“Hey, Coach.”
Hawk bounded over to us, panting happily at the new potential playmate. Aiden looked down at him, then shyly looked at me through the dark fringe of lashes.
“You can pet him anytime he’s off-leash and playing.”
He dropped to a knee next to Hawk, talking to him and ruffling his fur. I pushed off, skating backwards away from the two. I needed distance, and if I didn’t get it, Iwoulddo something I shouldn’t.
TWENTY
AIDEN
He skated away that night, doing edge work and bag skates while I played with Hawk. I’ve spent every moment since trying to gather up the nerve to do what I went to the arena to do that night. Talk to him about our lousy situation.
There was a chicken coop somewhere with my name on it. Only I was so much of a chicken that the other chickens would never welcome me. Well, I was more of an ostrich-chicken hybrid—scared to death with my head stuck in the sand.
Because I hadn’t just been too chicken to talk with Alex about what happened between us, I’ve also avoided my roommates, as much as you can avoid three people you play hockey with.
Which meant I was still living out of the room at EDGE. And that was fine. Well, mostly fine. The noise from the club downstairs mostly petered out by the time you got to the top floor, where my room was.
Other than the noise, the room was great. I had the space to study and sleep, which was all I needed. I grabbed meals on campus, and for the times I needed to eat in the room, therestaurant next door came in clutch. I’d even picked up some snacks to keep here.
So, yeah. Half chicken, half ostrich. For days and days.
But avoidance wasn’t going to work today. We had a game. The first official game of the season. We were all required to report to the rink for team breakfast and morning skate. Then it would be lunchtime with the team, of course, followed by warm-ups and the game.
I wasn’t too worried about the game. We were playing a team that’d been together for ages with a coach who’d coached since before I was born, but their program was ranked so low compared to ours that everyone considered this a win, even though we still had hours before we took the ice. That mindset sucked, and destined to backfire, but as one of the new guys on the team, I didn’t want to rock the boat.
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand and sighed. Time to face all the people I was too much of a chicken ostrich…
Ostken?
Ostrichen?
Chiostrich?
Chostrich?
Chistrich?
I grabbed my gear and headed out of the club to my car as my head continued trying to make up a name. The name game continued until I pulled into my parking spot at the dorm.
I prayed from the car to the stairwell, down to the tunnel, that I wouldn’t run into Trey, Isaiah, or Isaac. Thankfully, this timeLady Luck didn’t forsake me. Every step of the way was free and clear. As I stepped into the room to drop my dry gear, the door to the lounge opened, and the mouth-watering aroma of food smacked me square in the face. Gnawing hunger turned ravenous, and I dumped the bag in the locker.
The lounge hopped like a nightclub on a Saturday night. Everyone milled about with plates of food, with the televisions on the wall in front of the sectional tuned to the sports network. I grabbed a plate and began filling it, thanking the culinary staff.
The nutritionist, Nicky Adom, smiled at me when I got to the end of the line. He checked in with us every few days to make sure the culinary staff were meeting our food needs and wants as much as possible.
“How’re you doing, Aiden?”
“I’m good. Starving.”
“When did you last eat?”
“Yesterday evening. Early.”
His mouth flattened, “You need to fuel your body for peak performance. You know this.”
I sighed. “I’ll do better.”
