“Uh-huh.” His lips quirk. “From one divorce baby to another, I know all about the trust issues. On behalf of malekind, I can’t tell you that we don’t all suck because a lot of us do, but I try not to.”
“Why do you think I hang around with you?” I nudge him with my elbow. “I have good taste in people.”
He smiles, and I can see the tension in his shoulders lessen. Huh—my opinion of him genuinely mattered to him. That’s sweet.
“But, okay,” he continues, “you’re not dating, so why did Zach risk a place in the NCAA by deferring a year? I know he went off the radar last season.”
“How do you know that?”
“I googled him the first time I thought about approaching you in philosophy so we’d have something to talk about.”
I bark out a laugh. “You googled him forme?”
“Hey, it was nerve-racking! I hate meeting new people and I needed an icebreaker.” He hitches a shoulder. “Then, I got nosy. There’s little to no chatter about why he took a year off. Which is hella sus. A promising player? Easily ditching a season for… what? Shits and giggles? Nah.”
“It wasn’t as tough for him to give it up as you might think.” At Callan’s disbelieving look, I shrug. “Zach loves hockey, don’t get me wrong. He lives and breathes it. But at his core, he hates it too.”
Callan fidgets in his seat. “I know it’s none of my business, but youhave to explain that. There’s no way he could dedicate himself to the game if he loathed it, and you’re just making me even more curious with these half-answers!”
“I know, I know. Like I said, if you asked him about it, he’d argue with me. But it’s there. An inbuilt disdain.”
“Because of his parents?”
“Well, his dad more than his mom. Joanne could do no wrong in Zach’s eyes,” I say wistfully. She was a cool mom. Tolerant and kind. When I got my first-ever period, I went to her and not mine.
“Past tense?”
“Yeah.”
See? He picks up on too much.
“Ah, shit. Last year?”
I nod. “So, Pecan, Zach, and me, we grew up in Florida?—”
“Say no more.”
I shove him with a snort. “Shut up.”
“Hey, more Canadians in Florida than Floridians. At least, until Devere became president. Anyway, go?—”
Both of us pause as Zach steals the puck from a UConn forward the second it drops and the period starts.
It’s a reminder that I’m actually here to watch a game and not shoot the breeze with Callan.
Zach breaks away, soaring down the ice. With the other Lions chasing after him, he’s just too damn fast for them to catch up.
My heart races in time to each of his skates brushing the ice. He’s like Hermes. If Hermes didn’t have feathery wings on his sandals, but knives strapped to his boots.
I jerk to my feet in anticipation, having watched Zach pull this stunt a thousand times. I take note of the goalie shuffling from one side of the net to the other because Zach’s fucking around with him via big, loping strides that have the other guy shifting left and right.
But it’s not enough.
Zach showers the crease with a spray of ice as he comes to an abrupt stop. He toys with the puck before sliding it through the goalie’s knees.
When the guy drops into a split and stops it from heading over the line, Zach pulls some monkey magic that sees him toss the puck up like he’s playing goddamn lacrosse and hitting the top right of the net.
Roaring, Callan jostles me as he jumps up to cheer with me. Zach pumps his fist, expression a grim rictus until he catches me in the crowd and beams a grin my way. He sticks out his fist, points it at me, then the cocky asshole winks.
