Chapter 3 #2
Fuck it.
I answer.
“Hey, Dad,” I say with a fixed grin. I’m not on camera, but there’s a high possibility he is, which means I’ve got to be on my best behavior.
“Scotty!” I pull my ear away as his voice booms through the speaker. He’s so happy to hear me that I immediately feel bad about all the things I was just thinking. “I’m so glad you answered.”
He’s the happiest, most supportive dad I could ask for, which is sometimes infuriating, and something I’d never admit out loud because how fucking ungrateful does it sound?
Why can’t he be like other athlete dads, who push their sons so hard they rebel?
What would I even be rebelling against?
His endless, unshakeable positivity?
It sounds almost as pathetic as I feel.
I didn’t earn this.
I’m not a five-time Stanley Cup winner. I don’t hold the record for the highest goals scored. I didn’t marry an Olympic ice dancer.
None of these achievements are mine, yet I’m so far in my father’s shadow, I can’t find anything for myself.
“How are the first few weeks of college treating you? Met any nice girls yet?”
Plenty. Only one I actually want to see more of, but I ruined that with my metaphorical thirst trap.
“The dining hall lady is pretty nice,” I say as I move away from the building. “She always gives me extra bacon.”
I don’t even dare mention Laura or the naked fountain incident.
Like Erik, he’s too optimistic for his own good.
He’d think it was fate, and then no doubt come down here and try to help me.
Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t say no to my father’s advice.
He got my mom to marry him after a hate-fueled first meeting, so he’s clearly got some kind of magic touch.
It’s just that he comes with cameras and attention.
Judging from the look on Laura’s face when she realized people were filming the fun run, I doubt she wants to be the next storyline in Hendricks Unchecked.
After she left, I charmed my way through the crowd of people, asking to see their videos and kindly requesting they delete any with Laura in them. They all seemed pretty okay with it, as long as I took a picture with them, which was a small price to pay for her privacy.
I’ve also been monitoring social media and thankfully, only blurry clips of our naked asses have made the cut.
“That’s my boy! See, the Hendricks charm works anywhere.”
Not in fountains, apparently.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“Hey, listen. Now that you’ve settled in, Jerry wanted to maybe do a segment with you next week. Kind of a ‘Day in the life’ sort of thing since you aren’t appearing much in this season of the show.”
Jerry…the only person who speaks to my dad more than me. He’s been the producer of the show since it started. The first two seasons were about his last two years in the NHL. Amelia and I weren’t in it at all, but then the mission creep started.
We were asked to say a few words about our father, then it turned into filming a couple of scenes. Unfortunately, my last two years of high school became major plot points, and my father was so caught up with pleasing the network and Jerry that he didn’t see how much I hated it.
“It’ll be quick and light,” he says when I don’t immediately say yes. “We’ll follow you to practice, grab a few interviews with your teammates. Bet they’d love that. Sound good?”
No. Say fucking no for the first time in your life.
This isn’t your dream. This is his.
Stop living in his fucking shadow for once.
“Uh…sure. Whatever you think.”
Coward.
“That’s the spirit! I’ve already signed off on it with Coach McKibbon and the Covey U dean. They’re both excited to be featured.”
“I bet they are,” I mutter.
Covey U isn’t exactly known for its hockey team.
That’s one of the reasons I chose it. Since I already have a contract with the New York Vets, I don’t need to fight for attention—I’m going to get it later.
This is a college with no TV deals, which I thought meant I’d have a chance to enjoy my time here quietly before the madness that is the NHL.
Should’ve known the circus would follow me.
“What was that?” he asks.
I clear my throat. “Nothing. Just saying I’ll need to make sure the dorm’s clean before they roll in.”
“Perfect. That’s my guy—always prepared.” He pauses. “You doing okay, though? You sound tired.”
I hesitate. He’s opening it up for me to say something, but I can imagine his disappointed face if I do. It’s one afternoon. I can handle one freaking afternoon to make my father and the college happy.
“It’s just been a long week, that’s all.”
“Ah, make sure you’re resting. And, hey—don’t forget to have fun, huh? Remember, you’re twenty, not forty. Meet people. Date a little. Don’t overthink things. Life’s more than hockey.”
Says the guy whose entire life revolves around the sport.
“Yeah. I will.”
“Attaboy. Alright, I’ll let you go, but if you want to talk about anything, you know I’m here for you.”
“I know. Love you, Dad.”
“Love you more. I’ll see you next week,” I respond automatically, even as I feel the weight of his expectations crushing down on me.
I end the call automatically, even as I feel the weight of his expectations crushing down on me. Then I slump onto the nearest bench, dropping my head into my hands.
Fucking cameras. Fucking TV show. Fucking expectations.
What I wouldn’t give for just one day—just one damn day—where I’m not a Hendricks, but just… Scotty. All I want is to be a regular freshman trying to figure shit out like everyone else.
My phone buzzes with a text. I hesitantly check it, half-expecting some ‘inspiration’ from my dad on how to act like a college student while ignoring the fact everyone knows who I am.
It's not… it's worse.
You've been added to group: 'Operation seduce Duchess of Drench without her realizing.'
I press the button to leave, but I stop when I see the sheer number of teammates he’s adding.
Everyone. Absolutely everyone on the hockey team is in this group.
Brooks: Is there a reason why you've added us all to your latest fanfic update?
Erik: Fanfic? This has nothing to do with my Baseball Bachelor blog, and everything to do with Scotty.
Cade: If you’re planning something illegal, it stops now. I don’t want you getting the hockey team in trouble with your antics, Steele.
Erik: It’s not illegal, it’s a romantic plan to get Scotty’s crush to forgive him. Step one: accidental proximity. We engineer ‘chance’ encounters. Dining hall, campus bookstore, laundry room—bonus points if she's folding embarrassing underwear.
Scotty: I’m not stalking her.
Erik: You're right. We’re going to do that for you. Besides, it’s not stalking if she falls in love at the end. Step two: plant emotional landmines. Niche compliments. Eye contact that lingers. Make her laugh, but like, wounded-animal laugh. It should be vulnerable, and raw.
Alex: Why do I actually want to see how far he takes this?
Erik: Step three: bake something and leave it outside her door. No note. Just vibes.
Scotty: I don’t bake.
Erik: I bake. You’ll deliver. You’ll be like a sexy, mysterious muffin man. Girls eat that shit up.
Brooks: If we do it, maybe Erik will stop.
Scotty: You’re all insane.
Erik: And you’re in love. Let me help you win, Mr. Stanley Cup.
I sigh, putting my phone on silent and shoving it into my pocket. I’ll deal with them and their stupid ideas later. It’s not like they’ll change anything between her and me, anyway.
Tomorrow will be the first time I see her again after the incident, and I have no idea how she's going to react.
Will she even look at me? Or will I forever be the naked psycho who assaulted her with my hockey stick?
Why do I even care so much? She’s just a girl who goes to my college. There are plenty of girls who go here. Maybe I should take my father’s advice and date.
Only, there aren’t any other girls reading The Princess Bride, or treating me like I mean absolutely nothing to them. Or have lips that I think about kissing to the point I forget what our lecturer is saying.
She’ll probably ignore me tomorrow… she should, but I’m not ready for that to be the end. I just hope I can at least apologize to her without accidentally assaulting her with another limb.