Collide: A Hockey Romance
Collide: Chapter 2

SHE’S WATCHING ME sleep.

Drawing away from the last remnants of my dream means I’m hyper-aware of my current surroundings. Either she’s enjoying the view, which I wouldn’t blame her for, or she’s planning on ripping off my skin and wearing it later.

The latter seems more likely because I fell asleep on her last night.

The welcome party at our house had gotten a little out of control. By a little I mean, extremely out of control. When Dalton University’s left winger and one of my best friends, Dylan Donovan, is in charge of a party, it’s meant to turn into a rager. Mostly because I decided not to be the one policing it. We had just come back from break, so it was the only time I’d let myself drink before the season starts up again, and I’m not sure how much I’ll regret that decision until I’ve seen the aftermath.

Opening my eyes means having to deal with the aftermath.

When Aleena, a smoking hot redhead, picked me out of the crowd to do body shots last night, it was only right that we found ourselves in my room, naked and all over each other. Though that didn’t last long because sleep debt is real, and I’m its latest victim.

I train every day and take a full course load, and when I’m not doing that, I’m keeping the guys out of trouble. So, as I laid her on my bed and kissed my way down her stomach, I fully knocked out. It would have been embarrassing if I was conscious enough to remember, but the sleep was so great I had no complaints.

“Morning.” I stretch my arms out and under my head, opening my eyes to see exactly what I expected.

Red hair pools on my chest and full pouty lips are trapped between white teeth. “Good sleep?” she asks. “I hope you’re not feeling too lazy this morning.”

Anyone else would have been emasculated by the comment, but I couldn’t be. Not when practically every girl on campus knows that Lazy and Aiden Crawford have never been used in a sentence together. This was a one-off, and judging from her darkening blue eyes, she knew I’d make it up to her.

I chuckle. “Great sleep, actually.”

“Well, if you’re awake now.” She runs a red fingernail down my chest. “We can start the day off right.”

What kind of host would I be to turn down that offer? When her hand trails lower, I flip her under me and make up for last night.

By the time Aleena finishes up in the shower, I’m already downstairs making breakfast. Turns out women are big fans of steam showers, and I am the proud owner of the only one in the house. Rightfully so, because my grandparents had bought the house when I got accepted to Dalton. But that didn’t stop Kian Ishida, the team’s right-winger and our roommate, from fighting me tooth and nail for it. The captain card never failed to win a disagreement, but now he’s across the hall with his loud music and constant pounding on my bedroom door.

I offer Aleena breakfast, but she only shakes her head in response before walking out the front door. I smile to myself. There is nothing better than a one-night stand that doesn’t try to be your girlfriend after.

Eli watches the exchange with raised brows. “That’s a first.”

“What is?”

“It’s past ten. You’ve never had a girl stay that long. Did you finally replace the one?” His eyes widen with a grin that I’d like to punch off his face.

“I fell asleep last night before we got to do anything. It was only right.”

“How chivalrous,” he says dryly. “You’ve been exhausted lately. Think you need to cut back?”

Now, it’s my turn to laugh. Elias Westbrook, Eli as everyone knows him, and I have known each other since we were in diapers. His worry doesn’t irritate me like everyone else’s because I know he says it with great caution, and I must really be cutting it close with practice and school if he’s saying something. “I’m fine. I’ve made it work for this long, what’s a few more months?”

He doesn’t seem to like that answer, though he only nods and plates his eggs.

“Sick party, guys.” An early morning straggler walks out of the house wearing just boxers, the rest of his clothes dangling from his arm. The pin on his jacket tells me he’s one of Dylan’s fraternity brothers.

Dylan is the only one out of us that is part of a frat. Kappa Sigma Zeta treats him like royalty, and although he lives with us, he could easily have the master suite in the Greek Row house. But according to him, having to be in the same house as the “ass-kissing freshmen” is the last thing he wants.

I eat a spoonful of oatmeal. “Where are the rest of the guys?”

Eli scrolls through his phone and shows me the screen. It’s a picture of Kian passed out on the grass at the front entrance of our campus. Behind him, the monument of Sir Davis Dalton is trashed.

I squeeze my eyes shut hoping there is a simple explanation for this. Maybe a really good Photoshop job. “Who took that?”

“Benny Tang.”

I pause mid-bite. “Yale’s tendy? What was he doing here?” Having Yale come here after we slaughtered them in a game before winter break would be the worst possible scenario. The last thing I remember before heading upstairs was telling Dylan to shut it down soon. Clearly, he didn’t listen.

