Antagonym

Chapter 1

Blood pounded in my ears, rushing through my veins as sweat coated my skin despite the early chill of the October air in New Haven, Connecticut. My feet pounded on the concrete sidewalk of the opulent 18th century campus. I would admire the architecture but I was to busy trying to beat my latest three mile time, 18:17. A six minute mile is nothing to sneeze at but the people I surrounded myself with always pushed me to do better, although the voices of those who disapprove of my career path seem to ring the loudest.

My lungs burned like fire, the feeling of the dry environment and the crisp smell of winter freezing my insides and turning them raw in an instant. Most people hated the cold but I loved it; you had to when most of your hours were spent on an ice rink. It wasn't until I reached the familiar steel and glass doors of the brick Reece Stadium that I allowed my self to relax. I put my hands on my knees, panting like a dog while the woman standing next to me did the same, checking her smart watch for the time. "17:30 exactly," she breathed before slapping me on the back in a congratulatory move. "That's a new best for us both."

I straightened up and flashed a beaming yet exhausted smile at my sister in-law. I would definitely call her more of a sister or a best friend though, if we were being technical. "Nice to see the old age hasn't beaten in out of you," I bumped shoulders with the navy sports bra clad Yale University Men's Lacrosse Coach.

"More like the twelve and thirteen year old that take it out of me, not my age," Sylvia Riley scoffed while opening the door to the office section of the stadium. We walked side by side through the tiled hallway until we reached her large office full of gleaming trophies, metals, and plaques.

"I'm just saying, I hear thirty-six is a rough age," I joked with the bombshell brunette. My brother was one lucky man, that's for sure. Admittedly, it was a little weird at times, though. The media always had their conspiracy theories that I was really Sylvia and my brother's daughter due to our unique curves and similar height coupled with Finn's emerald eyes and dirty blonde hair. I couldn't help but snort at the rumors. Sylvia didn't even know Finn when she was fifteen, let alone hook up with him.

That was reserved for eighteen.

I should probably explain myself because my life is anything but ordinary. Well, for one, I defiantly don't go to Yale. I was actually a goalie for the Men's Division One Hockey Team at Quinnipiac, the defending national champions for three years in a row. My university happened to be a quick ten minute ride from Sylvia's office at Yale, where she had come to be the highest payed college coach across any sport.

When I wasn't with my friends, at classes, or at practice, you could bet that I was hanging out with Sylvia. Despite our fifteen year age gap, she was like my other half. Since I was fourteen I had been spending summers at my brother and her's beachfront mansion in Westport. My parents and I had never had a good relationship, leading to them estranging me at just sixteen. I've been with my brother and Sylvia since then.

You see, in reality Griffin Riley was my half brother, only our mother in common. Some might consider that off, especially since I changed my last name from Malton to Riley, my brother's last name. It had been an easy choice, finding more family in Sylvia's household than my own. My 'dad' had been more than excited for me to take his name over his ex-wife's husband's. Finn and Sylvia's dads might as well have been my fathers because I loved them like my blood.

I guess you could see why the media speculated so much.

"Yeah, Yeah, laugh it up. I hope you realize I'm still in the Olympics and I look like I'm your age. Let's not play the 'approaching forty' game," Sylvia shot back while pulling two ice cold water bottles out of the mini fridge under her dark wood desk. She tossed me one before collapsing in her leather chair. "Are you going to that party tonight?"