Page 9 of A Little Tempting
“Great,” he mutters under his breath. With a wave of his hand, Everett motions for me to get on with it. Does he think he’s subtle?
Dylan pulls out her phone, her fingers hovering over the numbers while refusing to look at me again. I could push it, but I won’t. The girl seems like someone who prefers careful coaxing more than being bombarded with testosterone. That is if I wanted to push her in the first place. Fucking up my relationship with my roommates over a girl isn’t exactly on my itinerary. Not when they already view me as a selfish prick.
Giving in, I rattle off my phone number, and she types it into her phone, saving my contact information.
“I’ll, uh, I’ll call you later,” she murmurs.
“Can’t wait.” I back away from her and head inside the building for my next bullshit class. I wasn’t kidding when I told her I signed up for photography for an easy credit. Well, I also lost a bet during registration, but my diploma’s nothing more than a technicality I’m stubborn enough to achieve so I can shove it in my dad’s face. Therefore, I don’t give a shit about what’s on the transcripts as long as I have the credits to graduate. Hockey’s my future, thanks to being drafted my sophomore year, and despite my fuck ups, I’ve put a lot of blood, sweat and tears into the sport. I refuse to give it up for anything.
Lions, here I come.
* * *
Practice is a bitch,but we get through it.Barely.We fucking suck this year. We didn’t, but we lost two of our best players, and now, it’s like we can’t catch a break.
It’s weird not having either Buchanan playing. My best friend, Maverick, had heart surgery, and his twin, Archer, passed away in a car accident. In some fucked-up twist of fate, Mav received Archer’s heart. Now, he’s living with his parents while he recovers, and the rest of the team is trying to figure out how to play without two of their best defensemen. If they moved away or some shit, it would be one thing, but having a teammate fucking die? It’s messing with all our heads, making it impossible to concentrate on anything, let alone winning.
Our first game is in a couple of weeks. Bluntly put? We’re not ready. I’m not usually the sentimental type, but my entire body is sore from how hard I’ve pushed it on the ice to honor the twins’ absences. I’m not the only one. The whole team eats, sleeps, and breathes hockey, but you wouldn’t know it. Nah, after today’s practice, I’m convinced you could strap a pair of skates on a flock of geese, and they’d still look better on the ice than we do.
Rumor has it the Lady Hawks, LAU’s women’s team, are showing up, which is saying something, considering Ophelia’s involvement with the twins and her position as a goalie. She’s gotta be as fucked in the head as the rest of us, though it isn’t showing in her playing time. So, what the hell is wrong with us?
Toweling off my wet hair, I head to my locker, hating how quiet it is. But the worst part is how I can’t escape it. The quiet. Not at home. Not at practice. Fucking nowhere, and it’s slowly driving me insane.
I hate the quiet. I’ve hated it since I was a little kid when my dad would be at work or disappear on a bender until his next shift, and I would spend my days all alone in my trailer. Yeah, those were the good ol’ days.
Cue the sarcasm.
After I was accepted to LAU, I vowed to never go back to the quiet. The loneliness. The fucking itch crawling along my skin anytime I’m by myself. And so far, it’s worked. I had Maverick and my teammates and hockey and parties and girls. I had the fucking world. Now, Archer’s dead, Maverick’s living with his parents while he heals from surgery, and the rest of the team prefers drowning their sorrows in silence. It doesn’t matter how much I fight it. The darkness is starting to creep in, and I’m not sure how long I can take it.
The rest of the team has gone home except me, Griffin, and Everett. We showered in silence—my favorite—each of us well aware of the uphill battle we’ll face in our first game if we can’t get our heads out of our asses.
Griffin straddles the bench between the lockers with the Hawk’s playbook spread open in front of him. Since his older brother, Jaxon, graduated last year, the team voted for Griffin to take his place as captain, and he’s been doing his best to stay focused. Considering Archer’s funeral was last week, I’d say it’s easier said than done.
“Aren’t they the same plays as last year?” I joke, opening my locker and grabbing my boxers.
He doesn’t bother looking at me as he flips the laminated sheet to the next page. “Smartass.”
“You avoiding home, too?” I prod. I’ve never been a fan of walking on eggshells, and after the last few weeks of doing exactly that, I’m throwing in the towel.
Griffin looks up at me. “Who says I’m avoiding home?”
“Come on, man. We’ve all been avoiding home. No use being dipshits and lying about it.”
He looks back at the plays but doesn’t deny it.
“We should have another Game Night,” I decide. The idea sounds better and better as it hangs in the air. Since our freshman year at LAU, we’ve thrown Game Nights ranging from Truth or Dare to Musical Chairs to The Floor is Lava. It sounds childish, but when mixed with some alcohol, cute girls, and my teammates, they’re some of the best nights I’ll ever have.
“A Game Night?” Griffin questions.
“Yeah. We could play Spin the Bottle or Hide and Seek or…I dunno?” I lean the back of my head against the cool metal locker and stare up at the ceiling. “Fuck, anything is better than the silence in our place.”
Stepping out of the shower area, Everett wraps a towel around his waist and interjects, “You really think a Game Night is a good idea?”
“I think anything to lift the curse is a good idea,” I argue.
Griff cocks his head. “Curse?”
“You know what I mean,” I push. “The silence is starting to go to my head, Griff. I swear, I’m going crazy, and after the shitshow Coach called a practice earlier? I know I’m not the only one feeling it.”