Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152064 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
“Oh crap, how bad is the damage?” I pull my phone out of my pocket and find the message with the code.
“One of the maintenance guys said they have to replace the entire floor,” Arya replies.
“How long will that take?” I input the booking reference code and frown. “All the studios on campus are coming up red.”
“How is that possible?” Charles groans. “We just got the email a few minutes ago.”
“I can check the yoga studio in my apartment complex.” I pull up the booking link. Unfortunately, I’m not the only person with this idea. I secure us an evening spot today and book where I can for the rest of the week, but now we’re short on practice sessions.
“We’ll have to find somewhere off campus.” Arya fiddles with the end of her braid. “I hope it’s not too expensive.”
Arya is here on a full scholarship and had to take out loans to afford room and board. Charles is in a similar position.
If I’d been on time, they would have had the code, and maybe we wouldn’t be scrambling. But I have connections. The Terror office has a gym and a yoga studio. It’s not convenient, but it could be an option. “Let me see what I can do.”
CHAPTER 17
FLIP
“You all right, man? You seem preoccupied.” Tristan passes me the puck during warm-ups.
I glance around, checking for privacy with our whole team out here on the ice. Everyone is focused on their own drills, though. “It’s about Tally.”
Tristan fumbles the puck.
I snag it and pass it back.
He arches a brow in silent question.
It takes me a few seconds to work up the nerve to spit it the fuck out. Telling Dred and talking to Tally is not the same as asking her dad for permission or telling my teammates. “I want to date her.”
“Bea has been waiting for this for fucking ever. The gloating will be next-level.”
My sister’s name is Beatrix, and he’s the only one who shortens it that way. The rest of us call her Rix.
“What?” He’s not even remotely surprised, which is really fucking problematic. It’s like he expected it. Is everyone expecting it? How long have I been in the dark about my own fucking feelings?
“Timing has really been the thing,” he explains as we continue to pass the puck back and forth. “She’s graduating university in a few months. She’s always had her head on straight, minus the last couple of boyfriends. Bea has not been a fan.”
“None of us were.” I feel like I’m in the twilight zone. How is this even a casual conversation? It feels fucking monumental.
“Well, we know why you weren’t.”
“I wasn’t looking at her like she had girlfriend potential until recently,” I say defensively. He still doesn’t know about her propositioning me.
“There’s been a vibe. It was particularly strong on New Year’s,” Tristan says.
I had convinced myself I could be close to her and not do anything stupid on New Year’s. Maybe if Quinn hadn’t been flirty with her, I would have had half a chance. Maybe if she hadn’t worn a thong bikini in the hot tub. Maybe if I hadn’t ended up in the closet with her. Yeah, I was fucked regardless. “She’s going through it, you know?”
“Yeah, I do.”
Tristan’s mom bailed when we were twelve, and he helped raise his younger brothers, so he speaks from experience.
“You worried about how Vander Zee will handle it, especially with everything else going on?” he asks.
We both glance at Coach. He’s been on edge, and he looks exhausted most of the time. Ending a twenty-five-year marriage is probably the same as mourning.
“Yeah. And Hemi.” What happens if Tally and I end up together long-term? What if I fall in love with her and she can’t deal with the intensity of my life and leaves? Why am I spiraling now?
“She’ll have feelings about it, but you’re coming to her before the shitstorm, so that should count for something,” Tristan reassures me.
“That’s what I’m hoping.” If Vander Zee trades me or murders me, I’m setting Tally up to be hurt all over again. And I really don’t want that.
Coach Forrest-Hammer blows the whistle and calls us in. She’s been stepping up more lately. I don’t know if Vander Zee is pushing her, or if she’s taking the pressure off him.
After practice, I shower and change, then head up to Vander Zee’s office. The sooner I rip the bandage off, the better. My palms are damp, my heart is racing, and I feel like vomiting isn’t out of the question as I prepare to knock on his office door. The conversation I’m about to have will change everything. But not following through isn’t an option. My teammates can shun me, and my coach can rip me a new one, but I won’t let either stop me. It would hurt too much to walk away.