Offside: Rules of the Game Book 1

Bailey and I finished scaling the wooden staircase built into the earth and rounded a corner at the top, coming out at an opening in the trees. I was a little winded, not because I’d just climbed two stories’ worth of stairs—I could do that in my sleep—but from my proximity to her.

I was losing my chill.

“Wow,” Bailey breathed. “You can see all of downtown.”

She followed me to the wrought-iron bench that sat at the very edge of the hillside. In front of us lay the city skyline, its lights twinkling in the dusky purple twilight. Skyscrapers lined the jagged horizon, some of the windows still lit from within. And a steady stream of cars moved over the connecting roads in a blur of red and white.

I still wasn’t sure what had possessed me to bring her here, somewhere I had never brought anyone else—or even mentioned it to.

“The view from here is amazing.” Shifting her weight, she crossed her legs.

I couldn’t help but stare. They were long and shapely, and I hadn’t been able to get them out of my mind since XS.

“The view right here’s pretty nice too.”

Her lips curled, and her cheeks darkened almost imperceptibly in the dim light. She shot me a look that said she couldn’t tell if I was messing around or not. Which meant my game had gone to shit lately. Probably due to lack of practice and aforementioned absence of chill.

“How do you know about this place?” Bailey’s round eyes searched my face, her expression turning serious.

“Sometimes I come here for runs in the off-season. You know, to mix it up and get off the dreadmill.” I stretched my legs out in front of me, draping an arm along the back of the bench. “Then I stop and undo all my hard work with a sugar-laden drink at the end. It’s all about balance.”

“Must be paying off if you guys are schooling us in the standings this badly already.”

“Guess so.” I shrugged. “You should probably jump ship while you can. It’s not too late to join our bandwagon.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Keep dreaming.”

We fell quiet, looking out at the view, but it wasn’t an awkward silence. It was kind of nice being with someone who, like me, didn’t feel the need to fill every second with idle chatter. After a while, we slipped back into small talk about school, hockey, and other friend-appropriate topics.

Until my internal stream of thoughts butted in before I could stop myself.

“No offense to you, but I don’t get the Morrison thing,” I said. “You’re cool. And that dude’s got about as much personality as a carton of white milk.”

“Oh my god.” She stopped mid-sip and huffed out a little breath of air. “Somehow that fits perfectly.”

I drained the last of my hot chocolate. “Seriously, what did you see in him? Asking for a friend.” I paused. “Okay, that friend is me. I’m a nosy fuck.”

I’d thought about this more than I cared to admit, and I’d still come up empty-handed. Bailey was smart, hot, and funny; she could have had her pick of almost anyone. I couldn’t reconcile why she’d give that douchebag the time of day, let alone date him for an extended length of time.

Was this what jealousy felt like? I didn’t like it. At all.

Bailey frowned, looking out over the cityscape. “Honestly, I don’t know. We started dating freshman year. I guess sometimes you get attached to people and let things go on longer than they should. I was young and naive, I guess.”

“Yeah, you’re really getting up there now. Twenty-one, yikes.” I sucked in a breath. “Talk about ancient.”

“Wait.” She furrowed her brow. “When’s your birthday?”

“January third.” As a kid, it sucked. Parties and presents were perpetually overshadowed by Christmas and New Year’s. But it was an awesome birthday as far as hockey was concerned, because I was always the oldest in our birth year division. Combined with being larger than average, I was often a giant among the other players.

“So, you’re older than me,” Bailey pointed out.

“Semantics,” I said, waving her off.

“You’re giving me gray hairs as we speak, so maybe you’re right.” She paused, crinkling her nose. “Besides, didn’t I tell you everything about Luke when I was wasted and sharing my life story?”

“Not really.”

She only touched on a few things that night. Namely, that Morrison was a cheating piece of shit who lacked game in the bedroom, and that he didn’t eat pussy, which was a fucking travesty. But I didn’t want to make her feel self-conscious, so I didn’t intend to get into that right now—or ever, unless it became directly relevant because we were hooking up.

I mean, I hoped it would become relevant down the line, but I couldn’t gauge whether that was a possibility just yet. Maybe I’d signed my own death warrant by friend-zoning myself.

“There is no story,” she said, zipping her olive green coat up to the very top and burrowing her face into the collar. “We were dating; now we’re not. The end.”

I let out a low whistle. “Okay, moving on.”

“Why do you get to interrogate me about my love life?” She turned to face me and tilted her head, hazel eyes pinning me with a probing look. “How come I can’t ask why you’re such a fuckboy?”

I raised my eyebrows, meeting her gaze with a level look. “I think you just did.”

Well, that didn’t bode well for down the line. Plus, fuckboy struck me as a little extreme. I did have some standards. They were just…broad. Let’s be real. I was young and single, and girls threw themselves at me, so why would I say no?

Though I was in the midst of a serious drought at the moment—not necessarily by design, but because every text that popped up on my phone offering a hookup was from someone other than Bailey. I had thought about trying anyway, just to see if I could get myself out of the mindfuck I was in, but I didn’t really want to.

Objectively speaking, it made zero sense because I had no real reason to think we would hook up ever, let alone any time soon. But certain body parts of mine didn’t care for reason or logic, so here I was. Practically a born-again virgin.

And obviously not telling a single soul about any of this.

“Then answer the question.”

I shrugged. I didn’t have a good answer and felt a little dumb for it. “Because I can?”

“Guys are wired so differently,” Bailey murmured, looking down at her red paper cup.

“What makes you say that?”

“Because I could never…do that. With someone I didn’t know.”

Knowing what I knew now, I was thankful we hadn’t slept together that night. She would have regretted it, regretted me.

“Not to poke holes in your theory here, or make judgments about good or bad, but lots of girls do.”

