Testing Limits

CHAPTER FOUR: OWEN

Hunter and Nick - the team's wingers - have been bickering back and forth about the music for the past 15 minutes. Usually I'd find this funny, except they keep disconnecting each other's phones from the Bluetooth speaker. The music keeps switching from Hunter's hard fast rap to Nick's laid-back R&B music. One of their songs would be lucky enough to be played for 10 seconds before the other puts on theirs and vice versa. Finally Nick puts on, 'Die For You' by The Weeknd, and that seems to shut Hunter up.

I've never been so grateful to be able to listen to one song in peace without interruption, but, then again, the two idiots make me grateful for a hell of a lot of things. For example: silence. I must jinx myself because whoever enters the apartment next, forgets to hold the door, which slams roughly against the wall, forcing a groan to slip through my lips.

I don't bother glancing over to see who's arrived. Coop swore that only the team would be here. That guy says a lot of crap. Nearly half the apartment is already filled with people that I doubt even he knows.

After this party is over, his ass will be the only one cleaning. At least we don't have practice till next week. With that thought, I bring the beer bottle resting in my hand up to my lips and take a swig of the cool beverage. Instantly I feel less tense and I slouch my body against the itchy couch, zoning out and listening solely to the music playing.

"Davis!"

Logan greets me with a slap on my back and I start to return the favour, but a blur of brown rushing to the kitchen catches my eye.

Determined to follow the mysterious brunette, I pat him on the shoulder before saying, "I'll be back man, need to take a piss."

I waste no time navigating my way through the sweaty bodies that have made the living room their dancing floor. When I finally make it to the kitchen my eyes scan for a glimpse of the girl but I have no luck until I see her balancing a Corona case on one leg while she continues to scan the fridge.

I swear, it's the hottest thing I've seen.

From her low rise jeans, beige crop top, bulky black platform boots, and navy Yankees hat, she definitely screams confidence. Not that boastful kind of confidence, but the more subtle kind, the one where you can tell the person is sure of themself just by observing them.

Walking with a purposeful stride, I make my way over to where she is miserably failing to open the Corona box, while poorly attempting to keep the fridge door open at the same time.

I place my hand on the fridge door, ready to flash her a classic panty-dropping smile; however, her unimpressed expression and impatiently raised eyebrow catches me off guard, but I quickly recover. "Need any help, gorgeous?"

"Seriously, Owen?" The mysterious brunette rolls her eyes, as I only piss her off further. I don't know how she knows my name, but as I get a closer look at her, something about her is oddly familiar. I can't place my finger on it, whether it's her long wavy brown hair that ends short of her waist or those entrancing ocean eyes framed by equally long, dark eyelashes that are currently staring at me as if I've grown two heads.

I mentally check off all the possible reasons why she looks oddly familiar. A relative? God, I hope not. I don't do incest. Even the brunette - as hot as she is - isn't an exception. A puck bunny maybe? Doubt it. She doesn't dress like one. Plus she looks like she would rather be anywhere but here right now.

Only one logical reason comes to mind. "Have we slept together?"

The mysterious brunette scoffs, places the entire corona box back in the fridge, and begins to walk out of the kitchen. Subconsciously, I quickly grab onto her bangle-covered wrist and turn her around.

"Are you seriously kidding me right now? Let go of me, jerk." She says, seemingly annoyed.

I'm struggling to come up with words when Logan barges through the group of people blocking the entry to the kitchen and makes his way directly towards us. His eyes zone in on my hand that's still holding the girl's wrist, and I swear he starts walking faster.

"Davis, what's going on? Cam, are you alright?"

I instantly let go of her wrist, and look back at her, but she seems to be preoccupied with her fingers.

"We were just joking around man, chill. Right Cameron?" I look at her praying that she agrees with me and that Logan will stop staring at me like he's seconds away from killing me.

She furrows her eyebrows briefly before nodding in agreement and smiling at me. To anyone else it would appear genuine, but the harsh narrow gaze directed towards me says otherwise. If looks could kill, I'd be long dead. Cameron Miller knew she had an advantage, and that thought alone made me a lot more uncomfortable than I'd like to admit.

Instantly, Logan seems to visibly relax and wraps a protective arm around his sister. I take that as my cue to go, and head back to the living room.

Not long after, I'm back on the itchy couch making out with a blonde who won't keep her hands off my chest. The scratchy sensation annoys the fuck out of me but I let her continue to do it, still stuck on how baby Cameron definitely doesn't look like a baby anymore.