Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 65884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65884 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 329(@200wpm)___ 264(@250wpm)___ 220(@300wpm)
And we’d talked about this game. Naked. In bed.
He’d traced the outline of my biceps while I’d admired the streaks of sunlight in his hair. Walker had a paper due, and he’d wanted to stop by his professor’s office to discuss an assigned group project. We’d commiserated about how terribly those always went and grumbled over past experiences. Then he’d asked about the game.
I’d told him I was ready. We were going to crush Trinity…no doubt about it. And afterward, I’d tell him what Toby was freaking out about. He needed to know.
But I could not be fucking thinking about that shit now. We had a game to win.
We were tied at zero in the third period with three minutes and a handful of seconds left on the clock. Brady was scrapping for the puck with Trinity’s star forward in no man’s land. I loved the guy, but he wasn’t great at judging when to dump and chase. I had to get in there.
Coach called for a line change and I bolted into action, reinvigorated and reenergized. I tapped my stick to Langley’s and skated with him to the face-off circle, bumping into that asshole D-man along the way.
“Heard you’ve got a boyfriend, Czerniak.”
I did a double take and almost laughed. Really? This was how they were going to rattle our offense?
“Oh, yeah? Are you jealous?” I taunted.
“Not my thing, man. I wouldn’t let a guy suck my dick,” he scoffed.
“Well…I don’t think you’d have any takers anyway.” I made a “too small” gesture and winked, sliding into position as the whistle blew.
Nothing like a little smack talk to get the ol’ spirits up, I mused, skating like the wind, ready for Gus’s pass. I hustled into the right lane, deking around a forward with some fancy stick handling. I could feel the shit-talker hot on my heels.
“Chicks love me. Not my problem if you can’t get a hot girl and had to switch teams.”
He’d amped up his chatter, but I just grinned.
Ladies and gentlemen, I’d found the weak link.
I passed to Pritchard, then pivoted to my new best friend and inched my fingers together. I might have winked again. Sue me. The turd D-man was so easy, it was embarrassing. I called for the puck even though I was covered. Gus knew exactly what I had in mind.
“Super-duper small, huh? One-inch willy? Poor guy. You probably need a microscope to find it, huh? That’s a rough one.” The puck connected with my stick just as Trinity’s resident brain trust checked me against the boards. Hard. My already aching rib was on fire. White lights danced in my periphery and if I hadn’t been pushed to the ice, I might have fallen anyway.
But it was worth it.
A whistle blew, and he was sent to the sin bin.
We had our power play and with it, our best opportunity to put this game away. Gus faked a pass to Pritchard, slinging it to me instead. My angle was off, but with one less defender on me, I had my shot. Boom! Score!
Two minutes and ten seconds later, the Bears won. 1-0.
The postgame melee was more chaotic than usual. The Smithton Times wanted an interview, Coach gave his usual speech, and of course Gus was having a party…after we all stopped by Bear Depot to celebrate with the town.
They’d decked out the diner with blue and red streamers. Kids showed up in our jerseys, asking for autographs while their parents took pics. Shakes and fries were on the house and every booth was packed to maximum capacity. The celebratory mood had turned everyone into a hockey fan. Girls I’d never met flocked to our booths, wanting to know everything about us.
I’d called Walker and had sent a fuckload of texts, but I hadn’t heard from him.
Honestly, I was worried and I couldn’t just leave. This was a team event, a community event, and damn it, he should have been here. Everyone knew it. I lost count of how many people asked where he was. I didn’t fucking know.
Someone passed me a beer and another. I pasted a smile on my face, nibbled fries, and plotted my escape.
An incoming call from my agent saved the day. I didn’t question his timing. Toby said he had business in California this week, so maybe he didn’t realize it was almost eleven p.m. here.
“Hi, Toby. What’s up?”
“It’s time to cut ties with the influencer, kid. Do it now.”
I dug my keys from my pocket as I crossed the parking lot. “What are you talking about?”
“The free promo has been nice, but it’s too personal now. Some jerkwad has been calling here asking if I knew you and the Smithton guy were boyfriends. I told him no, obviously. And if that’s not true, I don’t want to know. This is hockey and you’re a fucking rookie. Keep your dick in your pants, got it?”