GOSSIP TRAVELS TO the hockey house faster than I can skate a lap around the rink.
Kilner’s lecture put me in a shitty mood yesterday, so I spent the day in my room and away from my inquisitive roommates. Living with three seniors and two juniors makes keeping secrets impossible. The juniors, Sebastian Hayes and Cole Carter, are our very own gossip columnists. But today as I get back from the gym, Kian stands by the door, hands on his hips like a nagging mother.
My English literature class starts in twenty minutes, and I don’t have time for whatever Kian Ishida heard through the grapevine.
I ignore him, jogging upstairs to gather my things. When I come back down and head to the front door, he stops me. “Is there something you want to tell me, Aiden?”
“Depends on what you know.”
His gaze narrows. “You were in Kilner’s office for a while yesterday. I saw Summer Preston going in there too.”
Irritation bites at me. I’d rather not think about her, even if I feel a little bad for being rude. It isn’t her fault that I took the blame, but it doesn’t seem like she is eager to work with me either. She wanted a duster, for Christ’s sake.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
His eyes narrow. “Except there is, because we’re all in this too. Whatever it is, we’ll help.”
It’s obvious Kian feels guilty, and he won’t stop until he rectifies it. If he finds out I pissed off the girl who could save my ass, he’ll have an opinion.
“I’m late to class.” I close the door behind me before he has a chance to argue.
When I get to Carver Hall, I shove my phone into my pocket and focus on the lecture rather than how much shit is going wrong. It doesn’t last
though, because I get an email from Coach Kilner that heightens my stress ten-fold.
It’s short, sent from his phone and says, Come see me. I am so fucked.
Trying to focus in class after that is already a challenge, but when my phone buzzes in my pocket repeatedly it becomes impossible.
Bunny Patrol Eli Westbrook: Kilner is pissed.
Sebastian Hayes: On a scale of Kian’s streaking to Cole’s tire-slashing incident where does he land?
Eli Westbrook: Tire slashing.
Cole Carter: Uh. I’m gna miss next practice. My stomach hurts.
Sebastian Hayes: K. I’ll tell Kilner u have a tummy ache.
Dylan Donovan: Thought we all knew about Kilner’s perpetual stick up his ass?
Kian Ishida: Shhh. I swear the man can somehow read these. Kian Ishida: Coach if you’re reading this, I love you <3 Dylan Donovan: How’d you know he’s pissed?
Eli Westbrook: Heard he broke a junior’s hockey stick.
Kian Ishida: So? He’s broken like 6 of mine.
Eli Westbrook: Over his own head.
Kian Ishida: Oh yeah, he’s totally pissed.
Dylan Donovan: Wtf happened?
Eli Westbrook: @Aiden care to explain?
Kian Ishida: Cap? What did he do?
Did I mention I’m fucked?
Coach’s threat to put me on probation didn’t scare me enough to go ahead with that damn brain experiment, so now he’s ruining everyone’s lives. I sent the screenshot of the email to the group chat.
Aiden Crawford: He’s going to rip me a new one.
Dylan Donovan: Want us there for emotional support?
Kian Ishida: Fuck that. Coach will just see my face and get more pissed. Good luck, buddy.
Two hours later I find myself at the rink as Coach steps off the ice with the kids.
“Help me with the equipment, would ya?” From his face, a person would assume he’s our usual grumpy coach, but to the trained eye he’s fuming. Absolutely livid. I know he’s imagining biting my head off.
“Aiden, you promised you would come to our game. Where were you?” The tiny voice of Matthew LaHue reaches my ears as I’m collecting cones.
“Sorry, Matty, I got busy with school.” That is the most PG-rated version I can give him. I feel like shit when he walks off with a sad nod.
I follow Coach into his office for the second time this week.
“Sit down,” he orders, his tone rougher than usual. “Are you proud of yourself for the disappointment you caused in those kids?”
“No, sir.”
“They look up to you, Aiden. What does it say about the team when the captain doesn’t care enough to show up for the people in his community?”
“Coach, if this is about that girl’s project—”
“It’s not only about that. I’ve been watching you recently, and the patterns you’re creating are not healthy. You’re playing at the top of your game, but don’t you think I see how exhausted you are. You’re stretching yourself thin, kid.”
First Eli, now Coach. I guess I’m not hiding it well. “Does it really matter, as long as I’m playing well?”
Coach exhales an irritated breath. “Hockey can’t be your entire life. You have to think about the future.”
“The future? Coach, you’ve said that I play so well because I’m only focused on the present.”
“For now, but it can’t always be like that. Once you go to the NHL, it’s one bad game and it’s all over. I don’t want you to burn out.”
