“I’m just saying, a guy should feel comfortable enough to sleep with someone in his house.”
“Which is why you have abedroom.” I roll my eyes.
“What if we had gotten carried away, though, and it happened onthe couch?”
“And what if you stopped asking hypotheticals and got over the fact the guys threw a party.”
“It’s not the party.” He shakes his head. “I mean, it is, but it isn’t.”
“Okay.” I sigh. “I obviously won’t be able to get anything done with you pouting, so what’s up?”
“Nothing’s up.”
I close my laptop and cross my arms.
“I might not know everything about you, but I can tell you’re upset. What’s going on? Did something happen during your free skate?”
Part of me is surprised that I knew that’s where he was before we met up while everyone else was at the football game. But I feel like I can blame his freshly washed hair as to why I knew where he was. And Brinley wasn’t lying the other day when she said hair fresh out of the shower was something else.
“My dad came by.” He shrugs.
I’ve never met the man, but I don’t like him.
“Oh.”
“He likes to check up on me,” he continues. “My dad, he played hockey.”
I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything personal about Declan… that came from Declan. Usually, it’s stuff I hear around campus or from Brinley.
“He was great, and he’ll tell you that any chance he gets. But he got hurt and couldn’t play anymore, so when he found out he was having me,” he pauses, “let’s just say he found a new way to live out his dream.”
“That’s why he comes to see you all the time? To make sure you’re living up to his name?”
That’s messed up. I couldn’t imagine having all this pressure on you from your parents. I thought having a mom who liked to pretend I didn’t exist was rough.
“I mean, he hadn’t even been drafted when he got hurt in college, buthe’sthe better player?!”
“Sounds like an ass.”
He shrugs.
“What about your mom?”
“She was never a huge fan of me playing hockey,” he says. “She saw what it did to my dad. I mean, it almost killed him. That game, it could’ve been the end for him.”
“But she still let you play?”
“My dad is very persuasive.”
I study Declan. I know he loves hockey; I can see it in how he skates, but I no longer know if he likes it for the right reasons.
“What did he say to you?”
“The usual,” he mumbles. “How I’ll never be as good as he was. How I don’t care about hockey the way he did. How all the team does is party.”
And then it hits me. The party was the kicker. In the time I’ve been working with Declan, he hasn’t been to a single party. He’s never pushing back study time or canceling on me for a party. He’s only changed our meeting times for one reason… hockey.
“My dad drove by the house,” he adds. “Saw all the cars, heard the music. He texted me that he thought he raised me better.”
