Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 90768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Asher skates to me. “I take it back. I will buy you endless drinks for a month if you beat me to the hat trick.”
The pressure’s getting to him.
“Hey.” I backhand him with my glove. “We’ve got this. Let’s do it.”
Only, it’s easier said than done. UConn’s defense is stronger than they were in second period somehow, and even when we do get lucky and I’m checked into the boards after I’ve passed the puck, we can’t pull off a goal during the power play.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.
Even Jacobs’s and Beck’s move that won us the championship last season doesn’t work this time.
Time is dwindling, and I hate overtime so much. By the time we get to that point, we’re all exhausted, and one single tiny mistake could be the difference between walking away with the win and walking away heartbroken. We need to end it now.
As if by some miracle, I get an opening, and I don’t hesitate. The rest of the arena fades away as I block everything out except my stick, the puck, and the two-hundred-pound goalie in my way.
Asher comes up on my peripheral, and I fake a pass and shoot.
Their goalie is too busy looking for the puck where it isn’t, and it flies past him.
We revel in a small celebration before we have to get back to it. Now to run out the clock.
Asher has other ideas. At the face-off, he passes to Jacobs, who passes back to Asher. He shoots, and bam, Asher shows me up with a goal of his own right before the buzzer sounds.
I skate over to him and hug the shit out of him. “You couldn’t fucking give that to me, could you?”
“I changed my mind again. I decided you couldn’t take all the glory.”
I hit the back of his helmet playfully. “You still owe me drinks.”
He lifts his chin. “You earned them.”
The locker room is rowdier than usual, with good reason. The team is going nuts over a double hat trick.
The coaches are proud too. “Tonight’s game is one for the history books, boys. In all my years of coaching, I’ve never had two players score a hat trick in one game. You should be proud of yourselves.”
Asher’s cubby is on the other side of the locker room, so we air high-five each other. Westly looks at Asher like a proud father, and then we all head for the showers.
“McIntyre’s,” I say to everyone. “You all have to be there.”
There’s a chance the lower classmen will be carded, but under twenty-ones are allowed in the bar, they’re just not allowed to drink.
We all finish showering and changing and head for the exit. Just outside the doors to the player’s exit, Seth and Zach are waiting, and I swear my entire being lights up.
I don’t even give my boyfriend a chance to acknowledge me or give a shit that I haven’t told the rest of the team that I’m dating a guy yet. I march right up to him, wrap my arms around him, and I kiss him harder than I possibly ever have.
He lets out a shocked noise which I swallow and keep kissing him.
That’s when I hear, “Is everyone on this team fucking gay?”
I break away from Seth and turn to Henrikson. “If we want to get technical, Jacobs is the only gay one.”
Jacobs calls out as he walks past, “Nope. I’m bi again! I think.”
“He’s mine, that’s all that matters,” Beck says as he drags him away.
It sucks Jacobs is still struggling to find the label that fits, and maybe Beck’s right, he doesn’t have to find it. I’m a lot more comfortable in my skin now I realize I’m attracted to more than one gender. If I had to guess, I’d say Jacobs is probably a five point five on the Kinsey scale, so it’s probably harder for him to acknowledge his bi-ness.
“It’s goddamn contagious,” Henrikson says.
“You’re so right,” I say dryly. “If you can’t beat ’em, beat ’em off instead.”
Seth groans. “That’s not the saying.”
“But it works,” I say.
“I’ll pass. Thanks.” Henrikson lifts his chin. “Good game though.”
Honestly, it’s not clear if he’s being homophobic, is shocked, or he actually doesn’t care. He had no problem with Grant or Jacobs and Beck, but I’m guessing another Mountain Lion turning to the queer side might be too much for him.
“Sorry about him,” I say to Seth.
Seth shrugs. “Eh. Closed-minded assholes will always miss out on the fun things. You had an amazing game.”
“No shit. That was the best game I think I’ve ever played. Did you see Asher and me? We were dynamite.”
Seth’s attention goes behind me. “Yeah. You were.” Before I can turn to see who’s he’s eyeing, Seth steps forward and kisses me again, and I’d bet all the money I have in my wallet it’s Asher.