I stare at my cell phone screen for a moment, utterly dumbfounded.
The word nate
Don’t text my name! What if someone is reading over your shoulder?
I NEED THE PUCKING WORD!
*DUCKING
“Argh!”
**FUCKING
I actually yell the last part out loud at my phone when a door opens at the end of the hallway and Hart’s dark head pops out.His eyes widen almost comically when he stares at me, then his lips curl up into a crooked grin.
“Maybe after training, if you’re still up for it then,” he jokes while I jog toward him, too relieved to have found a way out of this maze to comment on it.
The best comebacks always take two weeks to come to me.
I squeeze through the door and past him, which isn’t all that easy with the huge duffel bag on my shoulder and Hart already having suited up. The guy’s a freaking giant, towering over most of the other players. It’s one of the many things I despise about him—how he’s literally able to look down on me every time we face off. We try to minimize our interaction on an everyday level—something that has just become much harder over the past twelve hours—but on the ice, all bets are off. Whatever respect we might have had for each other vanished after that fucking interview at the end of freshman year.
“What took you so long?” Hart wants to know while following me through the locker room. I awkwardly fumble around, bumping fists here and there while forcing a cheerful smile onto my face.
“Hey man!”
“What’s up brother?”
“Bro!”
I cringe inwardly. Although I hear Nate talking like that every day, the words feel wrong coming out of my own mouth.
“Class took longer,” I mumble an explanation while eyeing the room to try and figure out where Nate’s locker is located. I didn’t even think to ask about it! Unbeknownst to him, Hart saves me again when he takes a seat on the bench to put his skates on, alerting me to the empty space beside him. I march over and set my duffel down, then weigh my head.
Nate didn’t bother to give me the combination for his lock.
Since we spent most of our lives in the same locker room I still feel confident when I set the little numbers to his birth date.
The door doesn’t budge.
I frown as I check the setting again: 1116.
Nothing.
For the shortest moment I doubt myself, like I would have forgotten my own twin’s birthday, then decide to switch it up: 1611.
Still nothing.
There’s a wave of panic washing over me. How dare he change his stupid lock combination that he used his whole life!
Clearly, this was a dumb idea. A terrible, stupid, dumb idea! The last time we did this, we still lived under the same roof, meaning I didn’t have to guess where his locker was situated and didn’t have to fumble for his friends’ names. I also didn’t get lost on his school grounds because we shared the same classes.
I reach for the cell again.
PASSWORD
I type, my fingers shaking from stress, while Hart looks at me warily.
“Everything alright?” he asks, those intense blue eyes narrowing suspiciously as I nod.
