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*mature content*
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Sloane Casey's life takes an unexpected turn when she becomes the new physical therapy assistant for the college ice hockey team. Needing the credits for her physiology studies, she is prepared to handle bruises and sp...
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Sloane
The night feels charged with an electric energy as we pull up to Malachi's house, the low rumble of bass vibrating through the car windows even before we step out. I'm not sure if it's the anticipation of the night ahead or just the general chaos that comes with these kinds of parties, but my stomach is a knot of nerves and excitement.
As we climb out of the car, I take in the scene—people are already spilling onto the front lawn, red Solo cups in hand, laughter and chatter blending into the steady pulse of music. Someone yells from the porch, another voice calls out in response, and the entire place feels like a living, breathing thing—wild, uncontained, and teetering on the edge of total mayhem. The house itself is practically shaking with the beat, lights flashing through the windows as if signaling that this is where the real action is.
I impatiently twirl a strand of my hair around my finger, my stomach knotting in a mix of anticipation and nerves. It's not that I don't like parties—it's just that I'm not always in the mood to navigate the kind of controlled chaos that Malachi Dixon's house parties tend to devolve into.
Harper, however, is practically vibrating beside me, her fingers tapping against her thigh as she surveys the scene. "This is going to be epic," she announces, her voice tinged with excitement and her eyes gleaming with a mix of excitement and mischief. She turns to me with a knowing smirk. "Time to show these hockey boys how to really party."
I offer a small smile, though I can't quite shake the uneasy feeling in my gut. Harper's enthusiasm is hard to resist, but there's a part of me that's still on edge. Maybe it's the fact that this is Malachi's house, and the thought of seeing him again stirs something inside me that I'm not ready to confront. Or maybe it's just the overwhelming vibe of the party itself, the sheer number of people packed into one place, all looking for a way to let loose. Something about this night feels...different.
"Ready?" Hazel asks, adjusting her jacket as a cool breeze sweeps through the night air.
"As ready as I'll ever be," I mutter, squashing down my nerves and following Harper up the front steps.
As soon as we step inside, we're hit with a wall of heat, noise, and the unmistakable scent of alcohol mixed with something sweeter.
The living room is a sea of people, bodies swaying to the heavy beat that's blasting from speakers somewhere in the corner and the air is thick, almost suffocating, and the thumping bass rattles through my chest, making it feel like the floor is moving beneath me. The lights are dim, casting flickering shadows along the walls, and the entire house feels alive in the way only a packed party can—an intoxicating blend of energy, recklessness, and lowered inhibitions.
"Wow, they really went all out," Hazel murmurs, her eyes wide as she takes in the scene.
"Of course they did," Harper replies, already on her toes, scanning for something—or someone. "These are hockey players—everything they do is over the top."
