Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 104498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
I point at him. “No. That is not catching on, and it’s not a thing.”
“No problem, Big D.”
Another protest almost passes my lips, but then I really think about it. “Hmm, actually I can live with that.”
“Of course, you’d like that one.”
“Naturally.”
Jet’s still laughing when Ollie and Lennon appear out of nowhere.
“Did you guys get Matt’s message?” Ollie asks.
I cock my head. “Message? I thought we weren’t allowed phones.”
Ollie hands his over. “Turned off all social media. But apparently, it’s time to put our money where our mouths are.”
There’s a photo of all the others outside an ice-skating rink. They’ve captioned it “May the best athletes win.”
“They’re in Suva, and they found an ice-skating rink, so they’ve rented the whole place out for us tomorrow.”
“They’re seriously challenging us to a game of hockey? For real?”
“I’m assuming there’s stipulations, but yup.”
“Oh, I am so there.” I give Ollie his phone back, and he raises his other hand for a fist bump.
“What are you guys up to?” Lennon asks.
“We just had some lunch. Now we’re going swimming.” How Jet manages to make that sound dirty, I have no idea.
“You guys were going to fuck in the pool, weren’t you?” Ollie asks.
“Eww. I refuse to swim in jizz,” Lennon says.
Jet squeezes his eyes shut and mutters to himself. “It’s too easy a shot. Do not take it.”
Lennon throws his towel at Jet, smacking him in the face. “No fucking in the pool.”
“Do handjobs count in that?” Jet asks.
“Yes,” Ollie and Lennon say at the same time.
I climb into the pool, using the steps off to the side. “You guys are no fun.”
“Jet’s a bad influence on you,” Ollie says.
“Why do people think you’re all humble and innocent?” Jet asks. “The things you’ve done to me—”
Lennon blocks his ears. Ollie looks horrified.
I laugh. “I take it back. You guys are fun.”
Jet runs and jumps into the pool, cannonballing right next to me.
I flick the water from my hair and glare at Jet. “You’re asking for it.”
“What if I am?”
I pounce, but I’ll give him one thing—the rock star is fast. He manages to evade me but not for long. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I pull him under with me.
Bad idea. Skin on skin, his tiny swimsuit taunting me, and visions of the last twelve hours of being in bed with him, my body thinks it’s time for another round.
“Is this all you two are gonna do all day?” Ollie asks when Jet and I come up for air.
Jet wraps himself around me. “Nah. Seeing as we’re not allowed to fuck in here, I reckon we’ll be leaving soon.”
“Really soon,” I agree.
Ollie smiles this time.
“What?” I ask him.
“Nothing, man. You look happy.”
Jet and I share a glance, and his lips pull tight. He turns to Ollie. “Well, duh. Sex makes you happy.”
I’m a little offended he thinks him making me happy has only got to do with sex.
I grab Jet’s hand and pull him toward the steps of the pool. Turning to Ollie and Lennon, I ask, “Can you guys cover for us tonight at dinner? We’re not going to make it.”
Jet’s in obvious agreement because he walks right past his things and heads in the direction of our cabins.
Yeah, he makes me happy. Even if he’s not ready to accept that.
As soon as we enter the ice rink the following morning, I take a deep breath.
Ah, there’s the smell of home … with a touch of coconut. Seriously, how does everything smell like that here?
I’m used to smelling the ice with a side of man sweat that no one should ever have to endure.
We’re fitted with shitty skates, and there’s a bucket of old hockey pads and equipment for us to use.
We leave the pads for now because Ollie and I can’t get out there fast enough. By the end of the season, I need a break from everything hockey, but a month later, I crave flying across freshly resurfaced ice again.
I chase Ollie around the rink, and we both skate around the others who try to get their bearings.
“Sorry, who are the ultimate athletes again?” I taunt Damon. “Baseball players, right? I think that’s what you said.”
Ollie approaches and uses a hockey stop to shave ice all over us. Maddox flinches as if he expects Ollie not to stop in time.
“We never said we had to be good at your sport,” Damon says. “Just that we could manage to do it.”
I skate backward while Damon and Maddox push forward, holding on to each other for dear life. “Is this you managing it?”
I’m beginning to wonder if most of this group’s communication is expressed through our middle fingers because two are pointed my way.
“You don’t have to worry about us, but those two seem to have it handled.” Damon nods in Lennon and Noah’s direction. Matt’s holding on to the side, too scared to push off.