfortable with you in the room.”
