TRICK PLAY
VERONICA EDEN
A FAKE DATING HOCKEY ROMANCE
ONE
LAINEY
Campus buzzesnonstop about last night’s hockey game. Everywhere I go, it’s all I hear. The only thing people want to talk about is how great Theo and Alex’s winning goals were.
Heston University—no, the entire town of Heston Lake itself—is obsessed with our ice hockey team. Whenever they play, my picturesque New England academic haven turns into the equivalent of a sports bar, like the one my dad owns in town.
I could ignore this transformation if it wasn’t my twin brother and his best friend that everyone is so hung up on after a stellar season last year. They’ve garnered the town’s obsession as the only two freshmen to earn starting positions and help take Heston all the way to the national championship.
My early acceptance to Heston University came first based on the merit of my good grades and hard work. Theo’s came because Heston scouted him for the team, stealing my thunder and my chance to shine on my own instead of living in the shadow of my superstar athlete twin.
Guess which one of us Dad’s more proud of? It’s not my photo plastered all over his sports bar.
“For real, though,” a girl gushes ahead of me on the snow-lined path to her friend. “It was insanely hot when Alex Kellertook that final shot Theo Boucher passed to him. It does things to my body seeing them all aggressive on the ice, whipping those sticks around. Are you going to the party at the hockey house tomorrow night after the game?”
“Dibs on Theo,” her friend replies in a saucy tone. “He can body check me right into his bed.”
Oh god,no. Nope. I can’t.
Pressing my lips together in a firm line, I scurry past them with my head down, automatically lifting a hand to adjust my glasses. Strands of long dark blonde hair fall forward to frame my face as a terrible vision of my life flashes before my eyes. I still have two more years of coping with the damn hockey season and suffering through people thirsting for my brother until I finish my degree.
The unpleasant mental image gives me the urge to drop what I’m doing, walk down to The Landmark, and hide behind Dad’s bar snuggled up to Hammy. The white and tan eighty pound pitbull is the locals’ favorite bar dog, but to me he’s always been my emotional support and safety blanket after Mom left us when Theo and I were sophomores in high school.
The kicker? She dumped Dad for a hockey player in the AHL she’d been having an affair with.
Everyone in Heston Lake lives and breathes hockey.
Me? I hate hockey and I can’t stand hockey players. As far as I’m concerned, the hockey season can’t end soon enough.
I’m so lost in my agitated thoughts that I almost walk into another group of students crowding the wide path. Adjusting the bundle of books and flyers in my arms, I cast the fresh snow a dour look. If the early February storm hadn’t blown through last night, I could’ve cut across the grass.
The three guys I almost ran into don’t notice me, carrying on their conversation. “But did you see that freshman’s crazy assist? That Blake kid’s skating is unreal.”
“He’ll go pro. No doubt.”
Great. More hockey.
“Wait, that’s one of them isn’t it? Blake!”
At the call of his name, a tall boy with messy brown hair and his friend pause nearby. They both have bulky dark blue gym bags slung over their shoulders with Heston U Hockey embroidered on them. If their warm up jackets weren’t a beacon of who they are on campus, the recognizable bags would have given them away.
“You’re Easton Blake, right?”
Easton shoots the trio of guys a roguish smile full of confidence and pride. His friend smacks his shoulder playfully with the back of his hand, grinning like an idiot. He adjusts his backwards baseball hat and steers Easton in the direction of the arena.
Uninterested, I seize the opportunity to slip by the group while they’re distracted. I have so much to do for the event I’m planning to support the small family-owned bookstore I work at. There are only a few weeks left and my to-do list isn’t getting shorter.
Hanging the flyers I’m balancing with the rest of my stuff is the top priority on the list today. I bite my lip. Before I can accomplish the task, I need to gather the courage to hang them. I’m much happier staying hidden between the shelves of the shop. I don’t even handle the customers most days, leaving that to Mr. Derby and his daughter.
Putting myself out there and inviting people to see what I’m passionate about isn’t something I’m used to.
I keep telling myself to suck it up, because this event I’m organizing is too important. Without the college and the town’s help, the bookstore faces a corporate buyout from a chain brand. If that happens, it will undermine generations of one of Heston Lake’s staples.
