Devious Obsession: A Dark Hockey Romance (Hockey Gods)

I wake up in the music room, my mouth full of cotton. I look around, squinting in the dark room. The fluorescent light from the hallway comes in through the window in the door, slanting across the floor and giving me enough to see.

My bag is gone, as is my phone.

What happened?

I lick my lips and drag myself upright, tugging down on the hem of my shirt. As soon as I move, the motion sensor lights in the room flicker back to life. I close my eyes briefly against the searing pain of the brightness. It takes a minute for me to open my eyes again and resume taking inventory. My leggings are dirty, and there are grass stains on my knees. There’s a rip in my shirt, too, right across my stomach.

A shadow appears in the window, and I scream.

“It’s me!”

I take another look and wince. Thalia’s brows are pinched, and she tries the door handle.

Locked, of course, unless you ask the school to give your ID access to these rooms.

I pull the door open. Her gaze quickly takes me in, and without warning, she drags me into a hug.

“Wh—” My voice cracks, so I just stop.

“Are you okay?”

I shake my head and clear my throat. “What happened?”

She pulls back a little, still holding my arms. “You don’t remember?”

“No…”

“Let’s just go home,” she murmurs. “Where’s your bag?”

I don’t know. I don’t know what happened, I don’t know where my bag is. Or why I’m covered in stains and dirty, when I should’ve just been… I should’ve been here, right? Practicing?

The sheet music is gone, too.

She takes my hand and leads me outside, and I stop short.

It’s dark out.

“What time is it?”

She shifts. “Nine.”

“At night?” My knees wobble. “The last thing I remember is getting to the music room this morning.” A terrible thought occurs to me. “It was this morning, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah.” She squeezes my hand. “Listen, we just need to get back to our apartment, and I’ll explain everything there—”

“I know,” I interrupt. “It’s okay. Let’s go.”

At this point, it doesn’t matter that there could be strange guys lingering outside the apartment. I’m ready to sleep in my own bed. Thalia is a fine roommate but not so good at sharing a bed. I have bruises on my shins from her wild flinging.

But it was better than staying with Steele.

My mind seems to be running at half-speed. We’re already on our apartment’s street. Thalia pauses and stuffs a ball cap on my head, muttering something to herself. I cling to her and let her unlock the door, not bothering to turn around. I can feel eyes on me, and I silently plead with her to hurry up.

“I’m going,” she grumbles, getting the door unlocked and open.

Maybe not so silently pleading, then.

She makes sure the door latches behind us, then we repeat the steps at our apartment door. Once we’re in, she motions for me to stay where I am. She picks up a bat—I’m not sure where we got it, or if one of the guys left it for us—and checks out the apartment.

It’s silent, except for the clock hanging on the wall, ticking mutinously loud. Thalia returns and sets the bat back by the door, frowning at me.

“Water?” she asks. “Maybe food?”

I press my hand to my stomach. It gurgles on cue. “Do we have anything in the fridge?”

She shakes her head. “We don’t have much, since we haven’t been here. But we have frozen pizza.”

I grab a cup from the cabinet. “Fire up the oven, chef. We’re eating like royalty tonight.”

She cracks a smile, but it doesn’t last.

Which means she knows what happened to me, and it isn’t good.

I heave a sigh and drink a full glass of water. It helps with my dry mouth, for sure, but it feels hollow in my stomach. While she gets the pizza ready, I head to my bedroom. It looks untouched, which is good.

Thalia steps into my room behind me, leaning on the frame.

“Can I borrow your phone to call mine?” I go straight to my closet. Half of my stuff is at the hockey house, but it wasn’t like I moved everything in. I grab new leggings, a hoodie, undies. What I really need is a nice, long shower as hot as I can stand it.

“No.”

I stop. “No?”

“No, I think we need to talk before you try to find your phone or go on social media—”

A chill sweeps down my spine. It’s that foreboding feeling where I just know she’s going to ruin my day. Or night. But there’s only so much bad shit a girl can take.

“I’m going to shower first, then,” I say softly.

She nods and steps back to let me pass.

Showering makes me feel more human, at the very least. I comb out my hair and take my time getting dressed, but all I’m really doing is procrastinating the inevitable. As soon as I go out there, Thalia’s going to give me a slice of pizza and break my heart.

If it didn’t have something to do with Steele, she wouldn’t have taken me back here.

So, what did he do?

Or, better question: what did I do?

I try to think, but my memory is frustratingly hazy. I remember playing the piano. And… he came in. I think I kept playing while he sat there watching me, and I didn’t like it. I felt too hot in my body.

I drag my fingers across my abdomen, pulling up my shirt. There are scratches there. My nails are jagged from picking at them—a nervous habit my mother tried to break. Did I try to claw my own skin?

Did I rip my shirt?

I shudder.

The smell of pizza reminds me of my empty stomach, and I quit procrastinating. I head out to the living room, where Thalia’s curled up on the couch. She has a Christmas action movie rolling the beginning credits. Wordlessly, she hands me one of the plates from the coffee table. It already has two slices on it, and I take it from her.

She grabs her own, and we eat in silence.

Then she mutes the TV and turns to me. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

She sighs. “This video was posted around lunchtime. It’s been passed around…” She opens her phone and hands it to me.

I click play, my heart in my throat. It’s me. Very clearly. I’m leaving the Administration building, hunched like I’m afraid. My steps are short and fast, and I keep glancing over my shoulder at whoever’s filming. My lips move. Then…

My chest tightens.

It cuts to a new clip, and I’m screeching, screaming at nothing and ducking like I’m being attacked from above. In the center of the quad, with people everywhere. It cuts. I’m sprinting down a path between buildings and off campus, the filmer following me. Eventually, I fall and curl up into a ball. I’ve got tears streaming down my face, and I scratch at myself. My stomach, my arms. There’s another minute left of the video, but I set the phone facedown between us.

I’m going to throw up.

In fact… Yep. I sprint to the bathroom and barely make it. My throat burns, and I sag back when the spasms stop.

“Shit, I should’ve told you before pizza.” Thalia hands me a bottle of water.

I crack it open, then freeze.

The sound…

“What?”

I look down at the bottle.

“Steele…”

She kneels beside me and waits.

It sounds insane. “Steele came into the music room, and he gave me a bottle of water. I drank it, and that’s when things get fuzzy. Did he drug me?”

I shudder.

He wouldn’t, would he? I mean… no, actually, he would do that. But I have no idea why.

“They’re saying you had a psychotic break,” Thalia whispers. “But if it was drugs—”

“I should get my blood tested. Go to the hospital or something.” I rise. “He can’t get away with this. I mean—he should pay.”

“The only paying that would happen would be his father taking away your spot at CPU and bribing whoever he had to at the hospital to bury it,” Thalia points out. “You said it yourself, you don’t trust the O’Briens. I think you meant his dad when you said it, but it applies to his son, too.”

I grimace. She’s right. It does apply to both of them.

Steele calls me the viper—but he’s the snake.