Stick Your Landing (All In #3)

17. Finley

17

Finley

Déjà vu strikes while I stand in front of my brother’s teammate as he tries to impress me.

“As much as I love to play hockey, there’s nothing like being on campus. Studying on an airplane with a bunch of smelly dudes is nothing compared to sitting in Princeton’s quad when the leaves are turning in the fall.”

Sawyer’s more understated about it than other hockey players my brothers brought home in the past, including Garrett, who had one goal in mind and attacked like he was on the rush. None have ever tried to charm me by talking about their academic accomplishments, that’s for sure.

“Most places would be preferable to a smelly dude plane,” I reply.

“True,” he says with a laugh. “So what’s UPC like? Taking anything good this semester?”

His blue eyes don’t stray from my face, like he’s interested in what I have to say. I like that about him, even if I chose this costume with distraction in mind, for Zach. The look on his face when he saw me for the first time made every uncomfortable second in leather worth it.

I consider telling Sawyer about my 80s literature class that’s made me consider majoring in English, but it’s information I’d rather confide in Zach.

Instead, I say, “There’s this interesting class about historical events since the 1950s. One of our assignments was to watch The Big Short about the financial crisis in ’08. I never thought I’d find the stock market fascinating, but it was a good movie.”

“Briggsy was talking about that movie the other day. Said he wished everything was explained to him by Margot Robbie in a bathtub.”

I roll my eyes. “Of course he said that.”

Sawyer cocks an eyebrow, as if he’s realizing Zach and I are friends. If Sawyer didn’t know, does it mean Zach doesn’t like me as much as I like him? Am I only a way for him to pass his time while sidelined from hockey?

My stomach turns over like it’s filled with curdled milk.

Sawyer props an elbow on the table beside us. “Do you plan to major in history?”

His eyes gleam . Women would die for his shade of blond hair, the spitting image of a Ken doll, but I can’t find one part of me waking up for him the way I do for Zach.

I shrug, forcing a smile on my face. “What are you majoring in?” I ask to divert the conversation off me.

“Engineering.”

“Oh, come on,” I blurt, waving a hand in his direction. “A professional hockey player who looks like you studying engineering? It’s like you walked out of a romance novel.”

Sawyer throws his head back, laughing, as one of his hands lands on my forearm. “Speak for yourself,” he says. “Hot gymnasts with senses of humor are pretty rare.”

I freeze, so shocked to hear him call me a gymnast I don’t register the drink being placed in my hand. By Zach. His eyes land on Sawyer’s hand still on my forearm. I pull away immediately, but from the glazed-over expression on Zach’s face, I know the damage is done.

“Zach,” I say, but he’s pointing over his shoulder, cutting me off. “I’m going to find Volk and Kennedy. I’ll catch ya later, all right?”

My entire body flashes hot, a ball of dread settling in my gut.

Sawyer slowly shakes his head. “You’re not available, are you?”

“I suppose those are the deductive reasoning skills that got you into Princeton, huh?” I reply, but my gaze follows Zach across the room to the foyer. I hand Sawyer my drink. “Sorry, but I—”

“No, go get him.”

I squeeze his shoulder as I pass. “You’re a good friend.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, yeah. I know I can’t compete with the way you two look at each other.”

My blood thrums loudly in my ears as I head in the direction Zach went, maneuvering through the crowd, scanning for him, ducking my head any time I make inadvertent eye contact with someone. I’m about to give up on finding him on the first floor when, finally, I catch a glimpse of his crossbow through an opening in the crowd.

I beeline toward him, driven by the need to fix this.

“Finley, hey,” Kennedy greets me. “I love your costume.”

Zach’s head jerks toward me, his eyes wide. Did he not think I’d follow him?

“Thank you,” I reply, motioning between Kennedy and Alexei. “I love Stranger Things .”

“This one had to be Steve since he has the best hair.” Kennedy grips Alexei’s arm and exaggeratedly rolls her eyes. “ Speaking of, we should freshen up.”

Volk’s forehead creases. “What? My hair looks grea—”

“We’ll see y’all later,” Kennedy says in a mock-innocent tone, making her intentions clear.

“Upstairs. Five minutes,” I whisper to Zach, my gaze flitting to the ceiling.

I don’t give him a chance to respond and take off for the steps. Three minutes pass, and I wait for him to appear, hoping he'll gives me a chance to explain.

I heave a sigh of relief when he comes into view a couple of steps from the top.

“You came.”

“You asked.” He stares at the floor. “So is he the kind of guy you’re into?”

“Who?”

He meets my gaze. “You know who I mean. Sawyer Jennings, the guy hitting on you.”

My whole world stops.

“But why wouldn’t he?” Zach goes on, his chest heaving, distress radiating with every breath. “Why wouldn’t anyone take their shot with you? Finley, you’re so fucking beautiful . Tonight, obviously.”

His hand gestures to me lengthwise, his eyes roving over my body, his hungry stare caressing my skin.

