THREE MONTHS LATER
“STOP TRYING TO SEDUCE ME. I’ve got a meeting with Skinner in thirty minutes, and I need to shower.”
Anastasia stops kissing her way down my torso, looking up at me from just above my belly button with those big, blue eyes I fucking love. How can someone look so innocent but be so much goddamn trouble at the same time? She sits up a little, the most mischievous smile on her lips as she crawls back up my body and presses a chaste kiss against my lips before rolling off and lying beside me.
“What do you think he wants?” she asks, pulling the covers over her body so I can formulate a response, and not get distracted by the fact her tits are directly in my eyeline.
“Dunno,” I mumble, shuffling toward her and running my hand across her soft skin. “Probably wants to use me as a human sacrifice or something.”
She nods in agreement, curling back into my body. “I can see that. Do you think your dad will let me stay here when you’re gone? We can’t move into our new place until the end of the school year, and I don’t feel like the streets of Maple Hills are for me.”
“I think he’d probably prefer to throw you out on the street, but there’s a chance he won’t notice I’m dead for at least six months, so you’ll probably be fine.”
Things with Dad are as peachy as ever. The only half-decent thing he’s done recently was giving Sasha time off to let the Hamlets drive her to Denver with them to watch us play when the NCAA championships were held there at the start of the month.
We won the tournament—not like he would have noticed even if he were there. I’m glad Sasha got to see us win, alongside Anastasia and her parents. I can still hear Colin now, telling me and absolutely anyone who would listen how unbelievably proud he was. It was an emotional day all around; even Faulkner and Robbie had a little moment.
It was the perfect way to end my college hockey career, even more perfect because of who I was sharing it with.
“If you get sacrificed do I get your trust fund or does your dad take it back?” she asks, giggling when I dig my fingers into her side. “Also, do I have your blessing to marry Henry?”
“No and no,” I say as sternly as I can manage. “I want you to wear black for the rest of your life and never move on.”
“Urgh.” She half grumbles, half laughs, squirming around. “That’s going to interfere with next year’s spring break plans.”
She squeals, laughing as I drag her from the bed, throw her over my shoulder, and march us to the shower.
 |
THE RIDE to Director Skinner’s office seems to take twice as long as normal.
I texted Faulkner yesterday to see if he knew what it was about, but he wasn’t helpful.
COACH
NATE HAWKINS: Hey Coach. Been asked to go see Skinner tomorrow. Do you know what it’s about?
COACH: Do I look like his fucking secretary?
NATE HAWKINS: Well I’ve never seen you and his secretary in the same place…
NATE HAWKINS: So…
COACH: Come see me at my office after you’re done with Skinner.
COACH: Do not bring me bad news.
COACH: My life is going to be so much easier when you graduate in two months.
NATE HAWKINS: Gonna miss you too, Coach.
Skinner’s office isn’t in the sports building with the rest of the coaches and sports staff. For some reason, his is in the main building, right near the dean’s office. I imagine it’s easier for him to kiss the dean’s ass if he’s in the same building. He’s on the phone when I’m shown into his office by his actual secretary, which gives me the chance to look around and confirm it’s as grim as I was expecting it to be.
“Sorry about that. Nathan, hello, thank you for coming to see me. I’m sure you’re wondering what this is about.”
“Have I done something wrong?”
“Not exactly,” he says calmly, leaning back in his chair. “Two months ago, I was approached by a student regarding the incident involving you and Aaron Carlisle.”
“Okay…”
“She explained Mr. Carlisle had a vendetta against you and was injured off campus while drunk with his friends. He used the accident as an opportunity to tarnish your reputation.”
“That’s what I’ve been told by people who were with him, yeah.”
“Of course, you admitted to being the cause, which you should not have done…but I’ve been informed it was only after Coach Faulkner had put the whole team on the bench. In essence, you were doing your best to protect your team.”
Not one of my smarter choices. “That’s right, sir.”
“An independent investigation has been carried out and found everything the student had informed us was true. She was very thorough and was keen for your name to be cleared of any wrongdoing.”
“Was this student Anastasia Allen by any chance, sir?”
He shrugs, but there is a slight smile on his lips. “The student in question asked to remain anonymous, but I wanted to see you face to face to reassure you the incident will be cleared from your college records. I understand you’re graduating soon, but for your information, and any concerned parties, Mr. Carlisle has transferred to UCLA, effective immediately.”
Oh.
“I’m sure Aaron will be very happy there. Is that everything?” I ask carefully, keen to escape on a good note.
“Yes, that’s all. Oh, and congratulations on your championship win.”
I give him an appreciative nod and get my ass out of there as quickly as I can. I should have known Stassie wouldn’t let Aaron go unpunished.
UBER SLUT
NATE HAWKINS: You’re in trouble.
UBER SLUT: Am I the sacrifice?
UBER SLUT: I can’t be. I am very busy and important
NATE HAWKINS: You went to Skinner.
UBER SLUT: That doesn’t sound like something I would do.
NATE HAWKINS: You went to Skinner and you snitched on Aaron
NATE HAWKINS: All because you wanted to defend my honor.
UBER SLUT: You don’t have any honor *eye roll emoji*
UBER SLUT: What you did to me last night is famously not honorable at all.
NATE HAWKINS: You liked it.
UBER SLUT: Of course I did. I don’t have any honor either.
NATE HAWKINS: Aaron transferred to UCLA
UBER SLUT: Shut up!! Really?
NATE HAWKINS: Yup. Skinner just told me.
