Page 3 of The Game
I take her advice, pushing through the gray swinging door and collapsing into the old office chair that sits behind the battered wooden desk. The chair creaks under my weight, and icy water hits my thigh, shaky hands causing it to tip over the rim of the glass.
Placing it on the desk, I drop my head onto my arms, taking some deep breaths and trying to remember the meditation exercises I learned in that yoga class I’ve been taking with Jordan. It’s fairy yoga. The instructor wears pointed ears and a crown, and there’s an enchanted mural that stretches around the walls.
That helps. I close my eyes, taking deep breaths, and trying to clear my mind until the trembling eases. Usually, I don’t let asshole customers get to me this hard. I can’t if this is going to be my own business one day. Well, not All Capps, but a coffee shop. One day maybe I’ll even get to open my dream coffee shop and bookstore combo with my bestie. I wish I could go see her, but she graduated last year, and with her man in theNHL, she’s dividing her time between here and Chicago until she can officially move there.
A long sigh hisses out through my lips. I have no idea how I’ll survive my senior year without her in the area full time. I’ve got a few other friends, but no one close enough to tell all my deepest, darkest secrets to. Especially after I let Darryl consume my life and push them away. It’s going to be a long year.
Chapter 2
Shake It Off
Cole
As Mabel’s engine rumblesup the driveway of the hockey house, I’m still a little on edge. My knuckles are white against the faded black of the steering wheel, and I’m not sure if I should have driven home in this state. I couldn’t stay there though. If I hadn’t forced myself to leave the cafe, I might have stalked that asshole back to his car and embedded his teeth into the back of his skull. Few things piss me off more than people treating other humans like shit. Especially women, service workers or anyone their limited brains consider inferior. Guy was an absolute ape. I shake my head. If this is the state of humanity, I don’t even wanna.
The buzzing of my phone pulls my attention. I frown at the unknown number, tapping it to delete what I’m sure is a spam text. A tingly feeling crawls up the back of my neck as I scan the message. You have got to be fucking kidding me.
Hi, Cole. It’s Char. I got a new number and I really need to talk to you.
My ringtone breaks the silence before I’ve finished reading the brief message. What the fuck? I blocked her old number, and she hasn’t tried to contact me in several months. My guts are roiling again at the unwelcome contact from my ex. I thought I was long rid of her. I silence the call and block the number, tossing my phone into my bag with more force than necessary.
When I’ve gathered myself enough to keep it together, I think, I slide out my car door, boots slamming into the pavement, and stomp up the path. The red front door appears to have gotten an unnecessary paint refresh while we were off over the summer. Place still looks the same. Porch swing swaying slightly in the breeze as if someone just stood up and abandoned it. Neat green hedges lining the front of the house. Good thing those are low maintenance because I have never seen a soul here touch them. Beau’s parents must pay to get them trimmed.
My key clicks in the lock and I swing the door open quietly, hoping to avoid detection. Last year, I became an expert at slipping in and out of this house unnoticed until Jackson decided to insert himself into my life. I was kinda hoping I’d be able to ease back into my previous state of blending in with the furniture now that he’s graduated.
No such luck. Beau and Dev are horsing around in the living room with JJ and Grant watching from the sidelines. Those goofballs moved in to replace Seb and Jacks after theygraduated last year. Grant is ok, if a bit pushy sometimes, but JJ our goalie is… let’s just say he’s a goalie. He’s loud, and opinionated and thinks he’s god’s gift to hockey. Suddenly I kind of miss the days of Seb brooding over his girl and trying to start shit with me on the ice over it. At least he was a little quieter around the house.
“Coco!” JJ calls out. “What’s happening, dude?”
“Nothing.” The new nickname he christened me with is already driving me up the wall. Nicknames are the norm when you play on a hockey team, but no one bothered to give me one last year. Probably due to the way I avoided all unnecessary social interactions. But Jenson just couldn’t seem to help himself from coming up with one the day he moved in. And he outdid himself. It sounds like he’s calling for his pet poodle with a fancy pants haircut any time he shouts it out.
I keep walking, hoping my determined strides toward the stairs will discourage him from questioning me. Nope. He bounces over.
“Come on. We’re going out tonight. Join us.”
My first thought is to bite out a no, but they are my team members, and I might not want to become besties with them, but I also shouldn’t piss them off. They’re the ones who might be able to make me look good on the ice. I’ve got the talent, but if no one will pass the puck to me, I’m sunk.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe! I got a maybe!” His high-pitched excitement makes me wince as I look over to find the others staring at me with gaping mouths.
“It was a maybe, not a lifelong commitment,” I mutter, as I make it to the stairs, taking them two at a time to escape to the relative peace of my room.
Sanctuary. As soon as the door clicks shut and I flip the lock, a weight lifts off my shoulders. Trying to keep the guys at arm’s length while they try to draw me in to their group has become an uncomfortable burden. Moving into this house last year after the nightmarish mess I escaped from at my old school might have been a mistake from that point of view. But it is a fucking nice place. The cool blue walls of my room are a soothing escape, and the only thing missing is my own bathroom. Dev claimed Seb’s old room before he’d even moved all his stuff out to head off for his new life in LA, so I’m still stuck sharing with the other two.
The stacks of thick books on my utilitarian black desk are calling my name. I’ve got a heavy workload looming over my head for senior year. Heavier than I should have given the hectic hockey schedule, and my need to make an outstanding impression. If I’m going to catch any team’s eye this year, I’ve got to step up my game. If my world hadn’t blown up in my sophomore year, things would be different, but there’s no use dwelling on the past. On things you can’t change.
After dumping my backpack on top of my dark blue comforter, I rifle through it to find the reading assignments for my Evil in The Contemporary World course. The slightly used but still overpriced textbook is smooth and comforting under my hands when I pick it up and flip to the correct page.
I’m lost in Kant’s words when the chirp of my phone startles me out of the trance I fall into while deep in my studies.
A warm feeling settles in my chest at my youngest sister’s name on the screen.
“Hey, Liss.”
“Big brother! How are you? You haven’t called yet.”
“I’ve got nothing new to share.”