When Lyla arrives at her new school, Crestwood High, her hopes of a new beginning are quickly challenged by the schools walking one-night stand. Lean, killer jawline, captain of the ice hockey team, and rude as all hell, Jack Hughes is everything Ly...
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It had been too good to be true.
My night, with Jack. He'd been touchy all night, even after we'd taken off our skates and grabbed out bags, ready to leave. Jack wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me close.
"You're not a bad skater, Jones," he teased, ruffing my hair as he always seemed to do. I ducked, trying to get away from his hand, but not being quick enough, and ending up with fuzzy hair. I pouted. "For a figure skater, I mean"
I pushed at Jack's shoulder with my own. "You're an idiot," I laughed, shaking my head in mock disappointment. I'd known for some time that Jack was well and truly over his rivalry with my chosen sport, and that was finally starting to accept that maybe I wasn't such a prissy girl, like he'd originally thought. "I could skate circles around you, pretty boy."
He raised an eyebrow in my direction. "If you say so, little one."
"Little one?" I questioned, smirking.
He shrugged, giving me a lopsided smile. "You're small."
I giggled. "You like it."
Jack nodded, about to speak, when the words were suddenly stopped and he came to a halt, right by his truck. I looked up at him, confused, before turning my attention to whatever it was that he was looking at. My heart sank, because, right in front of us, waiting by Jack's RAM, was Reid and three of his hockey goons.
I gripped Jack's arm, trying to pull him back, but he didn't budge. My heart raced in my chest, I knew what they wanted, I knew what they were going to do.
"Jack," I whispered. "We have to go back."
"It's okay, Lyla," he spoke, his tone low. His stare didn't waver as he continued to keep his eyes on Reid. "They won't touch you."
"I know," I begged. "Please, Jack. They're not here for me."
Reid laughed from across the car park, and I knew there and then that he had been drinking again. This was worse than I thought. All four of the boys across from us had hockey sticks in their hands, but I knew they weren't here to play hockey.
"Hi, Lyla," Reid mused, cocking his eyebrow with a dark smirk that terrified me all the way to my bones. "It's so funny," he spat. "I was just telling the boys how you'd gone home from work sick."
I felt like I was going to pass out, I tugged on Jack's sweater, trying desperately to get him to come with me back inside the rink, though, I knew deep down that no matter where we went, we weren't safe. We needed to get to his car, so we could drive off and not look back.
"But that can't be right," Reid continued. "Because you're here, right now, and you don't look every sick."
The boys took a step closer to us, but Jack was smart, and he was turning us around, slowly, but surely, getting us to the safety of his truck. Jack kept his frame in front of my own, his arms out as a way of shielding me from the group of hockey players.