“But also in the mornings when you come downstairs and you’re still yawning. And when you’re doing that ridiculous wolf turn on the balance beam, like it’s as easy as walking. You’re funny and driven and smart. Who wouldn’t want you?”

Heat pools low in my belly at his admission, the confirmation his feelings for me match mine for him. I reach for his forearm, wanting to slow him down, to encourage him to take a breath.

But Zach keeps going, “And Jennings… did he tell you that he’s working on his degree at Princeton while playing in the NHL? He’s good too. I bet he’ll play top-line with me in a few seasons. And he’s nice and a good friend and every girl he meets wants him because he looks like a damn boy band poster come to life.”

I take a step forward. “Are you... jealous, Zach?”

He looks away but says nothing.

I take another step closer. “Because if you haven’t noticed, I’m not down there with him. I’m up here with you.”

“Why?” he asks, his dark eyes never leaving my face. I’m grateful because I want him to see how serious I am. Nothing happening between us is a joke or a throwaway action—not one damn thing since he walked into that stupid closet two years ago and found me on the floor.

“You know why.”

He lets out a ragged breath. “Please tell me anyway.”

My hand lands on his cheek, featherlight, allowing him to break this spell if he wants. “You’re the person I want to be around. Not some guy downstairs. Not anyone else. You .”

Zach’s hand covers mine as his eyes search my face, as if I didn’t deliver him a blinking red sign pointing straight to my mouth. Zach Briggs needed here .

But he’s wavering, probably for the same reasons I stopped myself from confessing how I felt sooner. His captain is my brother. Dating me will upset his friend and teammate. Attempting to cross the line from friends to something more without knowing how the other person feels is fucking terrifying.

“I want your friend to like me because I want you, Zach.”

I might combust if he doesn’t kiss me. This man who brought a long-dormant part of me alive, who’s supported me while keeping my secret, who pushes me to be the best version of myself, who said the words I’ve only dreamed someone would ever think about me.

His hand lands on my hip, gripping it tight. “Fuck it.”

“It’s about damn time,” I gasp, the words barely leaving my lips before they’re covered by Zach’s insistent mouth.

He kisses the way he does everything—at a thousand miles per hour—and it’s exactly what I need. My arms wrap around his neck, and I’m pulling him closer, needing the weight of his body against mine. His hands land on bare skin at the small of my back, sending a delicious zing up my spine.

I can’t think. I can’t think. I can’t think.

Every movement happens on instinct—a soft moan escaping when our lips meet, my tongue begging for entrance to his mouth, his hands slipping beneath my shirt, his fingertips skimming bare skin.

“Zach,” I murmur, and he pulls me closer, his erection pushing into my abdomen. I break our kiss, raking my teeth across his bottom lip. He shudders, and damn, I want to encapsulate this moment in a snow globe, to set it beside my bed and shake it every night to relive this perfection.

“You want me too.”

His head drops back with a slight groan. “You’re joking, right?”

“You didn't make a move, so I wasn’t sure—”

“You are so far out of my league, Finley.” The intensity in his dreamy brown eyes makes me gulp. “I like you. I like our friendship. I didn’t want to mess it up. Or all of this”— he points a finger up and twirls it around to indicate my family and living situation—“for you. I know there’s something you’re not telling me, and I don’t want to complicate whatever is going on—”

My fingers trail along his abdomen, toying with the waistband of his pants. “I don’t want to think about any of that right now.”

“Please don’t use me only as a way to forget. I can’t take it.”

I lay his hand flat on my chest, over my heart, beating like a drum during a solo in a rock song. For him. “This is for you.”

Zach’s breath catches, and I bask in it, more confirmation I unravel him.

“If we weren’t in a hallway where we could be caught,” I say, “I’d show you how much I want you.”

I guide his hand south, his fingers grazing my abdomen before I settle them above my waistband. I need Zach to relieve me of the thunderous throb between my legs.

“But because I can’t, I’ll settle for letting you know that when you heard me earlier this week…” I swallow hard before continuing. “I was thinking about you.”

“ Fuck , Finley,” Zach mutters before he crashes his mouth onto mine again, the momentum pushing me against my closed door so hard, I'm surprised it remains standing.

I’m fumbling for the knob when I hear Gemma’s voice. “Finley! Where’s my birthday girl?”

Zach pulls away, his eyes glazed with lust. “It’s your birthday?”

“Mm-hmm” is all I can manage.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” This man plays professional hockey, trains intensely to bust his ass at breakneck speed on the ice for forty seconds at a time, and he’s not able to speak without breathing hard right now. Because of me . “I didn’t get you a gift.”

I lean my forehead against his. “This is what I would’ve asked for.”

Zach kisses me again, once, slowly, his tongue working against mine in a way that has me pinching my legs together.

“You’ll find me later?” My lips graze his once again. “ Please find me later.”

“This doesn’t feel real,” he whispers.

I reluctantly pull out of his arms. His fingers weave through mine. I only break our connection because if I’m not downstairs soon, Gemma will come upstairs to find me.

“Don’t worry.” I give him a sultry smile. “I’ll fix that later.”