Ruthless Noble by Alley Ciz
CHAPTER 14
Ryan Donnelly flies downthe ice, handling the puck with the blade of his stick like it’s an extension of himself. That—that is what I want to be when I grow up. Yeah, sure, that’s a childish notion, but fuck me if he’s not one of, if not the best hockey player of a generation. He’s America’s answer to the Great One, Wayne Gretzky.
I’ve been a die-hard New Jersey Blizzards fan all my life. Most of the better memories I have with Dad are tagging along with him to his suite at The Ice Box, the arena where the Blizzards play.
The NHL MVP may not know it, but Ryan Donnelly has been one of the examples I consistently use in my arguments with Dad about being able to go pro. He’s a hometown hero, born and raised in Jersey, and he attended BTU, where I hope to go before turning pro myself.
My acceptance letter to Blackwell Academy was penned before I was even conceived. Thank Christ they have a stellar hockey team; otherwise the opportunity to be scouted by such a prestigious Division 1 program like the BTU Titans wouldn’t be more than a pipe dream.
Ryan dekes, and it’s only because Jase Donnelly, his brother and another BTU alum, somehow blocks the shot by practically snipping it out of thin air that it doesn’t go in.
“Holy fuck!” Duke jumps out of his seat. “Did you see that shit?” He gets all up in the television, obscuring my view of the Blizzard/Storm rivalry game.
I nod. “Sit the fuck down, bro.” Duke’s a true blue Blizzards fan too, but as a defender, he’s got a hard-on for the younger Donnelly sibling.
Duke flops back onto the couch just in time for me to see Jase Donnelly dump the puck to his teammate, skate around a Blizzards defender, and get into position for a slap shot that has won Donnelly the title of hardest shot at the All-Star challenges.
Along with Duke and me watching from home, the arena collectively releases a breath as the Blizzards’ goalie, Jake Donovan, executes an inhuman glove save.
“That’s going to be us next year.” Duke gestures to the TV, where Donovan slides his helmet up to taunt his brother-in-law while Ryan skates over and they share a gloved knuckle bump.
It isn’t until I don’t respond that Duke’s jovial attitude fades, his forehead creasing with a frown as he gives me all of his attention. “Brother?”
I hate the hesitation I hear in his tone. This entire situation is fucked.
For years, Duke and I have had a plan.
Kick ass in hockey. Help the Knights win as many state titles as we could in four years. Play for the same Division 1 team in college. Repeat our championship run in the Frozen Four. The theme: doing it together.
Now all that is in jeopardy.
Why?
Because I want a girl I can’t have, and the reason I can’t have her is because my best friend’s parents want her for him. It doesn’t matter that he doesn’t want her, and I’m sure she doesn’t want him.
You don’t know if she actually wants you though.
I slide a hand through my hair. Fuck! I’m letting pussy put my plans at risk. I’m a chump.
Before I get the chance to suck it the fuck up and finally talk to Duke about…everything, a beaming Mrs. Delacourte walks through the large archway leading into the den, the cause of my internal discord on her arm.
Holy shit!
I don’t know why this continues to be my reaction to seeing Savvy outside of school. Maybe it’s because she so rarely wears makeup or that the uniform helps when I try to pretend she’s just like every other bitch who roams the halls.
The why doesn’t fucking matter. What does is how the sight of her in a white, crocheted, long-sleeved minidress makes me rage for multiple reasons. The color is a slap in the face with what this evening is supposed to represent. It also makes my dick harder than should be allowed in mixed company because I have firsthand, dick-wetting knowledge of how un-virginal this bride would be on her wedding day.
“Duke, sweetheart, look who’s here.” This union may have been politically motivated, but Mrs. Delacourte is all heart-eyed happiness.
Duke, never one to disappoint his mother, stands up to meet her and his…fiancée halfway. “What’s up, Grand Theft Auto,” he says, pulling Savvy into a hug that she unfortunately returns.
“Can you not?” Savvy giggles. She. Fucking. Giggles. At Duke. I hate him. “You’re going to give your mom the wrong impression of me.” She gives a glance to Mrs. Delacourte, but she’s all smiles as she watches this disgusting display of playfulness. “And no cars were actually stolen in the making of that prank. They were just—”
Because I’m a fucking stalker, I notice every little detail of Savvy’s playful transformation that happens in the next second: the little twitch to her nose, the slight scrunch around her eyes, and the sliver of white as she bites the corner of her lip.
“—relocated,” she finishes.
Duke guffaws, and his mom’s eyes light up as he hooks an arm around Savvy’s shoulders and tucks her against him.
Aww…look how cute. I’m not at all thinking of ripping his arm off her.
Liar.
Duke starts to regale his mom with a colorful account of yesterday’s prank from BP, going as far as pulling out his phone and showing her the picture that went viral thanks to Eric Dennings sharing it on his Insta.
“I still wanna know how you pulled it off,” Duke says, and Savvy makes a zipping motion across her lips as the rest of the parentals filter into the room.
Duke pouts when he learns that Savvy told Mitchell the details. The clown even drops to his knees to beg. I’d laugh at him making a fool of himself, but Savvy’s giggling again makes my blood boil. Not the sound of it—that’s magical music; it’s how Duke is the one to inspire it, not once, but twice now. Tessa is the only one I’ve witnessed who can bring out this side of Savvy. What does it mean that Duke is joining such selective company?
“We’re supposed to be getting married, Princess.” My hands curl into fists at Duke using my name for her. “Doesn’t that entitle me to some liberties?”
Fuck that. I’ll take his liberties and shove them up his ass sans lube before I let them anywhere near Savvy.