Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 82508 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82508 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 413(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
“Dude, half of those were Cokes.”
“What?”
“It’s called responsible drinking.”
“I didn’t think you knew the meaning of the word.”
“What, drinking? I’ve done my research on it.”
I let out a long, patient breath, reminding myself it’s stupid to engage. The guy can’t have a single conversation without it turning into a joke.
“Oh, I get it.” He slings his arm around my shoulders, and I immediately shrug him off. “You were hoping I’d have a hangover for tomorrow. Wow. Harsh, Topher, even for you.”
Patience. I just need some fucking patience.
“Here I was thinking you wanted to become captain the honorable way. Instead, you wanted me to get drunk so you could take advantage of the situation. And not in the fun way.”
“Has anyone ever told you your voice is on the level of shattered glass?”
“Maybe if you removed that hockey stick from your ass, you’d find me more enjoyable.”
“Doubtful. You’d still be … you.”
“Interesting.” Beck rubs his hand over his jaw. “I’m beginning to think this thing between us is personal.”
“Only now picking up on that?”
“To be honest, I’ve never really given a shit before.”
“Cool story.” Since when did campus get this big? We’re still barely halfway to the dorm. “Why do you care now?”
“I don’t. But it would be a whole lot easier for you to follow me next year if you liked me a little bit.”
“It would be a whole lot easier to like you if you weren’t a self-assured ass.”
“And now you’re thinking of my ass. Geez, Topher, maybe Grant’s little boy toy is right.”
“Don’t call Zach that. I wasn’t talking about your ass. And no one is right about anything.” My face is getting hot, and I remind myself about the patience thing again. Beck isn’t going to get a rise out of me for implying I’m gay. I’m not. But … no. Nope. What had been going on in my head for Grant was hero worship and nothing else. I just get a hard-on for serious talent.
That’s it.
When Beck doesn’t respond, I know something’s up. And as much as I don’t wanna look at his smug face, I can’t stop myself. He’s watching me with way too much going on behind his eyes for someone who’s drunk at least as much as me.
“What?”
“Nothing. You got really angry about that all of a sudden.”
“I’m not angry, you’re talking shit.”
“Right.” His eyebrows lift a little, making me want to smack that expression off his face. “That totally explains why your hands are clenched.”
I hurry to release my fists. “Turns out, anything more than a few hours with you is more strenuous than first practice of the season.”
“You going to throw up now too?”
“That was one time, freshman year. Let it go.”
“Sure thing, Topher.”
I groan and try not to lash out at him. The thing is, from anyone else, I’d tell them to shut up and move on. They’d call me names, I’d throw them right back, then we’d get the fuck over it.
But Beck has somehow managed to unearth all the little buttons that drive me crazy, and even more annoying is that I let him get to me. This summer is about working on the team, finding new talent and future CU students, and proving to everyone I’m the captain they need. If I keep letting Beck piss me off, none of those things are going to happen. I’ve managed to keep my cool the past few years, but I’ve also never had to deal with him in such close capacity before.
And when I find that stupid smirk back on his face, I know this summer is going to kill me.
I need to find a new way of handling him.
Otherwise I can kiss being captain goodbye.
4
Beck
Topher is playing a new game. It’s the let’s see how long he can ignore Beck game. Honestly, I’m surprised he’s managed to last three days.
When I provoke him, he smiles at me and walks away.
What the hell?
This is not how things are supposed to go.
I want to get under his skin.
“Hey, kid,” I say to one of the high schoolers I’m mentoring.
“Tamm.”
Right. Whatever. “Yeah, I need you to do me a favor. Can you start calling that guy”—I point to Jacobs—“Topher? Oh, and if you get all the other guys to do it, there’s a six-pack of beer in it for you.”
“R-really?”
“Yup.” Light beer. To share with the other guys. But I’m not pointing that out.
“Deal.”
Now to wait.
We finish out the practice session with the high school kids doing some easy and light skating drills. Jacobs and Rossi stay back to run through it with them while the rest of us are told to hit the showers.
As I leave the ice, I hear one of the kids call Jacobs Topher, and I am loving it. Until I hear his laugh.
I spin to find Jacobs shaking his head, but he’s still laughing.