Breaking The Rules

Chapter 18

On a good day the walk back home from campus was less than ten minutes. It was a leisurely stroll through the suburbs of the city. Streets lined with mature trees and a sprinkle of traffic. But with a messed up ankle, those ten minutes soon transformed into twenty. Despite the autumn chill, sweat stuck to my forehead as I hobbled down the sidewalk. It had only been a couple of days since I had injured myself.

Normally, I didn't have any reason to go to campus on the weekend. But I promised myself that I'd spend at least one of the two days collecting applications for part-time jobs. I had two strong motivators; my financial situation and the desire to move out of the Hockey House.

All the determination that fuelled me that morning had dissipated. It was replaced by the dull throbbing of my ankle and annoyance that I didn't take Hendrix's offer for a ride earlier. Maybe then I wouldn't be as sore.

Freakin' pride.

I stalked up the stairs of the Hockey House, an ache beginning to sear into my hip from the way I'd been compensating for my ankle. Heaving a sigh of relief, I pushed open the door, juggling a stack of job applications in one hand and my backpack in the other. The afternoon had been long and tedious—just one stop after another across campus, collecting forms from the library, the coffee shop, even the student rec center. I needed the money and, more importantly, something to keep me busy, but after the day I'd had, all I wanted was to get home, put my feet up, and let my ankle rest.

As I stepped into the house, there were two things that were very, very wrong.

The house was usually loud with the Falcons hanging around, but today, there was something... off. Country music wasn't funneling out from the kitchen, and Booker and Maverick weren't cursing each other out in the living room. Before I could think much of it, I dropped my backpack on the floor and kicked off my shoes, ready to head to the kitchen for some water.

I made my way towards the kitchen, wondering if my housemates had some sort of hockey-thing that Easton hadn't told me about. All the lights on the main floor were off––which was something that also never really happened. Even at night, Booker opted to leave the light above the stove on incase someone needed something.

Shaking off the feeling, I stepped into the kitchen. That's when it happened.

The lights suddenly flicked on, and before I could react, the entire room exploded in noise.

"Surprise!"

I froze, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest as I saw the people jumped out from behind the island. A couple other faces I wasn't too familiar with popped out of the living room. A big banner hung over the back door, reading "Happy Belated Birthday, Celeste!" in bold, colorful letters.

"What—" I started, hand flying to my chest. It was a futile attempt at slowing the stampeding of my heart within my chest. "Not to sound ungrateful," I said. "But my birthday was almost a month ago now."

Easton grinned from ear to ear from across the kitchen. "We figured better late than never, right?"

"You guys..." I looked around, my throat tight. "You really did this? For me?"

Booker sidled up next to Easton. "Considering you're living here now, we thought what better way to celebrate than with us."

I took in the confetti balloons that rose against the high-ceiling and the chocolate cake that sat on the island with my name on it. Warmth flooded through me. I hadn't expected this. Not even close. After what had happened with Miles, I figured birthdays were just another thing I'd have to let go of for a while.

Easton made his way over and placed a red solo cup in my hands. "Let me introduce you to everyone before Booker tries to convince us to cut the cake."

I let out a little laugh, connecting my arm to his much larger one as he paraded me around the main floor, greeting teammates and significant others I hadn't had the chance to officially meet.