“I guess so.” She hummed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Maybe it’s just me.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” I said.

“I don’t know. It’s not like it’s worked out for me so far, either.”

I knew exactly what she was referring to, but again, I didn’t want to make her feel self-conscious by bringing it up. Knowing some of the personal shit I did while she didn’t know that I knew made for a massive fucking moral dilemma. It was one-sided and unfair, but I also didn’t want her to think I was teasing her or being a dick.

Bailey shivered, rubbing her arms. “I should have worn a warmer coat.”

“It’s getting pretty chilly,” I said. “We should probably head back. Maybe your roommates went out or their company’s gone by now.”

“Dare to dream.”

We stood and headed for the staircase. It was even darker now, most of the light coming from the streetlamps lining the park. A gust of wind kicked up, blowing a pile of dead leaves on the ground in a miniature funnel.

“You know, this is a little spooky.” She started to descend the stairs, with me following behind.

Speaking of nice views, I would follow her anywhere, any day.

“What, walking around a secluded forest with a guy you don’t know that well?” I said with a shrug. “Maybe a little.”

“Good place to dump a body,” she mused, gripping the handrail as she scaled the stairs. “But wouldn’t it have been easier to off me after the bar?”

“I prefer a long con, myself.”

“Ah, I see.”

On the path back to the parking lot, she caught her foot on a tree root that was hidden in the ground, tripping and losing her balance.

I grabbed her elbow to steady her. “I got you.”

“Thanks,” she said, a little breathless.

Rather than continuing our trek, we froze, looking at each other for a beat. Adrenaline hit me like a rush after a goal. She gazed up at me, lips slightly parted, and then I realized I was still holding on to her arm. It was like a moment in a cheesy movie where the characters would lean in and kiss, but I wasn’t going to push my luck twice in one day.

Even if I really wanted to.

Even if she did kiss me back earlier.

“So much for not being clumsy.” I gently let her go.

“I’m not,” she insisted.

I stole a glance at her, fighting a smile. “Maybe just clumsy around me.”

“Maybe so.”

The lights were out at Bailey’s place when we reached her street. I pulled in illegally again and shifted into park. Leaning over to her side, I ducked my head to see out the passenger-side window.

“Doesn’t look like anyone’s home.”

Bailey glanced over to confirm. “Praise God.” Exhaling a sigh of relief, she turned to look at me. “Thank you for tonight. It helped a lot.”

“Anytime.”

Silence fell between us again, but this time, it was awkward. Super awkward. Like maybe I should hug her, but the physical space between us made it too difficult to gauge her reaction to me getting closer. So, like a chump, I did nothing.

“I guess I owe you now,” she said, unbuckling her seat belt.

“I’ll definitely be collecting on that.”

Bailey grabbed her purse and dropped her chin, giving me a stern look. “Are you being dirty again?” Her voice was low, a little husky, and it definitely made me want to be dirty.

“No,” I said. “Unless you want me to be.”

Her lips tipped up at the corners. “Text me, okay?”

“I will.”

By Friday evening, Bailey and I had texted back and forth almost constantly, but I still hadn’t come up with an opening to see her again. And it was taking my head out of the game, which was fairly fucking dire given the scouts in the stands.

We were getting our asses handed to us, down zero to two, so I wasn’t the only one having an off day. Coach Miller finished reaming us out and stormed off, slamming the dressing room door behind him. The rest of us glanced at one another, every expression a mix of guilt and irritation with the rest of the team. There were still six minutes left in the first intermission to stew.

From beside me on the bench, Dallas studied me. “What’s up with you?”

“Other than my game being shit, you mean?”

“Your default setting is vaguely pissed off at the world.” He gestured at me. “And right now, you’re oddly mellow. Even with this game in the toilet.”

“Preoccupied, I guess.” I didn’t dare tell him with what.

“Well, un-occupy yourself, fuckface,” he said. “I can’t carry this game alone.”

Fair point. A lot of the guys were coasting tonight, which wasn’t helping me get my head straight. But it wasn’t an excuse, either. Usually, I would be the one reaming everyone out.

“Plus,” he lowered his voice, “scouts, man. Get it together. What happened to the fire you had the last few games?”

“Two of those were against Callingwood, and I fucking hate them, so…”

It helped when I genuinely wanted to cause bodily harm to a good portion of the other team, especially their captain. I didn’t have nearly the same size ax to grind with New England U tonight.

“So pretend we’re playing them. Get mad, bro. I need your head in this.”

I nodded. That could work. I would pretend everyone was Morrison out there and crush them accordingly.

A few minutes later, we headed back out, and Dallas and I hopped onto the ice for the first shift. Palmer, one of our D-men, immediately took a stupid-ass penalty for tripping. Idiot.

We headed into five on four play. I was at the high slot to disrupt cross ice passes and block shots from the point. The Wolves’ right winger wound up and passed to their center. Not today, bitches. I skated forward to intercept it, blocking the shot—with my fucking ankle. Searing pain shot through my foot, radiating up my leg.

Somehow, I managed to skate forward and beat the defender to the rebound, sending it over to Ward. He lined up and sank it in the top right-hand corner. With a fist pump, he skated off to our bench.

“Nice one,” I said, sitting beside him.

“When I told you to try, I didn’t mean sacrifice your sorry ass.”

“It’s fine,” I lied. It was throbbing like a motherfucker. But we needed that goal.

Dallas shook his head. He knew it was bullshit. “Are you going to invite that chick to Ty’s birthday next weekend?”

I hadn’t thought that far ahead. Would Bailey want to go? Did she even like big parties? Plus, that was so far away. If I waited that long, it would be a week and a half before I saw her again.

Then the perfect opening hit me. It might involve actually doing my schoolwork, but hey, desperate times and all.