By the time the grill was hot and the coolers full, the first handful of guests began to arrive. It wasn't a massive crowd—more like the inner circle. About half the hockey team showed up, all loud and easygoing, with a handful of girls scattered among them—either girlfriends, friends, or "interested parties," as Mason once joked.
Chris leaned against the side of the porch with a soda in hand, watching the others file in through the gate. Towels slung over shoulders, tank tops, sunglasses, and flip-flops everywhere. A few were already shirtless, despite the early hour.
"Yo! No way. Captain actually showed up," one of the guys said.
"I thought for sure he'd ghost us again," another added.
"Didn't you say he only exists on ice and in garages?" a third joked.
They gathered around like they'd spotted a rare animal.
"What kind of guy do you all think I am?" Chris snorted.
"The devil. Yeah. Definitely," they said in unison, nodding in exaggerated seriousness.
Chris rolled his eyes, then grinned sharply.
"Come here, you little shits."
He lunged suddenly, grabbing the nearest guy—Ethan—and slung him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. There was a half-second of laughing panic before Chris dumped him into the pool with a loud splash.
The others cheered. Ethan surfaced, cursing and laughing. The party had officially begun.
The backyard buzzed with movement and laughter. A few teammates had started stacking pool chairs into a makeshift diving platform, which looked dangerously unstable.
Chris stood by the grill, one hand on the tongs, keeping a side-eye on the chair-stacking madness.
"If you break your neck, I'm not dragging your ass to the hospital," he said deadpan.
"Then at least record it for the highlight reel!" Ethan called back, adding a third chair.
Just as someone cannonballed into the pool—nearly wiping out half the volleyball team—the front gate creaked open.
"They're here!" Mason said, practically sprinting toward the entrance.
He bolted forward like an overexcited golden retriever—despite being six-foot-three and built like a bouncer.
"What are you, five?" Amber laughed as he approached.
He didn't even deny it—just swept her into a half-lift hug like it was the most natural thing in the world. The others whistled and catcalled. Mason flipped them off with a grin, still clutching Amber.
Jade entered right behind her. Sunglasses on. Sundress swaying just enough to say "I made an effort, but I'm chill." Her lips curled into a slow, predatory grin as her gaze landed on Chris at the grill.
"And so it begins…" Claire muttered.
"Hmm?" Jade hummed innocently.
"Nothing. Just… noticing how you're aiming those stilettos straight at the grill."
"It's called strategy, Claire. You should try it sometime."
Claire laughed but didn't argue.
Jade sauntered over, her hair catching the sunlight just right, arriving just as Chris was plating burgers. He glanced up—briefly—and gave her a small nod.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself. Smells good."
"Yeah, Mason's mom prepped the food for us."
Jade waited—for a compliment, maybe a glance. Nothing.
She leaned a little closer.
"So. You cooking all day, or do you play too?"
"Depends. Someone's gotta keep these guys from dying. On that note—pass me that ball over there?" Chris nodded toward a ball a few meters away.
Jade, caught slightly off guard, picked it up and handed it to him.
Chris took the ball. A devilish smile crept onto his face. If his eyes weren't covered by those round sunglasses, it might've looked downright terrifying.
"Hey Ethan! Gravity called," Chris shouted toward the guy still trying to balance on the makeshift chair tower.
"Who?" Ethan shouted back, not looking—concentration fully on not falling.
"Says you're an idiot," Chris added.
"What?" Ethan turned, slightly offended—
—and got nailed square in the face with the ball.
The chair-stack crumbled. Splash.
The yard erupted in laughter. Ethan surfaced, looking utterly betrayed, and began to sulk in mock outrage.
Jade laughed—maybe a little too loudly—tucking her hair behind her ear, eyes still on Chris.
But Chris was already turning back to flip the burgers.
"You should go change, no?" he asked, not even looking her way.
Jade smiled slyly. "Eager to see me in a swimsuit already?"
Chris turned toward her, voice neutral. "Claire hates getting her normal clothes wet, so I figured it's a girl thing."
Jade's smile froze.
Astonished.
He didn't even flinch.
"This guy's like trying to flirt with a boulder," she muttered as she followed Amber and Claire into the house to change.
"Welcome to the challenge," Amber joked.
"You're just warming up. Don't give up now. It's adorable," Claire grinned.
"Adorable? Girl, I'm bringing out the arsenal next," Jade declared, flipping her hair dramatically.
As they entered the house, Jade muttered to no one in particular, "Anyway… he's different today. Playful?"
A guy passing by stopped and said, "Who—Captain? This is normal. This is his 'among-friends' mode."
Jade grabbed him by the shoulder. "Wait, what do you mean?"
The guy blinked, surprised by the sudden intensity. "Uh… well, the Captain gets hyper-focused on stuff. He's the devil at practice, like a general during matches. But if there's no game or no training, he just chills like this."
"Mm-hm. Thanks." Jade let him go.
She turned sharply toward Claire and glared.
"You watched me suffer for two whole weeks—knowing full well he didn't even see me as more than, like… a tree or something?!"
Claire averted her gaze, knocked lightly on her head with her fist, and said, "Tehehe… I forgot."
"You bitch…" Jade muttered, utterly defeated.
Amber and Claire exchanged a glance—then burst out laughing.