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chapter seven: good luck charm
a/n:
tw(s) — the chain™️ (bc y'all are fucking feral), i will avoid actually writing hockey and cheer as much as humanly possible, drugs n alcohol, gwen is a jealous whore who does jealous whore things
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The first varsity game is only a week after the first respective practices, and Gwen is more worried than she's ever been about a hockey game.
Not only does she have to keep an eye on her cheerleaders (make sure they're in all the right places, saying the right cheers, and aren't going to freeze) and her boys (as captain and goalie, they're both liable to getting absolutely killed), but her little brother is going to be out there, too. And, sure, she understands hockey to an extent. She understands that people get hurt in a sport where it's completely legal to hurl each other around on a surface as solid as ice. It's just the circumstances that make her anxious. Adam is younger and scrawnier than any of the boys who will be out there tonight, and he's a magnet for danger when it comes to this. In every major game he's played in the past few years, he's been put in the hospital.
There's no way she can protect him when he's out there.
The locker room is buzzing with energy. Gwen paints one of the freshman's faces with glitter, trying to keep herself busy as she listens to the excited chatter that bounces off the walls. The girl, a redhead named Riley, expressed interest in the glitter only after watching Gwen do her own, so now the two of them sit on the benches and Gwen holds Riley's chin with a gentle yet firm grip.
She's one of the more tolerable freshmen.
Gwen probably wouldn't have done it otherwise.
"Are you excited for the game?" She tilts her head to the side. The glitter isn't exactly an intricate thing like eyeliner, but the girl's skin is very fair and she doesn't want her to look stupid.
Riley shrugs. "I don't know. I guess."
"You guess?"
"I'm worried. What if, like, I look stupid?"
"So what? Everyone's looked stupid at least once in their lives." It's Gwen's turn to shrug. "You're a cheerleader. Nobody'll care."
"I care. I care a lot."
"Maybe that's the problem. Maybe you should care a little less about what other people think and a little bit more about what you do."
Riley chews on the inside of her cheek and is pensively quiet. Gwen finishes up and smiles.
"Besides, if anybody says anything, we'll kick their asses. Isn't that right, Lex?"
Alexa gives a noncommittal response as she fixes her lipstick.
"You're all done, sweetheart."
"Thanks, Gwen." Riley smiles shyly before she goes over to one of the mirrors to check it out.
Gwen breathes a laugh and screws the lid back onto the body glitter. Then she checks her face in the mirror of her compact.
There's a method to how Gwen gets ready for games. A simple eye look and bold lipstick, glitter on her cheeks and temples, and a high ponytail wrapped in a bow: had they been doing a performance tonight and not been wearing long sleeves, she would have put glitter on her shoulders, too. In the end, she wants to look like the image that a person conjures in their head when they think of a cheerleader.
So, barring the paranoia that her brother will be beaten to a pulp in just half an hour, she's in her element right now.
"Hey, Gwen, are you going to the after-party tonight?"
Rachel's question breaks her train of thought and she glances up to meet the other girl's gaze.
"We haven't won yet. How do you know there's going to be an after-party?"
The brunette sucks her teeth. "There'll always be an after-party, and everybody wants girls at their parties."
"If we win, then I'll go. If we don't, then maybe not."
"You should go either way." Cindy hums from across the room. "No offense, Gwen, but you have been a total bitch lately. I think you need to get laid."
The weight in her stomach gets heavier as the words sit with her. Rachel flips Cindy off for her.
"I don't need to get laid, actually. I think I need to be chaste for a bit."
(Or, at least, stop sleeping with my best friend's arch nemesis.)
"Whatever you say, Gwen."
Before Gwen can comment on that there's a knock on the door. It opens slightly and a guy's hand sticks through the door to wave.
"I'm not going to stick my head in because I don't know if you guys are dressed," Rick's voice drifts through, "but I need Gwen."
All of the girls in the room turn to Gwen and she rolls her eyes.
He's standing directly outside the door when she slips out, wearing his black compression shirt and shorts. They each take a moment to drag their eyes along the other before they make eye contact.
