What Are The Odds?: A college hockey romance. (Phil-U Book 1)
What Are The Odds?: Chapter 23

Levi.

Grace was frozen in time, her jaw slack and her hands suspended in front of her as vomit trickled onto the ground.

“Really?” she groaned, screwing up her face.

Darn dirty time clamped her hand over her mouth. It looked like she was ready to go round two.

“Hilly,” I shouted, signalling for one of the freshmen.

He ran over, his cheeks rosy from an alcoholic-buzz.

“Look after this girl, will you? She’s drunk.”

“You got it, Captain.”

It was handy being able to make orders even off the ice. I was going to miss that benefit next year. The girl was too drunk to leave alone. But Grace was also in need of help. I couldn’t be in two places at once. And if given the option, it would definitely be to help Grace rather than look after darn dirty time for a second longer.

“I think that’s my cue to call it a night,” Grace ground out, turning to leave.

I reached for her arm, hoping it wasn’t one of the parts of her currently covered in regurgitated passionfruit daiquiri.

“Clean up here.”

Grace momentarily held my gaze, clearly not thrilled by the idea. Maybe I’d already fucked things up by sulking like a little kid. Or maybe she was blaming me for this. I guess it was partly my fault. But I’d let Will take the heat. He should’ve read between the lines. I did not want that chick to come over.

“Come on, Hughesy. You don’t want to drive home like that.”

Grace looked herself up and down before nodding numbly.

“Let’s start by getting rid of this monstrosity of a jacket,” I said.

Grace rolled her eyes before turning and letting me slip the jacket off her shoulders. I set it over the back of my empty seat.

“Ryker will–”

“Don’t worry. I’ll have it hosed down and returned to Richardson. This way.”

I took Grace’s hand and led her into the party. Parting the crowd, I headed straight for the stairs and bypassed the game of pool taking place on the landing to continue to my bedroom. It was quieter on the top floor, the kind of quiet I was craving. With nothing up here but locked doors, people didn’t tend to stray. Grace’s hand remained in mine as I unlocked my bedroom door and turned on the light. She groaned upon seeing herself in the full-length mirror.

“It’s in my hair.”

I grimaced. “She got you good.”

I let go of Grace’s hand to rummage in my wardrobe for something decent to give her. She was rubbing at her arms, trying to ward off goose bumps.

“Why don’t you have a shower?” I suggested. “Warm up and wash the vomit from your hair.”

She thought for a moment. “Is that okay?”

“Big time. You’re starting to stink out my room.”

Her eyes narrowed mischievously. “What’s that? Did you say you want a hug?”

She launched across the room, her arms outstretched as she fought to catch up to me. For a small girl, she was incredibly quick. I jumped onto my bed and backed against the headboard.

“Don’t you dare, Hughesy.”

She edged closer. I held out my arm, halting her.

“Think it through. If you get vomit on me, we’ll have to share my shower.”

Her cheeks changed to the perfect shade of pink. I loved making Grace Hughes blush. And I loved that she was still in good spirits after being thrown up on. And after seeing that girl in my lap. And after I acted like a total, immature dick. With a defeated sigh she scooped up the clothes and walked into the bathroom. And I tried to forget the fact Grace Hughes was naked on the other side of the door.