Of course, the first time any game is played, people might stumble or make a couple of mistakes. Sometimes they’ll play it safe, never stand too close to the edge. The path a player chooses depends on the stakes and their personality. Often there are too many variables, which makes it difficult to predict their next move.
But there will always be a single certainty. A guarantee. Regardless of whether they’re a brute, or they hold the delicacy of the finest flower, they’ll eventually head down the same path and become the same thing: sloppy.
It’s unintentional, usually from either cockiness, laziness, or general comfort. But a great playerchooseswhen to be cocky. Atthe end of the day, they know it’s not just about the cards they have on the table, but how they put them down.
I have yet to work out which category my shadow falls under.
Jack Norton’s voice echoes somewhere behind me. My jaw tics.Fucking prick.There’s nothingaccidentalabout anything the asshole does, despite how hard he tries to play dumb. I speed up my pace to my car, but the piece of shit clamps a hand on my shoulder, fucking up my getaway.
“What the hell was that about, man?”
I whirl to face him, throwing his hand off me. But I say nothing. I’m on thin ice as it is, and the last thing I need is more witnesses to my short fuse that’s going to force his dad to kick me off the team.
“I was in the zone,” I answer through gritted teeth, in case we have an audience that can hear.
He’s playing dumb. Jack knows exactly what he’s done. He knowspreciselywhy I’ve been at his throat for the past couple of months. Tonight is no exception.
If he refuses to heed my warning and stay away from her, this is his fate.
Ever since we were young, he’s acted like this and needled his way into places and relationships where he wasn’t wanted.
He’s wearing his signature, pretentious, I’ve-done-nothing-wronglook, and it’s only tolerable because of the gash I left on his cheek earlier. Pity I didn’t hit a major artery. Nothing would make me happier than reading his obituary.
Jack, the future fucking corpse, tries reaching for me again. A couple of the guys catch up to us before I can shove his head through the nearest window—maybe then I’ll finally hit an important organ. It’d be such a shame if he died from it.
My eyes narrow on him, and I imagine hearing a choir of angels sing as his decrepit soul gets yanked from his body.Maybe tonight’s the night that I finally accidentally follow him home and run him over—a couple of times for good measure.
I’d sleep like a baby for once. Wouldn’t that be nice.
But I’ll get more than just kicked off the team if I kill him.
Pity.
My teammates are lucky I’m in a half-decent mood. One part fury, one part caged.
I have big plans later. People to meet. Promises to fulfill. Shit infinitely more important than breathing the same air as the assholes in front of me.
“Drinks at mine tonight?” Simon asks, a dopey smile beaming across his insufferable face. A monkey clangs cymbals together behind his eyes. He’s completely unaware of what he just walked into.
I’m surprised whenever he forms a full sentence. His two barely functioning brain cells are constantly fighting for third place. He has talent on the ice, but that’s all he’s got.
Jack and Calvin nod in agreement, then Dumb and Dumber turn to me with their leader edging uncomfortably close, invading every matter of personal space I have—aether included.
Pass.“Fine.”
Watching paint dry would be more enjoyable. For someone who earns a living playing a team sport, I’d often rather gouge my eyes out than be amongst said team. My eardrums threaten to burst every time I’m at a game, and I’m surrounded by men with below-average hygiene on a daily basis.
The last thing I want to do is go to a place where everyone will be loud, sweaty, and insist on encroaching on my personal space.
Unfortunately, the wholeteampart requires my occasional attendance every couple of weeks, since I need to maintain trust amongst us with my less-than-sunny demeanor. I’m also too new to be pissing every person off, although it’s a path I’vealready headed down, and where I currently stand, they’ll all quickly hate me the moment Jack says so.
My attitude and personality aren’t helping my case. I’ve always been one to stay silent and keep to myself, but Jack and his antics bring out the worst in me. I can’t help it.
No one likes how I treat Jack, and I’ve lost too many brownie points to feel secure in my position. I try to keep it in, but he makes my goddamn eye twitch.
So I have no choice but to force myself to attend these events that make me question whether my career is worth it. The alternative is getting traded again, and right now, that’s the last thing I want.
One of the guys hoots—I don’t care to figure out which one—as I head to my car. But I can hazard a guess.