Rick's in his skates, too. He really towers over her right now.
"You're half-dressed." She accuses. "You're half-dressed in public, you hussy."
"I can see your midriff. You're half-dressed, too, hussy."
He pokes her in the stomach with his knuckle for emphasis and she bats his hand away.
"What do you need me for?"
Rick's expression suddenly turns serious. "Me and Mindy are broken up for good."
"Okay? Congratulations? You know, this is a really shit time for this all to be just dawning on you, seeing as you broke up like several months ago and are about to play."
Rick rolls his eyes. She cocks an eyebrow.
"Every time I played a game, even if we were on a break, I'd give her my chain for good luck."
Gwen tries to remember seeing Mindy with Rick's chain but just can't place it.
"And? What does that have to do with me?"
"She wore it every game and we won every game." He starts to gesture with his hands. Gwen can tell he's getting frustrated that she ain't understanding him, but she has no clue what he means. "What if we lose because she doesn't have it?"
"You hockey players and your superstitions."
"I'm serious, Gwen. What if we lose?"
"What if you don't?"
Rick gives her a flat look but she just returns it with one that's still vaguely confused.
"What? Do you want me to give it to her or something?"
"No. God, no."
"Then what do you need from me, Rick? Spit it out——"
"Could you wear it?"
That makes Gwen pause.
"What?"
A beat.
"Please?"
He's begging her, now?
"I don't know, Rick, I shouldn't be wearing jewelry——" She cuts herself off because of the look on his face. "Ugh. Fine. Fuck it."
A crooked grin cracks across Rick's face. "Thanks, Winnie."
"Shut up and hand it over, dork."
But, because he's bitten his nails down to the quick, he can't open it quickly. Thinking he's taking too long, Gwen stands on her tippy toes and leans forward to reach around his neck. He seems shocked by the sudden close proximity, their chests pressed together and their faces inches apart, but she tries not to think about the way his breath fans across her face. After she undoes the clasp, she pulls back and stands flat on her feet, again.
"Is that all?" She asks, fastening the chain around her neck.
Rick stares at her strangely for a beat before clearing his throat and shaking his head. "No. That's all. See you after?"
"Yeah. I'll probably be going to one of the after-parties with Rachel, if you want to tag along."
"Sure. I'll talk to Scott."
"Oh! One more thing." Gwen grabs his arm to stop him from turning away just yet. "Tell Cole that, if Adam gets hurt, I want him to crush them."
Rick's expression borders on amused but he nods. "Alright."
Her shoulders sag with relief. The chain is cool on her skin.
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The Eden Hall Warriors win four-nothing due to some stellar work on Scott's part, and Adam got through the game without getting gravely injured. He even scored a goal. Gwen considers it a net gain as the final buzzer gets drowned out by the cheers of the crowd.
She waits patiently off to the side as the players head off the ice one by one and go back to their locker room. Adam gets a high five and another admission of pride from Gwen, and Cole gets a fist bump (but only because he insisted on it.) When Scott emerges, she jumps up to hug him and he catches her, moving to the side with her in his arms so that others can still pass.
"That was awesome!" She shouts over all of the noise. "You guys did so well!"
"Thank you!"
He's smiling as he puts her back down on her feet. She smiles back.
"Rick said you took his chain." Scott, who must have discarded his gloves somewhere, hooks a finger in the chain. "Maybe there's more thanks in order."
Gwen rolls her eyes but remains smiling.
"Or, maybe, you guys won the game because you've been working hard at it?"
"Oh, c'mon, Winnie. You've always been a good luck charm."
Gwen resists the urge to roll her eyes again but doesn't continue to fight him on it. "Does Rick want this back, now?"
Scott shakes his head and leans in closer to her. "Keep it." He says in her ear. "Maybe we'll all get lucky tonight."
Gwen sucks her teeth and slaps him on the arm while he laughs.
She enters the locker room after Mindy's given her notes and she's only in there for all of five seconds before Rachel pounces on her. Rachel is grinning wide in a way that makes Gwen suspicious and, as she loops her arm through Gwen's, the blonde narrows her eyes down at her.
