I blow out a breath, hating that yet again I’m the focus of everyone’s jokes.
Fantastic.
Hopefully this will all blow over when Erik realizes that I’m never going to see Laura again…wait. Scratch that. Iwillsee her again. She’s in my English Lit class, and even though we both loveThe Princess Bride,there’s no way we’re going to end up besties after this.
“You know what?” Cade says with one eyebrow raised. “Maybe Erik has a point. If Scotty was really willing to lose the Hockey Fun Run just to talk to her, maybe this is something we need to discuss.”
“That’s not why he lost,” Erik insists with a bark of laughter.
“It's exactly why he lost,” Dash fires back. “Scotty’s too damn good to fall short.”
I take Dash’s words as a compliment. Maybe I am proving myself here, albeit slowly with Erik on my case.
“I tripped,” I mutter.
“Into fate. Face first.” Erik grins, his eyebrows waggling, but then he thinks about it. “Actually, more like dick-first, since you slapped her in the face.”
Brooks coughs to hide a laugh. “Wait, that part of the rumor is true? I thought you just accidentally pulled her in.”
“I didn't—” I start, then sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. “Yes. No. Technically. But it wasn't intentional.”
Even Dash can't hide his amusement, and that guy’s about as expressive as a granite countertop. “Dude.”
“Dudeis right,” Erik says triumphantly. “Our boy really went full frontal on the only girl who doesn’t want an encore.”
“Okay, that's enough.” I stand and start pacing, hating how just like when I’m on my Dad’s show, my every move is being dissected. “It was an accident.”
Erik holds up his hands. “I'm just saying, what are the odds? The universe clearly wants you to bang this girl.”
“No. The universe clearly wants me in prison,” I mutter.
“Stop,” Dash says louder. “This isn’t our business. Being a brotherhood doesn’t mean messing with each other’s love lives.”
“Yeah,” Alex drawls, taking a huge bite of toast as though he’s narrating my downfall on the Food Network. “Let’s just let Scotty get over one of the most humiliating moments of his life. Honestly, it’s almost as bad as that episode where he ripped his pants doing a victory spin after being crowned Homecoming King.”
Again,Alex? Seriously, the man offers the emotional support of a car alarm. He knows I hate talking about the show but often talks about my high school experiences like he was living it right alongside me.
That’s the worst part about being ‘famous.’
These people grew up with me; I just didn’t grow up with them.
“Butthat's exactly why it's a crisis,” Erik insists. “We need a plan.” He rubs his hands together. Why do I feel like anything he plans will destroy any chance I have of talking to Laura ever again?
“No, we don’t.” I can’t do this anymore. I can’t argue with my teammates over this. “I’m going to get some air,” I say, grabbing my jacket and ignoring all eye contact with Erik—just in case he takes it as a sign I want him to join. “You guys can stay here and continue plotting my social demise if that’s really what gets you going, but just FYI, I’m not going to implement any of it.”
When I’m out in the hallway, the freedom I feel is short-lived, because I can already hear the other team members walking down the hall.
I take a deep breath, staring down at my shoes, mentally preparing myself to smile so I can get out of here with as few questions as possible. I stride down the hallway, making a beeline for the stairs. Before I get there, I’ve high-fived six different guys and had a conversation about my choice of hairstyle in season three of my dad’s show.
I don’t even know these people’s names. They aren’t on my line, and most of them won’t make the roster, but I play along anyway and smile. If I don’t, someone will go on social media and talk about the experience.
No. I’m the nice guy…just like my dad.
When I’m down the stairs and through the lobby doors, I take a deep breath, desperate for some air that doesn’t smell like hockey pucks, over-hyped confidence, and everyone else’s expectations.
It’s still hard to find.
What with the girls sitting on the bench opposite the building, watching me with their phones up, directly aimed at me.
