Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
“Now what?”
“Ask me to dinner or something.”
I frowned. “Why? I don’t think I could sit at a restaurant with a boner this size for an hour without passing out.”
Sky threw his head back and laughed. “All right. Ask me to come over.”
“Okay. Wanna come over tonight?”
“I can’t. I’m busy.”
“How ’bout tomorrow?”
“No, sorry. That’s not good either.”
I crossed my arms and glared at him. “What are you doing?”
“I’m playing hard to get. It’s bad form to let a guy know you have an open calendar,” Sky replied, fluttering his eyelashes.
“Cool it. No games.”
Sky grinned like a madman. “Fine. Tomorrow night. Where do you live?”
I pulled out my cell and handed it to him. “Give me your number. I’ll text you my address.”
Sky obeyed before returning my phone. “There you go.”
“Cool. Now I can give it to Miss Smartypants.”
“Who’s that?” he asked with a laugh.
“The cute girl from our econ class. Long brown hair, glasses, knows the answer to every equation…”
“Kendra?”
“Yeah. I ran into her at a party Saturday night. She asked for your number.”
“Really? She asked me for yours a week ago.”
I figured the twinkle in his eyes meant he was joking, so I rolled my eyes, flipped my phone over, then yanked his chair hard and told him to pay attention. He kicked my shin in retaliation and leaned closer so some body part was in constant contact with mine. Sky chuckled at my exasperated huff and raised an eyebrow in challenge. Sure, I wanted to wrestle him to the floor or on top of the desk and kiss that smirk off his face, but I stayed strong and somehow managed to focus on the joys of accounting.
But damn, I couldn’t wait till tomorrow.
4
Patience was not my virtue. Especially when the following day was a glorified repeat of the last…pre-practice workout, practice, office, chill. The gym was easy enough. I put my earpods in and blasted some death metal music while I pumped weights. Then I headed to the rink, and everything went sideways from there.
I tuned out the conversation on the bench as I laced up my skates. It was the usual background noise that didn’t require invitation to join in. Today’s topics were video games, breakfast cereal, and a lighthearted discussion on masturbation. I chuckled at some stupid banter about the difference between using lube or hand lotion as I secured my helmet then slipped my gloves on.
“Dude, I never waste the good stuff on myself. It’s too expensive,” Ramirez said.
“You’re too damn cheap. Treat yourself,” Troy chided.
“Troy does…often,” I teased as I grabbed my stick.
“Like you don’t,” he huffed lamely. “Maybe now that you have a girlfriend you won’t have to.”
“Fischer has a girlfriend?” someone asked.
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
Troy ignored me. “She was at Schultz’s party last weekend. Did you see them together? I think you broke a few hearts. Schultz told someone he thinks you’ll take over as team captain and—”
I shook my head. “Nope. I’m not captain material. No way.”
“Sure, you are.” He turned to our teammates and raised his fist. “What d’ya guys say? Colby, Colby, Colby!”
And because timing was everything, Coach Beltram walked in.
Everyone went quiet as he cast a cool look around the cramped locker room, settling his gaze on Troy and then me.
“Good morning, gentlemen. Thank you for taking care of that line of business. Congratulations, Fischer. The job is yours.” Coach barked a command for everyone to get their asses on the ice. He called my name before I made it to the exit and lowered his voice. “Hey, heads up, I have a feeling Schultz will be back. This can be a temporary gig if you hate it, or you can co-captain if you want and if he’s interested. Your decision. Let’s go.”
He clapped a couple of times and headed for the door, leaving me frozen like a deer in headlights. Team captain? Fuck. I didn’t want that kind of responsibility. And what did he mean by “Schultz will be back”? Sounded ominous. Like something else to add to my ever-growing list of shit to worry about.
“Hey, wait up, Fischer!” Troy hurried after me, gliding around the orange cones staggered near the entrance to the gate.
I skated backward and waved to one of the assistant coaches before motioning for Troy to talk. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry about the captain stuff, man.”
“Yeah, you suck. That’s the last thing I want to do.”
“I didn’t know Coach was there. And I’m kinda surprised he didn’t leave it alone so Schultz could come back.”
“Why would he come back? He’s playing for the fucking Kings.”
“Something went down yesterday. I think they opted not to sign him.”
I skidded to a stop. “Seriously?”
“Yeah. His agent is still haggling, but he needs ice time and it looks better if he’s in school, I guess, so he’s coming back soon,” Troy said as he made a quick loop around me. “Beware.”