Breaking The Rules | Complete

Chapter 17

The door slammed shut behind me as I heaved a sigh, dropping my backpack by the entrance. We were only a few weeks into the semester and I was already annoyed with how repetitive everything was. Especially now that hockey wasn't even in the mix. I was antsy with routine. Mundane was the only word I could think of to describe it. I liked when things were spontaneous and unpredictable. These days everything felt like they were falling flat.

And I was fucking bored.

As I kicked off my shoes I nudged them to the side with my foot. The last thing I wanted to add to my day was another lecture from Hendrix about putting things where they belonged.

I was getting ready to pick up my bag and head up to my room when the flutter of conversation met my ears. There was a pause as I reached down as I tried to figure out who was speaking. There were two different voices. No. Three. All of which sounded nothing like my teammates.

I started down the hallway, fixing the strap of my bag over my shoulder. As I rounded the corner into the living room, I stopped short. Celeste was stretched out on the couch, her leg propped up on a cushion, an ice pack wrapped around her ankle. Two other girls I didn't recognize were with her, so lost in conversation that they didn't even notice me by the threshold.

An easy smile graced Celeste's face as she regarded the one that sat at the end of the couch. Right beside her injured foot.

"Got two left feet or something, Twinkle Toes?" I mused, leaning against the door frame.

All three sets of eyes snapped in my direction. The blonde that was perched on the ottoman definitely tweaked her neck from how quickly her head swiveled to look at me.

I raised an eyebrow, suspicion rising up in my chest. Celeste didn't have any friends—or at least, that's what Easton had insinuated. That was the reason why she had moved into the Hockey House, wasn't it, because she had nowhere to go? If that was the case, then who were these girls?

Celeste's throat muscles contracted as she swallowed. The calm she was feeling moments ago dissipated like a puddle on a hot day. I wasn't her biggest fan and I think she was aware of that. It almost made me feel bad for the way I treated her.

Almost.

Celeste mustered up a pleasant smile, though I could see the discomfort behind it. "Something like that," she said before continuing, "Maverick, these are my friends Juliette and Elodie. They're in my Intermediary Tech class."

It was a poor attempt at getting the attention off of her. But I wasn't interested in either of the other girls sitting in the living room. Not even the leggy brunette with the flushed face next to her.

Juliette fixed her hands in her lap. "Yeah, she took a pretty bad fall, but we made sure she got home okay."

I offered her a short nod, eyes zoning in on her ankle again. "You don't have it elevated enough."

Celeste didn't have time to respond to me. I dropped my bag back down to the floor before making my way over to the couch. Being that we were once a group of guys that lived here, pillows weren't high up on the priority list. The only reason we had any is because Booker stole a couple from a sorority house during one of his drunken tyraids the year before.

Without warning, I plucked one of the floral cushions out from behind her back. It earned me a little squeak and I had to fight back a smile.

Tension filled her body as my hand wrapped around the back of her calf, lifting it just high enough to slip the pillow underneath. A blanket of silence settled over the room as I placed her foot back down.