Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 681(@200wpm)___ 545(@250wpm)___ 454(@300wpm)
“You all right, man? You seem . . . tense tonight.”
“Just having an off game.” I can feel him looking at me, but I keep my eyes on the ice.
“You wanna run some drills tomorrow afternoon? Just you and me? Maybe we can grab a bite or something?”
“Why? My sister busy or something?” Fuck. I’m being a dick.
That conversation with BJ comes back to me. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m the one making this harder on both of us. I turn to Kody before he has a chance to call me out. “Sorry. I’m in a mood. Yeah, sure, we can run some drills tomorrow afternoon.”
“We could also grab something to eat after the game, if you want? I haven’t seen much of you outside of practice and games. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine. Just trying not to fail my classes and get through exams, you know? And yeah, a bite to eat after the game would be good.”
“Just keep it low-key? You and me?” He motions between us.
“Like a date?” I arch an eyebrow.
He grins, and then his expression sobers. “I kinda thought you were pissed at me.”
I clap him on the shoulder, not wanting to put my shit on him. “I’m not pissed at you, just trying to figure this whole dynamic out, you know? It was you and me and the guys for three years. It sort of feels like shared custody now that you and Lavender are a thing.”
“It’s good the holidays are coming up. We’ll have a break from all this.” He motions to the ice. “And we’ll have more time to hang out.”
The refs blow the whistle, and Kody and I rush back out onto the ice for the faceoff. He’s center, and I’m left wing.
Russo, the player across from me, taps the end of my stick with his. He gives me one of those chin tips. “First time on the new skates, Waters?”
“Fuck off,” I snap.
“Must suck when even the rookie players are better than you,” he goads.
The puck drops, and because I’m distracted, I miss the pass, and he steals the puck, shouldering me out of the way and racing down the ice.
I’m a second behind him, but the mistake has already been made, and I need to get the puck back into our team’s hands. I panic and make a bad play, my stick sliding between his legs. He goes down, and they blow the whistle, giving me a two-minute penalty for tripping.
The next time we’re on the ice together, he makes another comment about my shitty playing and shoulder-checks me. I shove him back, and he spins around, getting in my face, calling on the refs to give me another two minutes. And like an idiot, I give them a reason because I haul off and punch him.
It isn’t until I’m sitting in the box again that I notice my dad four rows up at center ice. “Fuck,” I mutter, and he cocks a brow at me.
He does this sometimes, showing up at a game without telling me. And of course there’s a scout from Nashville here, too. As if I need the added pressure.
We end up winning by one goal, thanks to Kody.
“You still want me to hang around since your dad is here?” he asks when we’re back in the locker room.
“Nah. It’s cool. You don’t need to see my dad rip into me about my shitty performance tonight.” I blow out a breath. “And I really need to stop channeling my inner Eeyore.”
He gives me a sympathetic look. “We all have off nights. He knows you usually play cleaner than this. And Russo was being a dick the entire game.”
Quinn stops as he passes us and claps me on the shoulder. “Russo deserves more than a shot in the face.”
“Still. I know better than to play with my fists. If there’s a lecture coming, I kinda deserve it.”
“We all know better, but when someone’s grinding you like he was, it’s hard not to react.” He turns to Kody. “Whose bed you sleeping in tonight?”
Kody’s cheeks flush. “Uh, probably not mine.”
Quinn’s gaze shifts from me to Kody and he smirks. “See you both at practice tomorrow, then. And don’t beat yourself up too much, Waters, the pressure can be a lot to handle.”
“Thanks, man.” I know he’s trying to be helpful, but he’s not looking to make the pros, and that’s been the goal my entire life.
Kody turns back to me after Quinn leaves and clears his throat. “We’ll still run drills tomorrow afternoon? And we can go for dinner after that.”
“Sounds good.”
He heads for the showers, even though he’ll take another one as soon as he’s home. I take off my gear, not paying much attention to the conversations going on around me.
“There’s a party going on at Deever’s. I vote we go. One of the sororities is there.” A freshman holds out his phone, showing our teammates a video clip of two girls doing keg stands. “Waters, you wanna come?” He gives me a nod.