UBER SLUT: I’d have preferred somewhere in Alaska, but not Maple Hills will do.
Knowing I’m not going to be here next year has been a hard pill to swallow, but knowing she isn’t going to have to face him at the rink or bump into him at parties makes me feel a whole lot better.
The next stop on the list is over to the sports building to see Coach. He’s eating what looks like an everything bagel when I stroll in. His eyes immediately narrow, and I can see him shouting at me in his head. He eventually swallows and sort of half grunts at me. “I don’t even get peace to eat my breakfast alone anymore. Between you lot and my daughters, I am graying prematurely.”
I look at his completely shaved head, nodding along in agreement. “You wanted to see me?”
He wipes his hands on a napkin and pushes his half-eaten bagel to one side. “We need to discuss your replacement as captain. It’s time to start looking to hand the title over, like Lewinski did with you. Have you thought about it?”
I’ve been thinking about who will replace me since I got benched last year. Not being on the ice gave me time to look at the team, watch them the way Faulkner and Robbie do, and I saw a lot. “You’re going to laugh…”
“I don’t laugh but go on.”
“I think Henry would make a great captain,” I say honestly. “He’s calm; once I’m gone, he’s going to be the best player on the team; he’ll always be honest; and he’s not going to fuck around. He’s going to be a junior, which means the team gets two years of the same captain.”
He thinks on it for a minute, humming to himself quietly. “Okay. Let me speak to Robbie, see what his opinion is.”
“We’ve already talked about it, and he agrees Turner is the best choice.”
Robbie will be staying at UCMH to do his master’s, so he’ll be continuing to coach the team. Since the assistant coach is normally a paid faculty position, we’re all hoping when he’s done with school, the job will be handed to him.
A couple of weeks ago, over a shit load of beers, we sat and battled out who should succeed me. Henry has grown in confidence so much in the time he’s lived with us, so I think he could handle the pressure that comes with being a leader. Aside from that, nobody can argue against him being the best player.
“Let me think on it,” Faulkner says, reaching for his bagel, signifying it’s my time to get out and leave him alone. “I’ll see you at practice later.”
Since I’m already on campus, I take a trip to the library, grab a few books I need to study for my finals, and head home.
The house is full when I get back, far too many hockey players taking up space on all my furniture. “Do you guys not have your own houses to go to? Instead of being here eating all my food and stinking out my living room?”
I get a handful of middle fingers, the odd grunt, and finally a response from Kris. “Your girl promised us pad thai.”
JJ and Anastasia did the Vietnamese cooking class a few weeks ago, and since then, this place has been like a restaurant. They’re determined to try as many different dishes and cuisines as they can. They cook side by side,
secretly competing with each other to see who makes the best main or starter, or who makes the best side dishes. Then we sit down to eat, and they sit there smugly, enjoying all of the compliments the guys throw in their direction.
I don’t mention to Stas that I’m pretty sure Bobby and Mattie live exclusively off oven pizzas, so they’re going to keep showing up for food long after JJ and I have graduated.
I push through all the bodies and mess in my living room and make my way over to the kitchen. Stassie is chomping on some bean sprouts, watching the wok very intensely. “Hey, bub.” She smiles. “Food is nearly ready.”
I tilt her head back, capturing her lips with mine, enjoying the way her body immediately sinks into me. “You know you don’t have to feed everyone, right? I don’t expect you to.”
She giggles and gets back to the wok. “You know I love it. It’s like having loads of kids, but instead of being cute and small, they’re, like, super big and drink and curse. It’s nice for you guys to spend time together since some of you won’t be here soon. Thai seems to be everyone’s favorite— they showed up immediately.”
“Anastasia Allen, do you have baby fever?”
Her jaw drops and her cheeks blush pink, eyes blinking repeatedly like she can’t believe I accused her of that. “No! I’m being a good girlfriend and roommate.”
I can’t help but laugh. She’s so fucking cute sometimes I don’t know what to do with her. “You’re the best girlfriend and definitely the best roommate. I lov—”
“What was that about the best roommate?” JJ interrupts, pushing me out of the way of the stove. “Get out of our kitchen, Hawkins. There is culinary excellence happening here, and you’re getting in the way with your unseasoned vibes.”
Stas watches me with her eyebrows raised as I back out of the kitchen. She mouths, Unseasoned vibes at me, trying not to laugh as JJ starts giving her instructions for plating up. I watch—from a safe distance—as they transfer everything into serving bowls and put it on the beer pong/dining room table. “Food!” JJ shouts at the top of his lungs, and the rest of the guys immediately start scrambling toward the den.
Sabrina and Robbie are already seated at the table, securing the best spots, and the guys filter in, eyes widening at the selection in front of them. The room is filled with the sound of clanging cutlery and appreciative uhms, ahs, and oohs. Stassie brings the final plate of egg rolls out, and I can’t keep my eyes off her as she stands, looking around everyone and smiling to herself.
The girl who would only eat salad, didn’t want a relationship, and couldn’t stand hockey players is nowhere to be seen.
She squeezes herself into the seat beside me and fills her plate full of food, groaning happily when she has a mouthful of noodles. She slaps at Bobby’s hand when he tries to steal an egg roll from her plate, scowling at him to the point he flinches. Her face softens as she turns to face me and finds me laughing at the interaction. She shrugs, not sorry in the slightest she’s added to Bobby’s fear of her. “Egg rolls are my favorite.”
“You’re my favorite,” I whisper, leaning in to kiss her flushed cheek. “Even if I had crab hands?”
“Even if you had crab hands, Anastasia.”
