The Graham Effect (Campus Diaries, #1)

Ryder tenses slightly, as if surprised to hear it. Hell, I’m surprised to say it.

“I’ve never said it out loud. I don’t know if I’ve ever even thought that deep into it, but… He has everything. The Cup, the awards, the all-time records, MVP titles, almost-certain Hall of Fame induction. I will never come close to achieving even half of that.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “But one thing he never did was compete for Team USA. And that’s the one thing I can do.”

Ryder rolls over so we’re lying face to face. He watches me, his expression indecipherable.

Sometimes I hate that he’s able to draw things out of me without even trying. He doesn’t ask or beg or push me to talk to him. It just happens when he’s around. All my secrets spilling out with abandon.

“I want…to feel important in my own life,” I admit. “Achieving this is a way for me to finally step out of his shadow. I can be an Olympic gold medalist. Something my dad will never be.” I groan in desperation. “It feels so petty to say it. Is that awful?”

“Depends on whether it’s the only reason you want to compete. Is this nothing but a Fuck you, look at my medal, old man?”

“Of course not.” I flinch. “It’s like the teeniest part of it. A sliver of a percentage that pokes at the back of my mind sometimes. Competing on the world stage is so much bigger than him. It’s exciting.”

“Good. Focus on the excitement. But also acknowledge that the sliver exists.”

“I feel bad acknowledging it,” I admit, closing my eyes.

I jerk when I feel his thumb stroking my chin.

“You really need to get over this,” he says gruffly.

I frown. “Wow. I just shared something really important and—”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” He shakes his head at me. “You need to stop feeling bad about the way you feel. You hate that chick Emma and feel bad about hating her. You want something your father doesn’t have and feel bad wanting it.”

For some reason, my throat tightens. The sting of tears burns my eyes. Oh my God, I better not cry.

“It’s like you refuse to voice even a shred of negativity; otherwise it makes you a bad person. Or you feel like you need to be eternally grateful for being born wealthy and gifted.” He wraps his arm around me, his lips gently brushing mine as he strokes his hand down my bare arm. “Just feel what you feel. It’s okay.”

I blink to keep the tears at bay, but they’re threatening to spill over. And not because I’m ashamed by everything I’ve confessed.

It’s the undeniable awareness that I’m developing feelings for this guy.

“I…” I take a breath, attempting to steady my voice. “I’ve never met anyone I felt comfortable sharing all that with.” I peer into his bottomless blue eyes, always floored by how vivid they are. “I don’t feel like you judge me. About anything. Ever.”

“I don’t.”

“Do you feel like I judge you?”

“Never,” he says simply.

Then he visibly gulps, and I know precisely how he feels.

This is fucking terrifying.

Ryder rolls us over so that he’s on his back and I’m draped over his bare chest. He runs his fingers along my naked skin, from my shoulder to my tailbone, before resting his palm on my hip. I shiver from his touch.

“Gisele,” he says.

“Mmmm?”

“Are we dating now?”

A smile tickles my lips. I rise slightly on my elbow and gaze down at him. He’s biting his lip and it’s adorable.

“Yeah. I think we are.”





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR


GIGI



The world is scary sometimes


I SNEAK OUT OF RYDER’S HOTEL ROOM AT AN UNGODLY HOUR because I’m terrified the Briar men’s bus will show up early and somehow Case will see us.

I’m going to have to tell him eventually, I know that. I just hate the idea of hurting him. We were together almost two years. There’s history there.

I assumed Ryder and I would hook up a few times and then it would end. Case would be none the wiser. Never even need to know. But Ryder and I can’t keep hiding anymore. It’s been months now. Which floors me, because it feels like I’ve known him forever. I can’t remember a time when one of his drugging kisses didn’t fog up my brain.

We win our afternoon game, remaining undefeated thus far this season. Then we have an hour to grab an early dinner before going to watch the men play. I haven’t seen any of their games since Ryder and Case went camping in the middle of the road. They’ve racked up four consecutive wins since then, and from what I’ve heard, they’ve been an unstoppable force, but this is my first time experiencing it in person.

Right off the bat, I see the difference. Especially with those two. They’re gelling like I’ve never seen before, a deadly attack squad with Will serving as the third forward. Beckett and Demaine are the d-men, the pair of them also on fire.

“Oh God,” Cami groans. “He has such soft hands.”

She’s talking about Beckett. It’s true—he doesn’t have the speed of Case or Ryder, but man, the ease with which he wields that stick…

“He’s magnificent,” she sighs.

“Have you still not hooked up with him?” Whitney says in amusement.

“No!” Cami whines. “Can you believe this? It’s unacceptable.”

The score is tied 1–1 for most of the game, until midway through the third period, the craziest play I’ve ever seen goes down.

Case takes a hit from his opponent, and as he goes falling to the ice, he manages to tip the puck. And Ryder, who just got checked himself and is in the process of spinning around from the impact, somehow manages to scoop the puck, do nearly a complete 360, and stuff the puck in between the goalie’s leg pad and blocker.

Goal.

The entire rink loses it, even the home crowd. Because that was truly the coolest thing on the entire planet. There’s an explosion of cheers and hollers as my teammates and I jump to our feet screaming our lungs out. An amazed and ecstatic Ryder thrusts both arms over his head just as Case throws his own arms around him. Flashbulbs go off, and I suspect that iconic victory pose is going to be blasted all over the sports blogs tomorrow.

“God, when he smiles…” Whitney says, shivering.

I realize she’s admiring Ryder, who skates past the plexiglass and tips his head in our direction. I told him where we were sitting, and although I don’t know if he sees me, the devastatingly handsome grin he flashes the stands sure feels like it’s for me.

Five minutes later, the final buzzer goes off and Briar wins 2–1.

“Come on. Let’s go wait for the boys,” Cami says, hopping to her feet. “We gotta drag them out to celebrate.”

We follow the people in our row toward the end of the aisle, but it’s slow going. And once we get there, we join another line inching its way to the bottom of the bleachers. I take a step, then stop abruptly when Cami stops, which causes the person behind to bump into me. I glance over to apologize.

“Sorry,” I tell the beefy blond guy.

“All good.” His eyes then widen in appreciation. “Hi there.”

“Hey,” I say politely, then face forward again.

I jerk when I feel a tiny tap on my shoulder. I glance over again.

“You ladies have any plans for the rest of the night?”

“Just going to meet our teammates.” I keep my gaze straight ahead and will the line to move faster. I can already tell this is not going to go in the direction he wants.

“Teammates? You mean the Briar dudes? You play too?”

“Yep.”

A slimy grin spreads across his face as he moves a bit closer. “That’s hot. I love female athletes.”

I try to shuffle faster to get away from him. He’s invading my personal space now and I don’t like it.

Cami twists to look at me, lifting a brow as if to ask if I need help. I give a slight shake of my head.

“I really mean that,” he tells me, as if I care whether or not he does.

“Cool.” Relief hits me as we reach the bottom row. “Well, see you around,” I say, and anyone capable of picking up on social cues would know I don’t mean it.

This guy is not capable. “I’m looking forward to it,” he drawls, winking at me.

Case texts as we reach the lobby of the rink.