“Might wanna ask Dylan. I wasn’t here.”

Of course, he wasn’t. If Eli, the only other responsible one, hadn’t been at the party, that means the two overgrown children, Dylan and Kian, were in charge.

This all started when they lost a bet last semester that has us throwing the majority of the parties on campus. The parties we don’t throw, we have to provide the booze. When I found out, I had both of them benched for two games straight.

Despite everything, I’m hoping this is a nightmare and I’m still in bed with Aleena. “And do I wanna know where Dylan is?” I ask cautiously.

When Eli picks up his phone again, I groan.

He chuckles. “I’m kidding, dude. He’s passed out in the living room.”

“IT WAS ME.”

Every eye in the room zeroes in on me, and I regret ever learning how to speak. The pounding in my head persists because Coach wanted to torture us with practice before we gathered in the media room for a mandatory meeting. The bright white of the rink had sent my headache doubling in pain. I don’t drink often, and my body never lets me forget when I do, so today was no exception. Everything was intensified including Kian’s loud voice that spewed paranoia about why Coach called a meeting. The kid woke up with grass stains on his body and still wondered what was happening.

When Coach Kilner entered he was fuming, his pale skin glowing red. He even knocked the hats off the junior’s heads, who immediately cowered to the back row, and I began regretting my decision to sit up front. Kian and Dylan were way in the back too, hiding behind our goalies.

“A fucking party that trashed campus?” Coach yelled and suddenly everything made sense. “Is this a fucking joke to all of you? Never in my twenty-five years of coaching have I had to deal with this kind of blatant disregard for the school code of conduct.”

That part wasn’t all true. I know for a fact that Brady Winston, the captain from the year before mine, threw a house party that landed a year-long ban on Greek row. The dean’s car went missing, the swim team’s pool was trashed, and all extra-circulars were canceled. So, I’m pretty sure trashing the campus and vandalizing the monument of Sir Davis Dalton isn’t the worst thing to happen to the school.

“When I became a coach after years in the league,” Coach started as Devon muttered, Here we go beside me. “Never did I think I would be giving my senior players a lecture on throwing parties.”

“Coach the party—”

“Shut it, Donovan,” Kilner scolded. “We are in the fucking qualifiers that will get us to the Frozen Four and you are messing around with other colleges. At this stage?”

“Yale came here. Shouldn’t they be getting the brunt of this?” asked Tyler Sampson, our alternate captain, and one of the smartest guys on the team. He’s headed to law school instead of following in his hockey superstar father’s footsteps.

“They are not my problem, you idiots are! I should have every single one of you suspended,” he says, rage pouring out of his sweat-covered forehead.

“But then we wouldn’t be able to play the Frozen Four.” Kian’s chiming in didn’t help the rest of that speech and now he’s stuck with laundry duty for a month. It was originally a week but Kian kept protesting, and everyone knows if Coach gives you a punishment you shut your trap and take it.

After that, no one interrupted, except when I opened my big mouth to incriminate myself.

“What do you mean?” Coach asks, staring daggers at me now. I’ve seen that sharp glare too many times, and it should scare me enough to sit my ass back down, but I don’t.

“I’m the one who threw the party.”

Eli curses behind me, but he doesn’t say anything else, because he knows when I make a decision there’s nothing anyone can say to talk me out of it.

Coach runs a hand over his mouth, muttering something under his breath. Most likely about how much of a dumbass I am, and I’d have to agree. “This is how you wanna play it, Crawford? You sure it wasn’t a collective mistake?”

He’s giving me an out. More out of desperation than anything because when the school gets wind of this, I will be punished. My only hope in putting myself on the line is that they’ll check my academic standing and my hockey career before shelling out anything too severe. My fate will be better than anyone else’s on this team.

“It was all me. I let Yale attend.”

Kilner nods, and I can’t help but notice the minuscule flash of respect that flickers through his features before it’s replaced by the usual anger. “I’ll report to the dean. If someone has a different story than your captain, speak now.”

The atmosphere in the room shifts, and I know the team wants to have my back but the expression on my face must convey what I hope because they reluctantly sit back in silence.

“Then why the hell are you still here!” he shouts, forcing us to shuffle out of the media room. Coach pulls me back. “My office after you’ve showered.”

The locker room is eerily quiet for the first time ever, and when I step out of the shower I’m greeted with Kian’s sullen face. “Cap, you didn’t have to do that,” he says, looking guilty.

