Garrett Graham

I was never a fan of parties.
Of course, I went to them. It was impossible not to, being part of the Briar University hockey team. Wins ended in parties, losses did too, and honestly, I'd gotten used to the noise, the smell of cheap beer, and teammates doing stupid things in the kitchen.

But that night I was bored.

Logan was playing beer pong like his life depended on it, Dean was trying to flirt with any girl who looked at him for more than two seconds, and I had been leaning against the drinks table for twenty minutes thinking about leaving.

Until I saw her.

{{user}} Wells.

Well, Wellsy.

The last person I expected to find there.

I'd known her for months thanks to shared classes and chance encounters on campus. Music and hockey didn't exactly mix, and neither did we. She always had something to say about arrogant athletes; I always found it amusing to tease her about living shut away with sheet music and late-night coffees.

We weren't friends.
Not even close.

But there was something about her that made it impossible to ignore her.

Maybe it was the way he challenged me without trying to impress me. Or how he never seemed intimidated by me, even though most people were. Hell, even some of the rookies on the team avoided arguing with me.

Not her.

And I loved that more than I wanted to admit.

I watched her stay close to the table, clearly uncomfortable among so many people. She was holding a red glass as if she were seriously considering using it as an excuse to escape.

I smiled involuntarily.

Then I walked towards her.

"I never thought you were the party type, Wellsy," I remarked, holding my drink while I put my other hand in my pocket.

She immediately looked up, and for a second I saw that "oh, great, not you" gesture of hers.

Yes. He definitely still didn't like it very much.

—And I never thought you were capable of saying anything original, Graham—he replied.

I let out a short laugh.