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)
Jacobs gives me the finger.
“What if the team made you do certain captain challenges?” Grant asks. “Try to make it fair instead of a popularity contest.”
I smile. “You’re only saying that because you know your boy will lose if it comes down to who’s more likeable.”
Cohen bounces in his seat next to me. “No, no. I love this idea. We could make you streak across the quad or … ooh, drinking contest.”
Grant frowns. “That’s not what I meant. At all.”
Cohen takes out his phone. “What? Can’t hear you. I’m too busy texting the others.”
Jacobs and I share a glance. For the first time ever, I think we’re on the same page, thinking the exact same thing.
We’re fucked.
3
Jacobs
It’s getting late, and the plan had been to leave well before now, but Beck is putting away drinks like he’s on a mission. I’d like to say it’s not that I hope he gets drunk and screws up tomorrow, but that idea certainly holds appeal.
It’s not the reason I’m still here though. Beck could write himself off whether I’m here or not. No, instead I have this useless feeling of responsibility to make sure everyone gets back to the dorms okay. Including Beck.
“Damn, I’m going to miss this,” Grant says.
“Unlikely.” Beck snorts. “You’re going to be living the NHL life. Hockey, booze, puck bunn—ah, I mean …”
I whack him on the back of the head. “Asshole.”
Zach laughs and turns a sickening look on Grant, while talking to me. “It’s okay, Topher, we know what the reality will be.”
“Wait …” Beck sets a hand on my thigh as he leans right over to look at Zach. “What did you call him?”
“Toph—”
“No.” I cut him off. “No. None of that. It’s not a thing.”
“Topher.” Beck sits back, giving me some damn space, and presses his fist to his mouth. His eyes are wide, like Zach’s given him some kind of gift. “Topher.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Whatever you say. Topher.”
Well, I guess it is a thing. All I can do now is try to hide how lame I think that name is. I’ve let Zach get away with it because he’s Grant’s guy and he’s kinda funny, but I’ve always drawn the line when Grant tried it.
For exactly this reason.
Beck will latch onto anything he knows will get under my skin.
“Talk smack all you want. It’s going to be Captain Topher to you.”
Beck tilts his head. “It’s adorable you think that.”
“I’m sorry you choose to be in denial.”
“Denial?” He points at Cohen. “After we go streaking for these losers, there won’t be any question of who’s packing the big guns.”
“A big dick means nothing on the ice.”
His pretty-boy smile comes in full force. “And there you go, thinking of my dick again. Do we need to get you help?”
Grant thumps the table. “Okay, we’re out.”
It distracts me from a response, and I watch as he and Zach stand up. This is—wow. I suddenly realize this is the last time I’m gonna see my friend in … I have no fucking clue.
I awkwardly stand up. “Good luck, man.”
“Thanks.” He pulls me in for a hug. “Captain or not, you’re going to do awesome this year.”
“So you don’t think I can do it either?”
“Did I say that?” He lets me go, and Zach gives me an awkward wave. “Trust the team. They might be a bunch of goofballs, but when it comes to the game, they’re smart. And”—he trades a look with Zach—“have some fun with it. It’s your last year. Your last time with these guys. When they give you bullshit challenges, do them.”
“I can’t help but think you wouldn’t be saying that if this was happening to you.”
“Yeah, but it’s not.” He laughs and holds up his hand to the others. “I’ll forget you assholes when I’m famous.”
Zach sighs like he’s too used to Grant by now.
To be fair, we all are. He’s leaving big skates to fill.
They leave me with a pressure bearing down on my chest, and as Grant loops his arm around Zach, I hear Zach say, “I know I’m hopeless, but there was definitely sexual tension there.”
Grant laughs it off.
Tension, yes. He’s right about that. Sexual tension? No. Nope, nope, nope. Never. Nope. No. Seven no’s should cover it. No wait, one more: fucking nope!
It’s time to call it. I’m about to tell the team to get their asses up and get moving, but when I turn back around, it’s only Beck waiting for me.
“Let’s go.” I’m resigned to another annoying walk back to the dorms.
We leave, and I watch Beck to see if I’m gonna have to carry his heavy ass, but he seems to be walking straight.
“You’re not drunk,” I realize.
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
“You drank at least double the rest of us, how are you still on your feet?” I’m nowhere near drunk, but the beer has given me a buzz.