my name, but somehow it's the only t
Violet? That's it. But my brain has replayed the low, gravelly so
g cross-legged on her unmade bed, surrounded by a mountain of throw pillows. "A
I mutter, shaking my
It's official move-in weekend at Maplewood University, and the energy outside our window is
t. My chance to be so
impossible, exhausting fantasy about my brother's best friend. But stand
essing a thumb-tack firmly into the drywall.
aving a small low-key thing at their off-campus house tonight. Just some
a hockey party. I'll just end up sitting in a corner while Liam i
agging. "Second of all, you're a freshman now. You're a college student. Put on that cu
has thin straps and a square neckline-definitel
my lips. "But if Liam starts lecturing me
ea
d porch and a lawn littered with empty red cups. Music is thumping through the clo
wraps around us. It smells like cheap
Over
the sea of people, a red cup in his hand, looking completely in his element. He's we
uick one-armed hug. "Nice. Grab a soda from the kit
dy scanning the room. "Is that the
. Go say hi, he's ha
k you-got-this look and disappears into the crowd towa
His protective older-brother radar instantly glares.
, rolling my eyes, though affectio
. Come on, let's
g air hits my face, a welcome relief from the stuffy heat inside. A massive bonfire
n the arm of a weathered s
k flannel shirt over a white tee, his jaw sharp in the flickering light of the fire. He has a beer danglin
edge of the deck. "That's the scout from t
into the shadows of the
looking at your discipline just as much as your stats. Keep your head down this season. Lead the team, avoid the ty
ture, and focused. "I know, sir. The team comes
e sky is the
Jace takes a slow sip of his drink, his eyes staring
way, a cold wave of r
a thousand miles an hour. He's talking to professional scouts. He's looking at a futu
d
od crush, hyper-fixating on the fact that he said my name in
ofessional sports caree
my heart. This is the exact moment I get over Jace Donovan. I'm done being
ht. "I'm actually feeling a little tired.
. "Already? You just got here,
s just a ten-minute walk," I say, forcing a br
me the second you g
ough the crowded porch. I just need t
grass meets the gravel path. I'm moving fast, my eyes slightly blurred wit
on a loose, wa
ho
y arms flailing slightly as gravity pulls
ground, a hand shoots
fingers wrap firml
wood of the deck, and my front slams directly into a broad, solid chest. Th
to my throat, ham
breath hitchin
ht, his fingers warm against my bare skin. His dark eyes are wide, searching my
hless second, nei
into a low, breathless register that sen

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