Page 30 of Top Shelf

People think pain makes you weak. It doesn’t. It makes you dangerous.

His words from the other night circle round in my head, raising questions, making me wonder…

There’s no smirk. No gloating. Just a brutal, unnerving calm. As though he’s already passed through the storm and is watching to see if I survive the wreckage.

It makes my skin crawl. Makes something deep inside me hum, low, painful, and familiar.

Like he’s not just looking at me—he’sseeingme.

And I don’t know which is worse.

The doors of the lecture hall hiss shut behind me, and for the first time since Lucian walked into class, my body relaxes. My blazer tugs at my shoulders. The buttoned blouse itches at my collarbone. My slacks feel two sizes too small, and that’s after spending the entire day tugging them back into place. I didn’t have enough time to go home and change after my internship hours and before class this morning—not that I really needed to. Everyone here dresses like they’re on their way to a corporate boardroom. I have yet to see a single student wearing a hoodie or sweats on campus. Not even the athletes. After practice each morning, every single hockey player changes into some version of a shirt and jeans or slacks to head to class. The only time I see them in leisure wear is around the sports complex. It’s just plain weird.

I reach into my bag, pulling out my phone just as it vibrates in my hand. A new email flashes across the screen.

From: Professor Cartwright

Subject: Project Partner

Assuming it must be the standard contact info, maybe a copy of the assignment brief, I tap it open, already walking toward the quad, my mind half on the walk home and the clothes I’ll shed the moment I get there.

Until I stop dead in my tracks, forcing students to divert around me as I stare dumbfounded at what I’m reading. Because the email is not what I expected.

This is to inform you of a partner change for the SportsMedia and Communication project. You have now been reassigned to: Lucian Caulfield.

My stomach drops so fast that it feels as though the pavement has been ripped out from under me. I blink once. Twice. Re-read it to make sure I didn’t hallucinate the words. But there they are. Plain as day. Cold. Formal. Final.

Lucian.

Lucian. Fucking. Caulfield is my new partner.

The world goes fuzzy around the edges, my breathing growing louder in my ears.

I can’t breathe. I can’t?—

It’s one thing to be stuck on campus with him. To have to see him at practice. Even being confronted by him the other night, but…he was therethat night.I know he was. Don’t ask me how because I don’t recall seeing him—or much of anything—and I was alone in that hotel room when I woke up the next morning, but in my gut Iknow. From the moment I heard Ronan’s voice in The Stanley, I knew all three of them were involved that night. It’s the way hockey players roll. Always together. Always a team—on and off the ice.

I clutch my phone tighter, pulse screaming beneath my skin. Cartwright said there were no swaps. He was explicit about it. Went on an entire miniature rant. And yet…here we are. Lucian fucking Caulfield snapped his fingers—or whatever it is people like him do—and now I’m stuck.

Trapped.

My legs start moving before my brain catches up, blindly pushing forward as if motion alone will outrun this dread crawling up my spine.

Why? Why does he want to be my partner? Why did heseek me out the other night? Why were the three of them stalking me last week? What do they want? My mind spins, panic sending me spiraling. They must want to know what I remember. Or maybe they want to ensure my silence. That second thought sends acid churning in my stomach.

Monsters in purple and gold jerseys.

Walking numbly through the quad, oblivious to the goings on around me, my steps slow as a poster flutters on the breeze, drawing my attention to the announcement board outside the admin building.

Stepping off the path, I move closer to read it.

HELP WANTED

Part-time Bartender at Crooked Crown

A bartender job. My interest instantly piques as I tear the flyer from the board. I’ve never heard of the Crooked Crown, and while it sounds more uppity than The Stanley, the thought of getting behind a bar, feeling an ice-cold beer in my hand, the hum of a busy venue…

I suddenly want that so badly.