"What did you do?"
"Don't get mad," Rachel hums, voice light and airy, "but I kind of told Jeff that he could hitch a ride back to his place because he's throwing the party."
Now, of all things that Rachel could have done (and has done in the past), that was tame.
"Jeff? Seriously? He treats you like shit."
"Yeah, well, his dad owns a distillery, so that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make."
Gwen purses her lips. "Fine, but he's sitting in the backseat."
"Of course," Rachel says, teasing, "what would I do without my princess in the passenger seat?"
She pinches Gwen's cheek and Gwen elbows her.
The night air is still warm and humid when they file out of the building. Gwen sits in the passenger seat of Rachel's sedan and checks her makeup in the visor mirror, occasionally glancing in the rearview to look at Kabine in the backseat. He pulled out a baggie of pills when she got in the car and took one even if she denied his offer. She's not sure what it was but he's definitely tripping and Gwen doesn't want to deal with this, but Rachel's taking a disproportionally long time to stop talking to Jeff's best friend, Dom Labine, and he might freak out any minute now.
How does one throw a party when high off their gourd? Gwen doesn't entirely know, but that's none of her business.
(She has a feeling Dom's going to be doing half the work, anyway.)
"Hey, your brother's pretty cool." Jeff speaks slowly, words coming out of his mouth like molasses. "Is he coming tonight?"
"No."
The last time Gwen spoke to Jeff, she slapped him across the face for hitting on her after he hurt her friend. He seems to have forgotten that much.
"Why not?"
"Because he's fourteen and I don't feel like babysitting all night."
The truth was that Adam was scared shitless. He's never liked parties, and alcohol makes him nervous, so Gwen got him out of it by pretending to be a bad cop and sending him home with Jake and James. By now, he was probably sitting on Charlie's couch, safe and sound, but nobody needs to know that.
"But——"
Gwen turns the volume dial up until the Spin Doctors plays so loud that she can't hear him. Looking out the windshield, she tries to spot Rachel and Dom amongst the crowd trying to leave, but she doesn't find what she's looking for. Instead, she finds Scott and Rick out by the latter's car talking to Mindy and Cindy; Cindy reaches out to touch Scott's arm, and that weight is back in her stomach.
Maybe we'll both get lucky.
Reaching over, she presses on Rachel's horn. A few people jump, and more than a few heads turn to her, but she keeps her eyes where they are.
Scott's eyebrows are at his forehead and Rick lifts his arms as if to ask her 'what?' She fiddles with the chain around her neck.
Rachel emerges from the crowd with a flurry of apologies.
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In Gwen's opinion, the philosophy that every person is their own worst enemy is a lie. If she had to pick, she'd say that tequila is her worst enemy. (And then, after that, maybe Mindy.)
The party had reached full swing an hour into the night when Cole finally managed to crack open a crate of alcohol they found in the cellar with a crowbar from the shed. Jeff, like Gwen had suspected, was little to no help in all of it; he'd sat on his couch and stared into space as she, Rachel, and Dom put everything together. The tequila bottle had quickly been claimed by the cheerleaders who were bored of watching the boys play beer pong and decided to play a game of their own. Never have I ever quickly devolved into something more sinister as the co-captains of the team got vicious with one another, so the game ended abruptly and the girls were separated on either side of the large house. They lost Gwen after that, and Dom, who'd claimed to be searching for Jeff, found her.
Which is how she found herself here, locked behind the door of a bathroom.
Gwen doesn't think she's spoken to Dom more times than she can count on her hand, but she wouldn't want to ruin the moment by bringing that up. He isn't ugly (big blue eyes and brown hair that touches his shoulders) and he's not stupid. When she covered his mouth with her hand and told him that she didn't want him to kiss her, just to fuck her, he didn't complain. He just lifted her onto the edge of the sink and hiked her dress up over her hips, and got down to business.
"You're so hot, Banks." He whispers against the skin of her neck. He's two knuckles deep and is humping her thigh shallowly, hips stuttering as her stomach jumps. "I can't believe we're doing this."
