OFFSIDE will be published in January 2023 and is now available for PRE-ORDER on Amazon.

I will be editing offline for publication, including some minor plot-related changes to set up the story for a series. There will be content in the published version that is not in the Wattpad version, so don't miss out!

This draft will be removed in December 2022.

I was officially out of my element.

"Do you want something to drink?" Luke asked, blue eyes twinkling playfully in the dim candlelight. He was wearing a grey suit with a white dress shirt beneath it, unbuttoned at the very top, with his blond hair slicked back neatly. "Now that you're finally legal, I mean."

"Sure," I said. "Um, you pick something for us."

It was my 21st birthday, and we were at one of the swankiest restaurants in the entire city. I barely ever drank, and I definitely didn't know what to order at a place like this.

As the only child of two well-to-do lawyers from Chicago, Luke grew up dining at places like this every weekend. As for me, the youngest of four children born to a nurse and schoolteacher from a suburb outside Minneapolis, not so much. My family's idea of a big night out was hitting Applebee's once a month, and even that had to be worked into the budget.

He nodded, reaching for the wine list. "I'll get us a bottle of wine."

Luke flipped through the pages, looking over the wine selection with the intensity of someone purchasing a new car while I fidgeted in my seat, wishing I hadn't borrowed Amelia's heels. They were at least half a size too small and pinching my toes like crazy.

Prior to slipping into these torturous shoes, I'd spent the better part of the afternoon putting on makeup and getting ready. My roommates nearly took an eye out trying to help me apply fake lashes; it was a serious ordeal, and one that I vowed never to repeat.

I crossed my legs and surveyed the restaurant to distract myself, taking in the opulent gold accents and framed artwork lining the walls. The other tables were largely occupied by people at least ten years older than us, all well-dressed and well-groomed. This probably wasn't the type of place I would have chosen myself, given the chance, but Luke had surprised me. It was the thought that counted, right?

After another minute, Luke shut the menu, setting it aside. As if we'd summoned him, our server instantly reappeared. He was astonishingly tall, reed-thin, and looked like he could blow away in a heavy breeze.

"What can I get you started with this evening?" He gave us a pleasant, bland smile that said he didn't believe we could afford to be here. It was half-true.

"We'll take a bottle of the River Estates Cabernet Sauvignon," Luke said, handing him the wine menu.

"Excellent choice." The waiter gave us a little bow before turning on his heel and leaving.

I hoped he would return soon so we could order something to eat. After living on peanut butter sandwiches for a month to afford the little black dress I was wearing, the thought of seeing a loaf of Wonder bread or a jar of Jif ever again made me want to hurl. Now I was ravenously hungry for some real food—though the menu was written entirely in French, which I didn't speak.

Luke reached across the ivory tablecloth, taking my hand in his. He stroked the back of my hand with his thumb. "So, I've been thinking a lot about after graduation."

"Why, do you have news?" Excitement bubbled up in my stomach. I leaned closer, studying his face in the candlelight. "Who does Gavin think will bite?"

As captain of Callingwood's D1 hockey team, the Bulldogs, Luke's game had been solid over the last year. A number of NHL teams had showed interest in signing him, which gave him some degree of bargaining power and almost guaranteed he would be going to the league.

The big question now was which team he'd sign with. Specifically, which team his sports agent, Gavin Harper, could squeeze the best offer out of.

He drew in a breath, flashing me a tense smile. "That's kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, actually."

My stomach fluttered. "Okay."

This was it. We were finally going to make a plan. Long distance would be tough, but I knew we could do it. It was only for a year while I finished college. I could fly to him, he could fly to me, and in the off-season, we could live in the same city. Plus, we could FaceTime every day. Totally doable.

Our server reappeared, pouring a small amount of ruby wine into each of our glasses and waiting expectantly. Waiting for what, I had no idea. Then I realized we were supposed to sample it, but I didn't know what wine was supposed to taste like in the first place. I waited, watching, while Luke swirled the dark red liquid in his glass and tasted it, then nodded at the waiter in approval. He filled our glasses partway before leaving again.

"It's looking like it will be Tampa Bay or Dallas," Luke began.

"That's great." I took a sip of my wine, suppressing a grimace. It was astringent, like sour grapes and sadness. People drank this for pleasure? "I know you've been hoping for that."

"I have. But..." He trailed off, followed by a heavy pause.

"What is it?" It was probably a money issue or a disagreement over the terms. Luke wanted a clause in the contract to ensure he'd get playoff time in his first year, but not all teams were willing to agree to that.

"I think we should take a break."