I laugh. There is no way I’m getting a lecture on burnout right now. My stats are great, and the team is doing well because of the extra effort we all put in. “Is that what you think is happening? I feel fine.”
“Are you sure? Because you’ve been missing commitments and losing sight of your players. You are not the captain I chose in junior year.”
His words cut deep, but I don’t let him see it. “I’m managing.”
“I don’t need you to manage, I need you to sustain. I’ve been coaching for twenty-five years, Crawford. Patterns are all I see. You are one of my best players. I’m not going to let this happen to you. You need to learn
balance. Partying should not be a main priority, especially not in your senior year.”
“It was only a few parties. I’ve been letting loose for once. Shouldn’t that help prevent my supposed burnout?”
Coach shakes his head. “That’s the wrong way to go about it. Find a balance, Aiden.”
“So you want me to balance my classes, hockey, coaching and a research project on top of everything else? Isn’t that counter-intuitive?”
“Maybe. But only if you’re making room for the wrong things. Let’s not forget that you willingly took on this punishment. I’d rather not give one to you, but these are the consequences. Deal with it, or I will.”
 |
THE LAST TIME I bought a girl flowers was, well, never.
I’m not an expert in botanics, but this situation calls for some serious damage control. Coach is seconds away from putting me on probation, so I have no choice but to deal with it.
In the flower shop, I’m immediately overwhelmed by the sheer volume of plants. A guy beside me holds a big wreath that could go nicely on a dorm door. Christmas had passed a month ago, but don’t girls like this stuff?
“Hey, I’m trying to say sorry to someone. You think those flowers would be good?”
He looks confused and the sadness on his face is evident. He must have really fucked up. He only shrugs and walks to the cashier. Not wanting to waste time browsing the aisles, I pick the same one.
Kian’s blowing up the group chat for no reason again when the cashier rings me up.
Bunny Patrol
Kian Ishida: Just saw two girls come out of Dylan’s room.
Eli Westbrook: Dirty motherfucker
Aiden Crawford: That’s what you were doing last night? We were supposed to go to the gym, D.
Sebastian Hayes: At least he got his cardio in.
Eli Westbrook: Double the cardio, apparently
Kian Ishida: I’m home Tuesdays. I’d prefer not to run into anyone on my way to the kitchen.
Dylan Donovan: Don’t be ungrateful, Ishida. They’re probably the only naked girls you’ve seen all year.
“My condolences,” the cashier says, making me look up from my phone. “Cash or credit?”
With my flowers in hand and spirits high, I pull into Iona House. Rejection doesn’t accompany anything I do, so each step to her dorm is met with easy confidence. Luckily Kian knew where she lived so I didn’t need to get my ears chewed by Coach if I had asked him.
When I knock, muffled voices can be heard through the door.
“I swear to God if you invited some asshole over—” The words die on Summer’s lips the moment she sees me. “I guess I got the asshole part right,” she mutters.
I smile. “Can we talk?”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m busy. I don’t have time for whatever this is.” She gestures to the flowers, then slams the door in my face.
What the fuck?
I stare at the brown door in disbelief. I knock again. No answer.
“You won’t even let me explain?” I knock harder with each passing minute.
My pounding halts when the door swings open to a very irritated blonde. “I have the worst hangover, can you shut up!” She drops her hand from her temple and looks up at me. “Aiden?”
“Hey, Cassie.”
Cassidy Carter is the twin sister of Cole, a junior defender on our team. Cole lives with us, holed away in the basement. She occasionally shows up at the house to yell at him for hitting on her friends. I had no idea she lives in Iona House, or that she’s friends with Summer Preston.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. “Getting your roommate to forgive me.”
She voices a dramatic gasp and turns to Summer. “This is the guy who ruined your project?”
I can’t hear what Summer says but I’m pretty sure it includes the words
jock and douchebag.
“Cassie, can I come in?”
“I don’t know, Aiden. You didn’t exactly leave the best impression,” she whispers.
“I know, and I want to change that. Which can only happen if you let me in. Please?” This smile failed me once tonight, but I try anyway. When Cassie opens the door wider, I smell victory.
Summer’s sitting on the couch with her laptop when her eyes come up to mine. She shoots a glare at an apologetic Cassie. Instead of helping alleviate the tension that clips the air around us, Cassie turns and runs out the door.
“Roommate?” I ask.
Summer doesn’t answer. She also doesn’t look at me. My confidence is withering by the second. “Can I at least apologize?”
Silence.
“Come on, Sunshine.”
Her head snaps up so suddenly, I take a step back. Wrong thing to say.
