At that very moment, looking like an absolute wet dream, the thing I wanted more than anything a few days ago appears. He’s wearing one of those damn tight polos again. And that ass trapped inside the chinos that he definitely paints on. He’s so … beefy and bite-able. Not a snack. A whole freaking smorgasbord. Huh. Maybe the need pulsing under my skin, driving me to see him, isn’t that complicated.
Hopefully unaware of my perving, Brady notices him the same time I do, nods in his direction and quickly stands. “Sorry to rush off in the middle of a D&M but I better go. I’m supposed to be meeting James and Faith. Remember what I said, Cub. If you want some company, give us a call.”
Oh, I want some company alright. But I don’t think it’s the kind my team’s goalie coach is offering.
I watch him break into a light jog that with his long legs allows him to catch James in a few strides. They shake hands, then Brady glances over his shoulder and waves. James’ gaze follows, like so many others on campus he doesn’t acknowledge me, but looks straight through me.
Utterly lost and confused,I lean into the student I sat beside in a few classes last year, and whisper, “Sarah, do you have any idea what he’s talking about?”
Despite the fact that Sarah Appleblum from Mayfield, Wisconsin, and her friends, also regularly attend training, she glares at me like she’s never seen me before. Then confirms it. “Do I know you?”
“Sarah it’s me. Cory Malkovich. We had multiple classes together last year. I play hockey.”
“Oh, yeah, Conan, right. Um. Professor Sharpener is explaining that there’s evidence to support the theory that organelles were once free-living prokaryotes and ….”
On and on she goes about prokaryotic cells and eukaryotic cells until I regret asking. I have no freaking clue what any of it means.
I have to pull my head from my ass and study. But when?
As always, I slip out of bio a little early, and run to practice, ensuring I’m the first one there. It’s part routine, part need to de-dork before the boys arrive.
No matter what Brady Basse with his surfer dude good looks believes, being yourself isn’t easy for everyone. I learned quickly in my first year on the team that me as ‘me’ doesn’t fit in the hockey world. Should I be a goalie like him, my quirkiness would be expected, welcomed even. But I’m not. I’m a winger, the rock stars of hockey, and for us it’s all about chirping, flows and bunnies.
Well, it’s supposed to be anyway.
Squinting in the mirror, I’ve just finished popping in my contacts when booming laughter echoes outside the locker room. Perfect timing. I quickly pack everything up, making a note to refill my contact lens prescription, and am back at my locker changing when the hairs on the back of my neck raise.
“Why do you have to be such a dick all the time? Give me my stuff, you ass.” Seconds later, a kit bag whizzes by the back of my head, landing with a thud at my feet. Without looking I know that voice was Lucas, second shortest and the youngest on the team,andwho he’s cussing at, Trent Hoffman.
I met his big brother, Connor, who already plays for the Mounties, at training camp. Unlike his little bro, Connor seemed like a really solid guy. Talented too. Last season, Trent was a fourth line with little ice time, something he’s desperate to change. As such, he spent his summer improving his edge work and bulking up, but his attitude is the thing that needs the most improvement. The guy’s a spoiled, rich bully, and in the time that I’ve been back, Lucas has been his frequent target.
That ends today.
When Trent finally saunters in, he spots me and that frat-boy stupid smile fades. “Captain.” He nods.
My forced smile back pains my cheeks. “Nice to see you helping out your fellow teammates with their things, Hoffman. I’ll let Coach know. He’s always looking for volunteers for cleanup.” While Trent grumbles under his breath, I turn to Lucas and drop my voice. “Let me know if this continues. He would never pull this shit with Noah and Shane around, and he won’t with me either.”
Lucas blushes and runs his hand through his thick, dead-straight locks. “Thanks, Cap. Us little guys have to stick together, hey.”
I want to enforce that height is not the reason I’m doing this, because neither of us arelittle. But then I notice his puffed chest, and that he’s standing taller, and if having me in his corner gives him that, then great. So, instead of being defensive, I do what Noah would have done, I offer the stock standard fist bump and continue getting dressed.
The second CoachHarris strides out onto the ice I know practice is going to be brutal. Dude straight up looks like someone pissed in his coffee.
“Right, before we get started on what will be a painful day.” Called it. “We need to have a little chat.” A chorus of groans is quickly snuffed out by Professor Plum’s appearance.
“Afternoon all.” She smiles.
Preening, the guys chant, “Afternoon Professor,” like kindergartners, which seems to piss Coach off even more. He’s working his gum so hard I think his jaw might break.
“I’ve had a call from the manager of Balls’up, the pool hall over on Cambridge Street.” In my periphery I spot a few of the boys sliding to the back of the pack. “Seems a few idiots while wearing BC hockey hoodies, decided to have a little drunken dance-off last night … on three of their brand new, three thousand dollar pool tables.”
Fuck.
“Now, I’ve been in this business a long time. I know what it’s like to be young, dumb and full of …” he pauses. “…at the top of your game. To think you’re bullet proof. That your talent makes you untouchable. Well guess what? You’re not and it doesn’t. None of you are immune to the consequences of your actions. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I am not here to only produce great hockey players. I want to produce great men.”
“Which is where I come in.” Plum nods to Coach, who hands her the clipboard he’s been white-knuckling. “Would any one care to take responsibility?” No one does, of course. It’s disappointing, but like me, Plum and Coach don’t seem surprised. “Right, you are all old enough to know the dangers of drinking to excess, especially for young athletes, so I’m not going to lecture you on that right now. But we will be running some drug and alcohol education sessions next week. In the mean time, if anyone would like to come and speak to me in private, my door is always open.”
“What? That’s it?” Lucas asks. “No punishment. No bag skates?”