My mouth went dry. "A break?"

Luke nodded. "You know I'll be leaving soon. Let's not make that harder than it needs to be."

I blinked, trying to process what he just said, but my brain kept freezing like a glitchy computer. Error: does not compute.

"You're not leaving until the end of the school year."

"But you knew this was coming... right?" His expression was somewhere between pity and incredulity.

My breath snagged, eyes pricking with tears. Of course I didn't. Why would I have poured myself into this sexy, low-cut dress that I couldn't afford, borrowed Amelia's four-inch heels from hell, and put on this much makeup? Hell, I was even wearing lipstick. Lipstick.

Obviously, I thought we were going to be discussing commitment, not coming to an end.

"Wait." I frowned, slowly working through the subtext behind what he'd said. "Are you asking for a break, or a breakup?"

He hesitated. "The second one, I guess."

"You guess?" My voice climbed an octave, drawing the attention of the tables around us. People turned and stared, a few of them glaring. "We've been down this road before, Luke. This time it's going to be permanent."

Luke cringed, making a lowering motion with his hands. "Let's not make a scene, B."

"Oh, I'm sorry." I grabbed my wine, taking an unladylike gulp. It was still gross. Slamming the glass back down, I glared at him.

"Am I embarrassing you while you break up with me in public on my birthday? Or was that why you did it here, so I couldn't make a scene?" Hot tears welled up in my eyes again. I gritted my teeth, swallowing. Right now, it was easier to be mad than sad.

"No, it's not—I didn't mean for it to come out like this." He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I've been thinking about it for a while and I wanted to be fair to you. I didn't want to lead you on."

"Right." I laughed coldly. The fact that he'd been thinking about it was a handful of salt in a fresh wound. I was wearing lacy underwear beneath this dress, planning to sleep with him later, while he was planning an exit strategy. How could I have been so oblivious?

"I can't believe you're doing this after you begged me to get back together with you this summer."

"But that's just it," he said. "You know we've been together for a long time. Pretty soon, the league is going to rule my whole life. Where I live, where I play, what I eat, everything. I just need some time to myself."

"Uh-huh." I tried to disguise the waver in my voice. "Time to play the field and hook up with puck bunnies, you mean. Just like the last two times." During our two other "breaks," I waited around for him while he slept with at least one other person. He groveled to get me back after both of those incidents and foolishly, I forgave him. I thought he'd actually changed.

"That's not what this is about."

"Okay." I scoffed, crossing my arms and blinking back tears. There was no way I would let him see me cry. "If it's not that, then what is it? There's got to be a reason you're pulling a 180 on me. Is it someone else?"

He frowned. "I can't believe you'd even think that."

"Well, I can't believe you'd do this, so I guess we're even." I grabbed the linen napkin off my lap and tossed it on the empty plate. Bracing my palms on the table, I stood up, pushing the back the red velvet chair. "I have to go."

"Don't leave," Luke pleaded, reaching for my arm. "We can have a meal together, can't we? I still want to be friends."

More like he still wanted to be on good terms with my brother, who played on the Callingwood Bulldogs with Luke as a defenseman. Unceremoniously dumping Derek James's little sister was sure to make for awkward conversation in the locker room before the next game.

Then again, my brother never stood up for me, anyway. Why would that change now? For someone who was a force to be reckoned with on the ice, Derek was a total pushover in real life. He had the spine of an invertebrate.

I yanked my arm out of Luke's flimsy grip. "Not even remotely possible."

"Bailey, don't be like this."

My heart wrenched. Be like what? Upset that he just blindsided me? Anyone in my position would be devastated.

"Let me drive you, at least."

"Thanks, but no thanks. You've done enough."

Seconds crawled by as I lingered in front of the table, wanting to leave but unable to make my body cooperate. My feet stayed firmly glued to the floor, stuck in some form of malignant denial. This couldn't actually be happening. This was Luke we were talking about, here. My Luke.

I studied his face, my eyes tracing the features that I knew better than my own. Dark blue eyes framed with thick lashes; strong jawline, cleft in his chin; and his strong Roman nose that was slightly crooked from a break in minor hockey. I always said it added character to his otherwise perfect face.

It was a face I'd woken up to. A friend who'd seen me at my worst. A lover who'd seen me at my most vulnerable.

But this person sitting before me was a stranger.

"You're still coming to the game tomorrow night, right?"

The sadness in my gut morphed into rage. Even now, he still wanted me as a groupie.

"You have got to be kidding." I snatched my purse off the chair beside me. "I'll be at the game, but only because of Derek. Not you. I'd cheer against you if I could."

