The Fifteenth Minute: A Hockey Romance (The Ivy Years Book 5)
The Fifteenth Minute: A Hockey Romance: Chapter 27

DJ

I THOUGHT I’d be a wreck the night before the big meeting. To my surprise, I’m really not. What I am is ready for this to be over. Whatever happens, I can take it. I just want to know.

It’s after eight, and I’m sitting on the couch in the living room of Orsen’s house. Leo showed up a couple of hours ago with Chinese food. Now the two of us are sitting in front of a basketball game that neither of us is very invested in.

His phone rings, and he answers it. “Hey babe. I’m hanging with DJ.” There’s a pause while he listens. “That’s not a great idea. I’ll catch you tomorrow, okay? Night.”

Thank God he didn’t invite Amy over. If this is my last night at Harkness, so be it. But I don’t need her to be part of it. Leo hasn’t said much tonight. He’s just here for me. He’s appointed himself my keeper for the night. For once I’m comforted instead of annoyed.

We stare at the game a little longer, but when it goes to the ten-millionth commercial break, Leo mutes it and tosses the remote onto the coffee table. “I’d get you drunk tonight,” he says, “but I don’t think the hungover look is what your lawyer wants for tomorrow.” Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Chuckling, I try to picture that. “Good point.”

“You need anything, though?”

I shake my head. “I just want it over. This has been a really long year.”

“No kidding.” We’re quiet for a second, and then he says, “I think it’s going to be okay.”

“Why?”

“I just do,” my brother says.

“Hope you’re right. But even if you’re not, I just want an answer. I’m so sick of wondering what’s coming. I followed all their weird little rules. I haven’t been inside the gates of a House or in any of the Houses’ dining halls. I was so careful, because I’d do anything to prove I was a good guy. And the shitty thing? There’s no way they’ve noticed.”

“Right?” my brother agrees.

“Made me feel like a criminal every day, too. Hey—remember that guy who worked at the drug store across from the middle school? He’d follow us around when we went in to buy candy after school.”

“The creepy dude with the mustache?”

“Yeah, him. I never stole a thing from that shop, but he made me feel like a delinquent anyway. That’s how this year has been. Times a million.”

“Sorry, man.”

“I know.” The game comes back on, but I don’t feel like watching it. “I think I need to get out of here. Maybe go for a run.”

“Okay.” Leo stands up. “I’ll do a lap around campus with you. Then I’m going to go pack for my trip.” Leo is going away with Amy for three days before he has to come back for hockey.

I put on my shoes and a fleece vest, and we head outside. We take off down the street at an easy pace, running in and out of the streetlights’ pooling glow. Leo tells me his itinerary—three days on a beach. “Don’t forget your sunscreen,” I say. “You don’t want to burn your white ass before playoffs.” Leo and the rest of the family are paler than I am. Whoever my father was, he tanned easily.

“Thanks for the tip.”

We run on, past fraternity row, which is lively tonight. People are celebrating the coming break. We loop around Science Hill and then head back toward campus. The Houses come into view one by one, yellow lights shining from their decorative old windows. Beaumont House is the prettiest of them all. One of those lights is Lianne’s, probably. When our route takes us past the Beaumont gate, my feet stop, unbidden.

Leo circles around to where I’m standing in front of the gate, peering inside. “D?” he asks.

I just point inside. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He doesn’t try to talk me out of it. He just nods and runs off down the street, toward his own House.

From inside, a student walks toward the gate, backpack over his shoulder. On his way out, he lets me in without a second glance. That’s how it always works. A student’s ID only opens his own House gate, but we let each other in all day long. It’s just the easy trust that one student gives to another without thinking too hard about it. I used to take that for granted.

I don’t even know if my ID opens Trindle gate this year. I never checked.

Lianne’s room number is 317. I had to look it up when I sent the T-shirt over with Corey Callihan. So it’s easy to find her entryway. And luck is with me, because someone’s coming down the stairs and opening the door.

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