Shutout: Rules of the Game Book 2
Shutout: Chapter 3

TYLER

Fuck me.

Heart pounding, I slow to a stop in the middle of the living room, trying to reconcile the identity of the girl standing in front of me. Distinctive rose-gold hair falls around her shoulders in soft waves, framing a heart-shaped face with lush, full lips and whiskey brown eyes I’d recognize from a mile away.

When I draw a little closer, I catch sight of the small gold hoop in her right nostril, further confirming what I already know. This is supposed to be Chase’s younger sister, Seraphina, but I remember her as the smoking hot chick I fucked in a nightclub bathroom on Halloween. Granted, I was slightly inebriated, the lighting had been dim, and she was wearing a sparkly green fairy costume at the time, but it’s definitely her.

“Hades?” Seraphina’s eyes widen, and the bright pink gym bag she’s clutching slips from her grip, landing on the floor with a dull thud.

“Hey, Tinker Bell.” I flash her an easy grin, doing my best to appear unfazed. Panicking won’t help anything, and judging by the look on her face, she’s doing more than enough of that for both of us.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “You can’t… this can’t…” The words die on her lips as the front door creaks open.

Chase steps into the living room carrying an armload of stacked boxes, giving us an unimpressed look. “What is this, social hour?” He nods to the pile on the floor. “We’ve gotta leave soon, Ty. Let’s keep it moving.”

“Right.” I grab the nearest crate and turn toward our former office, now Seraphina’s makeshift bedroom. Her attention lingers on me, and my adrenaline surges. It’s a foregone conclusion we aren’t going to tell her brother what happened between us, right? If she does, being late for practice will be the least of my problems. Revealing that I “accidentally” fucked his sister would be the equivalent of starting World War III.

I hardly ever go out. What are the odds of this even happening?

Seraphina’s dark lashes flutter as she blinks rapid-fire. “Sorry. We were just, uh, doing introductions.” She picks up the bag she dropped but remains frozen to the spot like she can’t figure out what to do next. Fortunately, Chase either doesn’t seem to notice how strangely she’s acting or he’s attributing it to something other than my presence.

“You two can chit chat after we get back from practice.” Chase nudges her with his elbow as he passes, following me down the hall. “Though I should warn you, Ty isn’t the talkative type. He doesn’t like people.”

“I heard that,” I call over my shoulder.

Chase laughs. “Where’s the lie?”

For the next few minutes, I help transfer bags and boxes out of Seraphina’s white Lexus SUV while she and I politely ignore each other. Or try to, at least. I keep catching myself stealing glances at her, and several times, I catch her doing the same. The tension between us is so thick you could cut it with a skate.

By the time Seraphina’s vehicle is almost empty, her room is so full of bags and boxes there’s barely space to walk around the white daybed I helped Chase assemble this morning. There’s also more pink than I’ve ever seen in my entire life. A pink desk chair, pink computer, pink hangers, even pink shoes. Guess this explains the pink hair… and the pink panties she was wearing on Halloween.

That memory sets off a sudden flashback from that night. My lips on her lips, her hands on my body, my cock buried deep inside of her. Not to mention, those little sounds she made when she came—three times.

Inhaling sharply, I bite the inside of my cheek and force myself to think about hockey. It only partially works. That night has replayed in my brain a thousand times since. Getting out of this semester alive is going to require iron-clad boundaries and a fuck-ton of willpower.

Chase sets a tall stack of books in the entry. “Mind helping Sera with the last couple of things? My tank is empty, and I need to put on my spare tire before practice. I can swing back and grab you after.” He gives me an apologetic look, lowering his voice. “Sorry to put you out. She’s really overwhelmed with everything and I’m trying to stop her from having a meltdown.”

Maybe this is a blessing in disguise so we can clear the air. “No problem.”

Once the roar of his truck’s engine confirms he’s gone, I head for Seraphina’s room. She’s perched on the edge of her bed looking down at her phone, her mouth pulled into a pout of concentration with her bottom lip poking out slightly.

Pausing in the doorway, I grant myself the briefest moment to observe her, still taken aback by how fucking pretty she is. I’ve never used that word to describe a girl before. Hot, sure. Cute, sometimes. But she’s more than either of those. She’s pretty in the way that catches your attention and refuses to let it go.

A thorn pricks at my conscience as an unfamiliar emotion overtakes me. I’m not certain whether it’s guilt over my attraction to someone I can’t have—or the fact I already did.

Get it together, Donohue.

I knock on the open door, and she glances up, giving me an apprehensive look that mirrors the way I feel. Neither of us wants to have this discussion. Might as well rip off the bandage now, though. God knows we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.

Keeping a safe distance while we’re alone seems like the best course of action, so I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “Chase asked me to help you finish while he ran out for a sec, but I thought we should talk first.”

“Yeah, we should.” She grimaces, setting her cell on the nightstand. “This is awkward.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” I deadpan.

Serious talks aren’t my strong suit. Blame my sarcastic default setting.

Irritation flickers across her face, and her gaze darts around the room as if surveying for onlookers, then lands back on me. “You didn’t think to lead with the fact that you play for the Falcons?”

Do I leverage my hockey career to get laid? Sometimes. It’s a great way to replace like-minded chicks who aren’t looking for anything more than one night of meaningless fun. But for some reason, I hadn’t felt compelled to disclose that information to Seraphina the night we met. Maybe I was caught up in the thrill of an anonymous encounter. Or maybe—even though I’m loath to admit it—I wanted to be desired for who I was for a change, instead of what I do.

Vulnerability nags at the edges of my mind, and I shove down the last thought.

“You and I didn’t do much talking.” One thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was giving her a hat trick on the edge of a sink. Not a lot of words were exchanged in the process.

An adorable flush creeps across her cheekbones, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears. “Pretty sure neither of us would’ve done that if we’d known who the other person was. I don’t date hockey players.” She clears her throat and juts her chin, squaring her shoulders. “Or fool around with them. Athletes aren’t my type. Plus, Chase would flip out.”

That stings a little, but she’s right. I’d be six feet under within the hour.

“Let’s start over,” I offer. “Pretend it never happened. And I think we can both agree we don’t need to tell your brother.”

“Agreed on both points.” Seraphina’s posture softens and she offers me a smile, but it’s weak. She hesitates, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “We can still be friends, can’t we? I don’t know anyone at Boyd other than Chase and my friend Abby, and it’d be nice to have another person to hang out with once in a while. Unless you think that would be weird…”

If she were anyone else, I would shut down this suggestion immediately. Not only am I not in the habit of befriending former one-night stands, but the number of people I’m close to can be counted on hand—and I barely have enough time for them as it is.

Her warm brown eyes gleam with uncertainty as she looks at me, waiting for a response. She looks so hopeful; so vulnerable. I can’t bring myself to say no—even if saying yes feels like skating on dangerously thin ice.

Against my better judgment, I cave. “Sure, Tink.”