I run a towel over my hair. “I did. I fucked up last night, I shouldn’t have let my guard down.”

Eli sits beside me. “If that’s your takeaway you’re looking at this all wrong. This is everyone’s fault, mine too.”

The locker room murmurs in agreement.

“I know you guys want to have my back, but it’s on me to be a good example and last night I wasn’t. This isn’t a united front kind of thing. The dean’s involved which means he’ll see to it that everyone gets punished. We can’t have that going into the season. If it’s just me, the consequences can’t be too bad,” I say confidently.

My confidence withers when I enter Coach Kilner’s office. It’s never an exciting event to be here, but today it’s especially grim. He’s at his desk, tapping the mouse with a heavy hand. When he finally decides to give me his attention, he gestures for me to sit. He continues torturing the mouse until he grunts and chucks it at the wall.

It clatters to the floor in two pieces.

I swallow.

Kilner leans back in his chair, squeezing his stress ball tight enough to burst. “Where were you the last Friday before the end of semester?”

The question throws me off. I just confessed to a pretty heavy account of reckless abandon, and he’s worried about last semester? I barely remember what I had for dinner last night, let alone what I was doing two weeks ago.

Except the memory hits, clearing the haze of my lingering hangover. “After practice ended, I headed to the house,” I say.

“The boys?”

“Same thing.”

“Party?”

Fuck. Why does he look so pissed? The only thing I remember from that party was a pretty blonde. It had started to get a bit out of hand, but I trusted the guys to handle it. It’s the only reason I let myself relax last night. However, I’ve never lied to Coach, and I won’t start now.

“Yeah, a party.”

“So, you’re telling me a party—mind you, one that you boys have multiple times a week—is the reason you missed the charity fundraiser?”

Oh crap. The charity game.

In an attempt to pacify Kilner, I signed everyone up to coach the kids before their charity game. Spending two days a week with unfiltered children takes its toll and it didn’t help that it was finals season. So, when I stopped showing up, so did everyone else.

“Those kids were waiting on that ice, and you didn’t show. What about the weekend before that? Same thing?”

I nod. Dalton parties never eased. If you can’t replace one, you’re looking in the wrong place.

He lets out a derisive laugh. “You missed the mental health drive that the psychology department put on specifically for athletes. The hockey team didn’t show and neither did football or basketball.”

To be fair, I don’t pay attention to campus events. “How is that my fault?”

“Because instead of knowing where you had to be, there was a party all you idiots were at! If my players don’t honor their commitments, do you know what I do, Aiden?”

“Bench them,” I mutter.

He’s fuming now. “Good, you’re paying attention. And do you know why I called you in here?”

“Because I threw last night’s party,” I answer, “and I’m the captain.”

“So you know you’re the captain? I thought maybe you’re too hungover to remember!” he shouts.

I wince. “I’m sorry coach. Next time—”

“There will be no next time. I don’t care if you’re my star player or Wayne fucking Gretzky, you will be a team player first.” He releases a deep agitated breath. “You should be leading your team, not partaking in their stupid games. Those boys respect you, Aiden. If you’re at a party thinking with the wrong head, so are they. Smarten up, or I will have no choice but to put you on probation.”

My face contorts with confusion. “What? There’s no chance I get academic probation.”

“We’re not talking about your classes here. The party is being investigated.”

Ah, fuck. Remember when I said I wouldn’t know if I regretted drinking until I saw the aftermath? I regret it now. Probation is bad, like tearing an ACL bad. If the news gets to the league, they’ll send agents out here to assess me as an eligible player. I had just signed with Toronto, because draft didn’t mean shit until you put pen to paper. Making a mistake now would be fatal.

“I can’t be on probation.”

Coach nods. “You’re in luck, because before the dean went on sabbatical, he informed the committee that anyone involved in the trash fiasco is to be dealt with. Since you have taken on that very stupid responsibility, your name is first on the list.”

I am going to kill my fucking teammates. “What does that mean?”

“That they gave me the option of probation or community service.”

An air of relief fills me. “That’s great. I’ll do community service. I will single-handedly scrub every inch of Sir Davis Dalton.”

Coach gives me an unsettled look. “As great of a mental image as that is, it’s not that simple,” he informs. “A lot goes into eligible community service hours, and since we don’t have a precedent, it’s going play-by-play.”

I snort. “Like a prison sentence where I get out on good behavior?”

“You’re in no place to be a smart ass,” he reprimands. “I would have been forced to put you on probation if it wasn’t for her.”

“Who?”