Gwen struggles to maintain her breathing. He also isn't terrible at what he's doing.
"Yeah, well, you best believe it... And get on with it, would you?"
Dom smirks against her skin and mumbles something that sounds like yes, ma'am before retracting his fingers. He grabs one of her legs, pulls one of her knees to sit up on his hip, and then sinks into her. Gwen's breath lodges in her throat until his hips meet hers, but he makes this throaty noise that shoots straight through her. And it feels good—— the stretch, the burn, the fullness. In that moment, she's got nothing on her mind but the mounting pleasure and the feeling of being wanted.
But, then, disaster. He started to thrust and, after an initial spike, the pleasure went away.
It disappeared.
Just like it always does.
He's too lost to notice that she's not enjoying herself so much anymore, but she won't hold it against him. Up until this very moment, he was perfectly satisfactory. So, she silently lets him get his, her body rocking with the force of his thrusts; she stares up at a spot on the ceiling, wondering if it's water damage or a spider or a spot where the paint has chipped. When he does cum, his whole body shakes with it, and it's so warm even through the condom that her body shivers. The two of them sit in silence for a moment, their panted breaths being the only sound in the room. They sit that way, joined at the middle, until his cock softens and pulls out of her.
"You okay?" He asks, pulling his pants up as she pulls her dress down and plucks her underwear from the sink.
Gwen wipes her inner thighs before she pulls her underwear up her legs. "I'm fine."
(So much for a vow of chastity.)
"You've got a—— Here." Dom fixes her hair for her. "So, uh, was that as good for you as it was for me?"
(But, really, what's a vow of chastity to tequila that does nothing more than convince her that Scott and Rick were sleeping with Mindy and Cindy, too?)
"No." Gwen shakes her head. "Sorry."
Dom blinks. She shoots him a sympathetic smile and squeezes his arm before leaving.
Gwen passes by plenty of people on her way back down to the bottom floor. She doesn't make eye contact with any of them, but she's got the sinking suspicion that more than a few of them know what was going on. And, if they didn't, they'd find out when Dom came out of the bathroom, too, and looked utterly defeated. Any sensible person would probably pity him, too.
(It's just the effect Gwen has on men.)
Down in the kitchen, the blonde pours herself a glass of tap water and drinks it all in greedy gulps. Then she pours herself another and sits back, watching as a game of beer pong (hard liquor edition) devolves into something she doesn't understand the more the players drink. Dom doesn't come downstairs. Or, if he does, he avoids her at all costs.
She mindlessly plays with the chain while she quietly wonders if he's found his best friend.
"Gwen——" Someone says from beside her. "Gwen!"
Gwen jumps and turns to face them. Scott is staring at her, eyebrows knit with concern.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah." She nods. "Just cutting myself off."
Gwen offers him her water but he shakes his head.
"I, uh, I think I'm gonna cut out. Rick's at the fun stage where he's sitting on the porch and crying, so I'm gonna get him home before he gets any worse."
"Yikes."
Rick is only a fun drunk for a short period of time.
"Yeah. Do you want to come with?"
Gwen thinks about it. Does she want to linger around at a party where she's shattered every dream of one of the hosts?
"Sure. Let me go find Rachel and tell her."
"You won't have to look very far." Scott says, and then points. Rachel is on the impromptu dance floor and grinding with Jeff, who looks less worse for wear than he did before. Cole watches them from a few feet away, stone-cold sober. "Would it be weird to say that I hope Cole punches him?"
"No. I think she really likes Cole, I just don't think she knows what to do about it."
"So she fucks around with another guy?"
Gwen doesn't have an answer to that. She just finishes the last of her water and puts the cup in the sink.
"Hey, Cole!"
Cole's head snaps up to her.
"Get her home safe by any means possible! Kill Jeff if you have to, I don't care!"
Cole nods and salutes her. Though she can say plenty of things about Cole, she can at least admire his loyalty to people and his willingness to follow orders.