*

The next morning, I perched at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee and a plate of food that I had zero interest in actually consuming. My stomach turned as I pushed the now-cold scrambled eggs around my plate, trying to muster up the will to eat.

According to the digital clock on the stove, it was quarter past eight, which meant I'd been sitting and staring at my food for nearly an hour. My mother always said a hearty breakfast was the way to start the day on the right foot, but no amount of food could fix what happened last night. Nothing could, short of a magic wand.

"Good morning!" My roommate Amelia breezed into the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffeepot. Clearly, her day was off to a far better start than mine. She was already dressed in a cropped pink sweater and distressed jeans, and her curly brown hair was woven into a thick braid. I was still unshowered, wearing ratty purple pajamas with my long hair in a tangled rats' nest. My skin was blotchy, eyes swollen, and heart empty.

The idea of being single again after a year and a half made me feel like I was adrift, lost at sea without a compass. I didn't know who I was without Luke. I didn't want to know.

With her back turned, Amelia poured herself a massive cup of French roast and went to the fridge, pulling out the vanilla creamer. "How was your birthday dinner last night?" She shut the fridge with her hip.

"Well—" I started to tell her what happened, but the words got stuck in my throat. "Not great."

Amelia laughed and spoon clinked as she stirred her coffee. "Why, Luke keep you up all night?"

It felt like being stabbed in the heart and the gut at the same time.

She spun around to face me, her dark chocolate eyes probing me from over the top of her pink mug. "You do look pretty tired."

Given that I'd been hit by the breakup bus, I was sure I looked more than tired. I probably looked like a troll.

"Uh, not exactly."

She took a sip of her coffee, raising her eyebrows. "Where is Luke, anyway? Is he still asleep?"

Another stab.

"He isn't here." He should have been, but he wasn't.

"Oh." Her forehead crinkled, mild confusion registering. "Did he have to train early this morning? I thought Paul said they didn't have dryland today."

"No," I said. "He dumped me."

Amelia froze with the petal-pink mug halfway to her mouth. "What?!" Her eyes snapped up to mine.

"Yup." I looked down at my plate and took a bite of soggy whole wheat toast, chewing slowly. Since the alternative to eating was discussing the breakup, my appetite had suddenly returned. Amelia stared at me, wide-eyed, waiting for me to continue. I wished I'd printed out a pamphlet I could distribute to everyone instead of having to relay every painful detail. A news bulletin, of sorts.

I swallowed and added, "He said we should take 'a break.' And then it turned into a breakup."

Part of me still didn't believe it was real, but another, bigger part of me knew it was.

"Sweetie." She set down her cup and walked around the island, sitting down on the stool next to me. Her eyes scanned my face with concern as she reached over, touching my arm gently. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine."

"What happened? I don't understand."

Neither did I, but that didn't seem to matter. And now I had to relive this horrible breakup conversation over and over again with all of my friends, my brother, as well as with my parents. Breaking the news, hearing their shocked reaction, and being on the receiving end of their awkward pity. I didn't want sympathy. I didn't want hugs. I just didn't want to talk about it—at all.

"We just grew apart, I guess."

"Still, you must be devastated. I feel terrible for you, B."

Amelia and I had lived together for over six months and got along fabulously, swapping clothes and sharing makeup, and binge-watching bad shows on Netflix. But we met because Paul and Luke played together which meant that her life, like mine, basically revolved around the team. Now she was looking at me with a mixture of shock and horror, more like you'd expect if someone had died.

Part of me wondered if her reaction was partly because she was secretly worried she and Paul would be next. Then I wondered if they would be next. Paul was a third-year with NHL aspirations, just like Luke. Maybe they all had a pact to dump their girlfriends and live it up for their last year of college.

Or maybe I was the only dead weight.

"Yeah, well... it happens." Avoiding her eyes, I grabbed my plate and pushed the stool away from the counter, standing up. "Anyway, I need to go shower and hit the library. I have an article to finish before the game tonight."

If I could manage to focus on writing right now. That part might be a stretch. Or it could be a good escape, locking myself away from reality and ignoring that my love life just imploded.

"You're still going to come?"

The question landed like a slap, even though I knew she didn't mean it that way.

"I have to," I said. "Derek would never forgive me if I suddenly started boycotting all their games."

Besides, I wasn't sure what I would do to fillmy time if I did.

And so it begins. Poor Bailey!

Hi everyone! Are you a first time reader? Re-reading? If you follow hockey, who do you cheer for? I'm in Alberta, Canada, and the Oilers are my team.

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