Not So Alone (West Coast Campus Book 1)

Chapter 8

Noah

Jack Braxton is a fucking beast. We're talking almost 250 pounds of muscle who has three inches on me.

He has the speed and determination to land on a killer NHL team one day.

If they can overlook how much time he spends swinging his fists instead of actually playing.

He has the most time in the sin bin I've ever seen a player have.

But he's the only shot Manitoba has at winning.

It's only the first period and he already has two penalties under his belt, which has cost us more goals then I'd like to admit as he's body checked my team out of his way like we were fucking rag dolls.

And without Seth being here to play, everyone is off.

And it cost us a game against fucking Manitoba.

Manitoba!

"This shit is unreal." Our goalie mumbles in the locker room.

We lost a home game against the weakest team in the country.

They probably think they won the fucking Stanley Cup.

What a mess.

Graham probably didn't help as he waved a shit eating grin right at Braxton as he skated past the sin bin.

Graham now has a broken nose.

And Braxton has another penalty under his belt.

When I enter the apartment, it's dark, a quiet humming from the fridge the only sound drafting through.

I rummage around the kitchen for awhile, the groceries I picked up yesterday suddenly not looking so great.

Completely, utterly exhausted, I half stumble down the hallway, noticing Allie's light is flowing from under the door. I get a few more steps towards the bathroom when her door flies open with Allie holding a glass trophy that's almost bigger than her, as if she was about to swing it at my face.

"Shit! I-I heard the door and-and. Shit."

Her voice crumbles as she talks but she makes herself seem strong.

What she doesn't think I notice is that her eyes are red and swollen, her nose wet as if she was just blowing it tons.

Her steps are even slower than mine as she walks back into the room, throwing the trophy onto her desk, her movements completely unlike the things I saw from her the other day while she was competing.

She was graceful and fluent and today she seems...

Sad. Heartbroken.

Stepping inside her room, I carefully watch her mumble towards her phone that she holds tightly in her hand.

That's when my phone startles us both by ringing like a banshee in my pocket.

"Hey, Seth. Are you guys finally leaving winter wonderland?"

I hold the urge to tell him how mad coach is that he hasn't been here for over a week.

"You haven't checked your phone have you?"

I pause at that.

"No... Should I?"

That's when the line goes dead, and my phone immediately lights up again with a text from Seth.

Clinking on the link that he sent me, most likely a video of a fucking cat, it's a link to the campus radio and news channel.

"This weekend we got to see the second debut of Olympic gymnast, Allie Wes! She competed al four events with ease, earning herself a career high on bars.