"Are you okay to go now?"
"Yeah." Gwen lets Scott take her by the hand and lead her out of the house.
Rick is exactly where Scott said he was. Gwen crouches down next to him as Scott goes to get the car and wraps her arms around him.
"What's wrong, Rick?" She asks and rests her chin on his shoulder. "What's got you so sad?"
He shrugs slightly and makes a noncommittal sound that's something like I don't know. She sucks her teeth and squeezes him; he leans into it.
"We're gonna go back to Scooter's, okay? And tomorrow, if Mrs. Holland doesn't, I'll make us breakfast."
Rick nods and rubs the heels of his palms into his eyes.
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Scott gives Gwen a pair of old sweatpants and a shirt to wear for bed, and she steps out into his bathroom to get dressed while he deals with Rick. The sweatpants are so long that she has to roll them several times at both the waist and ankles, and the shirt hangs off her frame like a dress, but they're soft and smell good, so she doesn't complain.
When she gets back into Scott's room, Scott is taking Rick's shirt off like Rick's a child. She stands in the doorway, amused, until Rick sees her around him.
"Gwen," He holds a hand out for her.
Scott turns to her and grins. "Have fun."
"You are going to be such a bitch in the morning," Gwen says as she walks to the bed and lets Rick hug her around the waist. With his chin on her stomach, he looks up at her. "I guess that's okay, though, because you're cute right now."
Scott, removing his shirt in her periphery, scoffs.
"You only think he's cute because you didn't have to hold him up while he puked."
Gwen doesn't pay him any mind. She runs a hand through Rick's hair.
"You feeling better, big guy?"
"Yeah." He says quietly. A beat of silence passes. "Y'know... your eyes——"
"Are really pretty, and they're your favorite shade of blue. I know." She finishes for him.
Rick blinks, surprised.
"You say that every time you drink, big guy."
"I——"
"You also think Scott has really nice lips. Which you do, by the way."
Scott shakes his head, but smiles, still, nonetheless. "Thanks."
The goalie approaches the bed when he's done. Gwen unwinds Rick's arms from her waist and nudges his shoulder gently.
"C'mon, Rick. Lay down. I'll let you spoon me as long as you don't puke all over the place."
"Deal."
It takes him a minute to get up to the head of the bed, but he gets there eventually. Gwen crawls up in the center after him and his arms are wrapped around her almost as soon as her head hits the pillow; Scott walks around and turns off the lights before he assumes his spot on her other side.
Gwen stares intently at the tattoo on Scott's ribs as Rick settles, asleep almost instantly, behind her.
"What's wrong?" Scott asks eventually.
She can barely see him as her eyes adjust to the low light but, judging by the tone of his voice, she knows he's got that concerned look on his face again.
"I don't know."
"Are you okay?"
Gwen shrugs. "Yeah, I guess... I was just—— I was with a guy before you came and found me."
Scott's emotions shift and the bed dips, slightly, as he sits up on his elbow.
"Did he try something?"
"No, no. It was consensual." Gwen shakes her head. "I just didn't enjoy it... I, uh, I never do."
"Oh."
A silence overcomes the two of them. Before she knows it, tears are pricking Gwen's eyes.
"Do you think there's, like, something wrong with me?"
"I know lots of things are wrong with you." He settles back down. "But, no, this isn't one of them."
"Really?"
"Yeah, maybe you just haven't met the right person, yet."
She sniffles. "And if that isn't it?"
"Then you don't like sex, and that's a perfectly acceptable thing."
Gwen wants to tell him a whole host of things, but she doesn't. She just nods and smiles.
"Guess the good luck charm worked for one of us, didn't it?"
She snorts obscenely and shakes her head.
"I hate you."
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a/n:
the banks siblings all have a type, apparently.
idc if you hate cole, i won't write a man to be rapey if i don't have to. i'm not a man who uses that for shock value.
scott said ace rights.
things get kinda crazy from here on btw. you've been warned!
comments and votes are super appreciated! they let me know that you guys like my writing and I cannot stress how much they motivate me to continue! thank you