“Alright.” He doesn’t argue. He already did what he came here to do. Tell me how he was a better player than I’ll ever be. “Tell Brinley I say hi.”
“Will do, Dad.”
I watch as he heads up the stairs, and before he’s even out the door, he’s already on his phone. I grab my things and head to the locker room to shower. The scolding water feels good against my skin, relieving the tension in my muscles.
The built-up sweat and grime circle the drain, and my dad’s words go down with it.
Because when it comes down to it, I might play this gamebecauseof him, but I don’t play itforhim.
Dad was wrong about the party.
The house is quiet when I get home. Well, quiet for us. It’s hard for a house to be completely quiet with six tense and horny hockey players.
I drop my keys on the entry table and notice two of my five roommates on the couch playingNHL 17since, apparently, we don’t play enough hockey.
“Ah, the golden boy is home,” Zeke says smugly, his eyes glued to the tv. “Let me guess, you stuck around to get a few more laps in so you could one-up the rest of your teammates?”
I’ve known all of these guys since I was about eight years old, so I’m surprised that Zeke is home out of all of them.
On most occasions, Zeke has his tongue down someone’s throat. Never the same girl twice, though, because he can’t risk them getting attached.
And even though he’s probably fucked most of the girls on campus, we all know the Zeke they never will, the one who puts his mom above all else:
With his mom in and out of remission, he has to get his tension out somehow. And since the season doesn’t start for another six weeks, he puts all his energy into his second favorite activity—sex.
“I don’t need more practice to one-up you guys,” I joke as his eyes leave the screen long enough to chug the rest of his beer. “I’ve been doing it for years, and it’s pretty easy at this point.”
“Oh, alright, tough guy.” Jaxon rolls his eyes. Even though all of these guys are the closest friends I’ve ever had, Jaxon ‘Jax’ Holmes is probably my best friend.
“There’s a surprise for you in the kitchen,” Zeke says, not allowing me to ask where the rest of our roommates are.
My eyebrows knit together as I head toward the kitchen. Then as the realization hits, I pray it’s not another hooker. Which is a story all on its own. But when I turn the corner, I see my baby sister sitting at the island, snacking on a bag of chips and writing in her notebook.
“Hey, big brother.” She throws another chip in her mouth. I wait for the crunchingto die down before I speak.
“Brin, what did I say about calling before you stop by?”
“That I should do it as a common courtesy. You never said I haveto.”
I shake my head, dropping my stuff against the wall before entering the kitchen. I don’t mind Brinley coming over whenever she feels like it, as long as I’m home and she’s not invading anyone else's space.
“How long has she been here?” I wonder.
“Since we got home from practice,” Jax replies.
“Brin, what if I didn’t come home tonight? What would you have done?”
“Stayed in your room,” she responds like it’s obvious.
However, knowing I’d be home tonight isn’t hard. She knows I only have one focus, and it's hockey. If I’m not in class, I’m on the ice. If I’m not on the ice, I’m here.
“I love these guys like brothers, but I don’t want you staying in a house alone with any of them.”
“It’s not like I’m interested in Zeke.” She eyes him, the pure look of disgust taking over her face.
“Hey, he saidanyof us,” Zeke argues; he turns around to face us, allowing Jax the perfect opportunity to score. “Fuck.”
“Never take your head out of the game,” Jax mocks while Brinley says, “We all knew who he was talking about.”