“Don’t call me that.” Blazing brown eyes pierce mine, and it’s kind of terrifying. She pushes her laptop off her legs and comes to stand a few feet away from me. “I know you’re the captain and you think people should bow at your feet when you ask for something, but you won’t get that from me. I don’t care if you feel bad now or if you’ve decided to retire that asshole behavior and turn a new leaf. You made your decision, and I made mine.” She opens the front door. “You’re free to go. Don’t waste your breath on me.”
I watch her in a trance. There’s so much fire in every word she spits at me, it’s like watching a captivating performance. Momentarily, I’m distracted by the thin T-shirt she’s wearing that reaches her thighs, and I’m busy reading the text on it when she snaps her fingers to bring my attention back to her face. Impatience riddles her features, but I don’t move. I need her, and if I have to deal with her uptight behavior, so be it.
“I was rude.”
She arches her brow.
“Fine, I was an asshole, and you deserve an apology. I’m sorry for the way I acted in Kilner’s office, he sprang it on me with no discussion. It’s nothing against you or your research.”
Summer stands by the open door with a stony expression. In a move that may get my balls crushed, I walk right up to her and push the door closed.
Her eyes mark the movement, but I don’t see her knee come up, so I continue.
“Will you give me a chance?” I ask. “Let me prove to you that I’m not the asshole you think I am.”
Her gaze drifts to the flowers in my hand. I extend them to her, but she doesn’t move to take them. “You got me a mourning wreath?”
A what? I look down at the flowers again and blink at her. But the sound of a creaking door makes both of us turn.
The girl stares wide-eyed. “Need some privacy?” How many roommates does she have?
Summer snorts, then pushes me away to walk back to the couch. “No.” Her roommate eyes me. “I’ve seen you before. Where?”
“Not sure, but I’m Aiden,” I extend my hand and her eyes widen before she takes it.
“Oh shit!” She beams. “You’re notorious in these dorms, Captain.” “For good reason, I hope.”
“I’d say so.” She smiles, then turns to Summer, mouthing something that I don’t see.
Summer ignores it. “You’re free to go.” She dismisses me like I’m an annoying child.
I try again. “One chance.” “No.”
What is it going to take? I’ve never had to fight this hard to keep a girl’s attention. Majority of the time, I don’t have to try at all.
“What did you do?” her friend asks.
“Amara,” Summer warns, and I watch them have a silent conversation. Amara purses her lips before eyeing me up and down, and then she opens the door with a sympathetic look.
When I don’t move, there’s a small smile on her lips. “She said no, pretty boy.”
“Come on, Amara. Don’t you think I deserve one chance to fix my fuck- up?”
She twirls a braid around her finger, eyes settling on the flowers in my hand. “Whose funeral did you go to?”
I give her a strange look. “What?”
“You’re holding a mourning wreath. Like the ones at funerals,” she explains.
Now that I really look at it, I realize I’ve seen the wreath before. That explains all the looks and condolences I received on my way here. I try to recover. “I’m showing just how sorry I am.”
She chuckles, her expression contemplative. “You’ll need that when she’s done with you.” The ominous threat should have me walking out, but when she closes the door, triumph lifts my lips. “Good luck. I’m not getting in the middle of this,” she declares, walking back to her room.
Well, there goes my plan.
I turn to the fuming girl who’s typing intentionally loud on her laptop. Funeral flowers in hand, I approach her like a man would a lion. With a slow lift of her eyes, she watches me take her laptop and place it on the coffee table.
“Let me help you with the assignment.”
“I don’t need your help. I could easily walk over to the basketball team and get their captain.”
There’s no doubt about that, he would be all over her if she wanted him. My damage control is failing. “Anything you want. I’ll do it. Do you want rink side seats, or I can set you up with one of the guys? What about Eli? All the girls love Eli.”
Unimpressed, she folds her arms. “You think the equivalent of having you in my research is sitting rink side and a date with one of your teammates?”
I shrug innocently.
“I’ve never been to a Dalton hockey game and I’m not planning on going.”
My head rears back in surprise, because everyone at Dalton loves hockey. Especially women. Half of our stands are filled with sororities. “Not a fan?”
“You haven’t done anything to make me one.”
“Probably because you haven’t seen me play…or without a shirt on.” The joke doesn’t give me the desired effect. Instead, her glare sharpens. “Fine, is there something else I can do?”
“You’re wasting your time. I’m sure you can talk Kilner out of whatever he’s holding against you.”
“I’m not doing it for him,” I say honestly. This is about creating a balance and standing up for my team regardless of the shit they do. “At least think about it?”
She lifts her chin. “Fine. I’ll think about it.”
Not wanting to give her any reason to rescind her offer, I head to the door. “You won’t regret it.”
“I haven’t said yes yet.” I smile. “You will.”
