Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Cameron: So, you’re saying I should get in the comments and cuss out the girls who are asking why you didn’t forgo the shorts?
I chuckle at that, putting guards on my skates before hanging them up. I pick up my phone to answer her back, and man, I’m sore. I just had a grueling practice since we lost our last game and Coach is truly in his feelings. For good reason. We took stupid penalties, and no one wanted to protect the barn. I’m not a fucking defensemen, yet I took a nasty puck to my thigh, blocking a shot to help Odder. We deserved the practice, and hopefully my teammates will wake up.
Cameron knows I’m at practice and probably doesn’t expect me to text her back so quickly, but I don’t like making her wait.
Because I don’t want to wait to write her back.
Me: Would you like to stake your claim on me?
Cameron: The claim is made, and anyone who doesn’t know that isn’t my problem.
Cameron: All I gotta make sure of is that you know.
Cameron: Do you know I have staked my claim on you, Benson Jeannot?
My stomach clenches before I pull off my practice jersey and throw it to the floor. As I unsnap my chest gear, I write her back.
Me: I am proud to be claimed, my beauty.
Cameron: Like I said, we both know, and that’s all that matters.
I couldn’t agree more.
Before I can tell her that, Coach’s voice roars through the locker room. Everyone jumps—hell, even I do—as he calls out, “Jeannot, come here.”
Ahfuckbuddy.
I stand on shaking legs, and I’m thankful for the coolness under my feet since my soles are burning up from skating so hard. “Yes, sir,” I call as I text Cameron.
Me: Since this is true, maybe you’ll tell me what your little bet with Callie is?
Cameron: As I’ve said the last six hundred times you’ve asked, nope.
Me: Fine, I’ll ask again at dinner.
Cameron: Oh, how I can’t wait to say no once more.
I chuckle deeply as I put my phone down, ready to get her alone. It’s the first time neither of us has anything going on, and we’re going out. Just us.
On our first date.
I’m so excited, it’s sickening.
I grin to myself as I slip my feet into my slides and head toward the office, even though my legs are jelly. I turn the corner, and right before I enter, I notice that Dawson is sitting in front of his dad’s desk. Ahfuckme, what’s he doing here? I push the door open and poke my head in. “You needed me, Coach?”
Coach Sinclair nods. “You know I do. I called for you.”
“I was being polite.”
He doesn’t even look at me. “Being polite would be your ass in the seat, Jeannot.”
Yay. I go in and notice that Dawson isn’t snickering. Oh, he’s in deep shit too. That’s awesome. I sit down beside him and lean on my legs. “Sorry, I hadn’t hit the showers yet.”
“Can’t when your nose is pressed to your phone twenty-four seven.”
“Aw, come on, Coach. You know how it is when you’ve got yourself a new hot girlfriend who keeps texting you.”
His eyes cut to mine. “My hot girl didn’t want anything to do with me, beat my ass on the ice over and over again, so I married her.”
“As one does,” I admit with a grin. “Mrs. Sinclair is a lucky lady.”
Around a cough, Dawson murmurs, “Kiss-ass.”
I chuckle at that as Coach looks between us. “Listen, I’m gonna be straight with ya, okay?”
I nod slowly while trying to figure out what the hell I did. I’ve been on my best behavior, I think. “Did you need more Cheerios?”
But then I do shit like that, and I wonder why I’m in my coach’s office.
His blazing green gaze cuts to mine, and I give him a wide smile. “Just asking. I care greatly about your health.”
“Anyway,” he says sharply. “I want to move Dawson to your line since ReVerti is out for the year.”
That was a lot of information in one sentence, and while Dawson coming to my line makes me want to puke, I am focused on the latter part of that statement.
I blink. “Sorry, what about ReVerti?”
He looks up at me. “ReVerti is out.”
I literally was just on the ice with him, and he was fine. “What happened?”
“Drugs,” is all he says, as if that’s a good enough answer for me.
“Taking or selling?”
“Both,” he says, holding my gaze. “And I hope that stays between us. Though, I’m sure it’ll get around. Maybe if you’d get off your phone and stop texting your girlfriend, you’d be more aware of what’s going on.”
I would flash a smirk at the mention of Cameron, but I’m kinda floored about ReVerti… And shit, Dawson is coming up to my line. I guess he’s been working to get his ice time up and he’s an okay shot, but I can’t stand the little dickhead. I run my hands down my face, inwardly groaning as I ask, “And we have to move Sinclair up?”