Chapter 24 #2
It was funny that a women's hockey team like ours would be beefing with the men's teams of other colleges, but they were so obnoxious that they'd managed to drag us into their beef with the Rink Runners as well. As if we'd needed anymore testosterone-fueled bastards running up in our space.
Ugh.
“Well, I don't care who it is,” Rina announced, crossing her arms. “We're better than all of them anyway.”
“Damn right," Mason agreed, turning to fist-bump her. And she let him. My brow arched at that. “But seriously, how many teams are we talking about here?”
Oh? Were they buddies now? I could swear she’d made indirect threats of throwing his phone in a ditch a few hours ago.
“Could be anywhere from one to five,” Gina mused, tapping her fingers on the table. “This place is huge. They could be housing multiple programs—”
“Five teams?” Matt's eyes gleamed with something dangerous. “Five chances to show we're the best.”
“Or five teams watching us embarrass ourselves,” Dylan muttered, but there was a competitive edge creeping into his voice. “I guess we better take this retreat seriously.”
“I'm placing bets now,” Logan announced, pulling out his phone. “Twenty bucks says it's at least three teams, and one of them is definitely Riverside.”
“You're on,” Sarah shot back.
The speculation built like a wave, voices overlapping.
I felt Lively shift beside me, his warmth a constant distraction even as my mind raced through possibilities. Other teams meant other competition. Other eyes watching us. Other chances to prove ourselves…or to fall flat on our faces.
“So?” I found myself asking, turning slightly to look at him.
“What?” He drawled back, his jaw resting in the offering of his upturned palm as he watched me.
I was just going to ignore the fact that he was staring. The asshole was no doubt trying to get under my skin right now, and I wasn’t going to let him. “ So , what do you think? Who else do you think is here?”
His eyes were lazy when they met mine. “Does it matter?” he asked, voice pitched low enough that only I could hear. “It’s not like there’s any one of them who can beat us anyway.”
Huh? Way to sound conceited. I mean, sure, I thought that too, but hearing him say it out loud like that made me want to pick on him, for some reason.
Coach Hawkin’s whistle cut through the speculation like a blade and stole my chance.
“Enough!” She barked. “You'll find out who else is here when you need to know. For now, focus on yourselves. Focus on your partner. Because tomorrow morning at oh-six-hundred, that high-ropes course isn't going to climb itself.”
A collective groan echoed through the room, but underneath it was something else. Anticipation. The kind of electric tension that came before a big game. Everyone was charged up for the week ahead.
But I, on the other hand, only had one question battering against the walls of my mind, demanding an answer.
So, I turned back to Lively, the question clawing its way through my throat to rest on my tongue. “Hey, what's your angle?”
That little shit hadn’t answered the damn question.
I tapped my fingers against my elbow as I walked down the path leading to the woods.
It was an hour and thirty minutes to lights out, and I wanted to go check out the high-ropes course set-up.
After a brief talk with Coach Hawkins, I'd been left with a bitter taste in my mouth and the distinct feeling that I was somehow being watched by every adult in this damn place.
"Do you really think we don't know what you guys get up to, you little..." Coach had started, her eyes narrowing to slits that could've cut glass. "Shape up, Baleman. You're Captain because I believed you to be level headed. Don't make me tell you again."
Those words kinda pissed me off. Not even up to ten hours into this camp and I was already getting dressed down like some rookie who couldn't tie their own skates. But the worst part was that I knew she was right, so I couldn’t be fully pissed about it.
I knew better than to think that Lively had ratted me out. That bastard would rather bully me about it than snitch. Which only made me feel worse.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath, shoving my hands deeper into my jacket pockets as the gravel crunched beneath my feet. This was exactly what I'd been trying to avoid—this weird, twisted knot of obligation and guilt that seemed to tighten every time I looked at him.
It was as if he was my personal jinx . It'd been fine when I only had to tolerate him from a distance, even when we'd shared a rink. But now, it felt like all my bad luck was piling up on my head one after the other the more I entertained his bullshit.
I needed to screw my head back on straight. Right now .
The path to the high-ropes course wound through thick forest, the trees creating a canopy overhead that filtered moonlight into silver patterns across the ground.
Night sounds surrounded me—crickets, the distant hoot of an owl, the rustle of small creatures in the underbrush.
It was peaceful in a way that let my mind settle, and focus on what was important.
Finding an edge ahead of tomorrow’s competition. Winning . If I could win at this, then I would be able to prove to myself that my brain was still screwed on straight.
I reached the clearing and immediately felt my competitive instincts kick in.
The course was more intimidating than I'd expected; a series of obstacles strung between massive pines, rope bridges swaying slightly in the breeze, zip lines stretching into darkness.
It looked like something designed by someone who enjoyed watching people suffer.
I could already see the delight shining in Coach’s eyes ahead of tomorrow’s exercise. I was already cataloging potential weak points, analyzing which obstacles would require teamwork versus individual skill, when I spotted him.
“You idiot!” The words exploded out of me before I could stop them.