“My god, Pecan, do you know how fucking irritating you are?! Jesus Christ. You’re lucky you’re not swallowing this goddamn?—”
“CALLAN?!”
Frowning, I slide up my mask and scowl at him. “What?! WHAT?! If you ask me for help with an essay right now, I’ll kill you!”
He gawks at me. “You’re playing hockey.”
“Yes, I know.”
“You’re in nets!”
“Yes, dammit. What about it?”
He splutters, “I literally told you that Jonas Smith, our third-line goalie, broke his shoulder in a car crash last week and that we need someone to fill in our roster and you never said a fucking word!”
“Why would I?”
“YOU’RE A GOALIE!”
“I’M NOT!”
“Is there a reason you two are shouting at each other?”
I scowl at Zach who, of course, steps into the argument looking like the coolest fucking kid in school. I’d hate him if I hadn’t grown as close to him as this overgrown toddler in front of me. “This asshole started yelling at me when the game was in play!”
Pecan scowls back. “YOU’RE A GOALIE. YOU’RE PLAYING HOCKEY, AND YOU NEVER TOLD US!”
Zach shrugs. “He’s not wrong, Callan. Why’d you keep it a secret, huh?”
“It isn’t a secret. It’s the intramural league, not the NHL!”
“Korhonen! We’re ready, man!”
At the sound of my name, I grimace. “I’m busy.”
“But—”
“No. I’ll help youtomorrowwith an essay, Pecan.”
“LISTEN TO ME. This isn’t about computer science! You need to try out!”
Agitated, I snarl, “Try out for what?!”
“The team!”
“Which team? I’m already?—”
“I think he means the Dukes.” Zach snorts when I glower at him. “Hey, if Pecan thinks you’re good enough to try out, then you must be.”
I will not blush.
I willnot.
“I’m just dicking around out here.”
Dicking is the word. My brother plays for the New York Stars, for God’s sake. I’m in the college version of a beer league!
“No, you’re not. That save? That was fucking legend.” Pecan does this little jab/uppercut/jab combo. “Try out, man. Please!”
