Chapter 5
“Winner is exempt from dishes this week,” Alex announces as we line up at center ice.
I snort. “Didn’t we all agree we’d do our own dishes when we moved into the dorm?”
He deadpans, “The dishes piling up in our kitchen say otherwise.”
“Those aren’t mine.”
“They’re everyone’s at this point,” he fires back. “There’s a fork in the sink that’s been there so long I think it’s developed a personality.”
“That’s Erik’s fork,” I argue.
Alex scoffs. “Erik doesn’t use forks. He eats like a raccoon with opposable thumbs.”
“That tracks,” I admit.
Alex bumps my shoulder. “So, loser does dishes. Winner gets to pretend we’re functional adults for one more week.”
“That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Shut up and skate,” he says, crouching into position.
I huff a laugh, drop my weight forward, and the second Coach McKibbon blows the whistle, we take off.
Alex is fast—annoyingly so—but I push harder, driving my legs until they burn. We’re neck and neck, blades scraping, ice spitting under us. I fling myself into the finish, slamming into the boards a fraction ahead of him.
Alex groans behind me. “I should’ve known I didn’t stand a chance. You’ve been on fire since we got here. It’s annoying.”
“Can’t dim greatness, buddy,” I wink, happy that the effort I’ve been putting in to prove I’m more than just a nepo baby has started to pay off. I might’ve fucked up during the Fun Run, but I’m proving myself in practice and our games, which is more important.
“Hey, Hendricks,” Brooks calls out.
Brooks tips his bearded chin toward me before pointing his stick over to the stands and making his way toward me.
“There's someone here for you.”
I groan, already bracing myself. Perfect.
Dad’s back for round two this week, either ready to film some quick segment or to talk to Coach McKibbon about my progress.
I’ve told him he needs to chill, and that every time he shows up, it undermines my performance with my teammates, but sometimes I don’t think he hears me.
Not when said teammates are acting so happy to see him and get advice from him.
Pushing off the boards, I keep my head down, forcing a smile I don’t feel.
He just wants to be here for you.
Still, there are times I wish he’d accepted that damn broadcasting gig with Chally Sports when he retired instead of this stupid reality show.
There’s no denying his personality is made for TV, but he said he didn't want it.
That he needed a few years off to let his body rest before going anywhere near a rink again.
Odd reason considering he won’t leave my damn rink alone.
Brooks skates past and slaps my shoulder. “Don’t look so anxious, man. It’s not your dad.”
That makes me look up.
“It’s not?”
“It’s a pretty girl.” He lifts his brows, smiling.
Is that supposed to make me feel better?
Because honestly, I can’t decide what’s worse: my dad showing up to cheer me on like I’m twelve, or another girl hoping we’re destined soulmates because she found some viral compatibility test online.
It’s happened more times than I can count.
Last week, a senior had a laminated printout explaining how our zodiac signs aligned perfectly. She somehow knew my exact birth time.
I didn’t ask how she knew.
“Shit, Hendricks,” Erik calls out, amazement dripping from his voice. “Am I dreaming, or is that the girl you’re obsessed with—watching you like she wants to kill you?”
Girl I’m obsessed with…?
He’s staring toward the stands with the same awe he had the day my dad walked in. I follow his gaze and—
“Fuck!”
My feet slide out from under me. Thankfully, Alex and Brooks are close enough to grab my arms before I make a monumental fool of myself… again.
“Everything okay there, buddy?” Alex asks, way too amused.
“Yeah. Everything is fine,” I grumble, convincing no one.
Fuck. What I wouldn’t give for it to be my dad or a fangirl instead of her. Laura is standing there, and her eyes are focused on me.
My balls shrivel in my compression pants.
What the hell is she doing here?
We were meeting in the library after practice.
“Pfft. He's not fine.” Erik skates around us. “His girlfriend is in the stands, and he's terrified she’s about to realize he’s the worst skater on the team.”
“Will you keep it down?” I hiss, snapping my head toward him. She already thinks I’m an idiot, and I’d rather not have Erik confirm it.
Erik snorts and gestures toward her. “Don’t worry, man. I think she’s already figured it out. That’s why she’s looking at you like that.”
I glance back at her hesitantly.
Her arms are crossed. Her expression is pure murder. Honestly, accepting my inevitable death might be easier than dealing with whatever this is.
“Wait, is she your girlfriend now?” Brooks asks as he steadies me fully. “Last I heard, the only way you knew how to get her wet was by shoving her into a fountain.”
Am I ever going to live that down?
“That’s no—” I start, but Erik jumps in.
“Oh, we’re interested now?” he asks Brooks sarcastically. “What happened to being ‘above’ all this, Lumberbae?”
“Did you just call me Lumberbae?” Brooks asks, his thick brows furrowed.
“I did.”
“Why?” Brooks looks personally offended.
“If it’s not clear to you yet, then I suggest you take a long hard look in the mirror,” Erik answers, elbowing Alex in a move that I assume is supposed to garner support for the new nickname. I’m sure Brooks likes that as much as I like Mr. Stanley Cup.
Alex gives Erik nothing.
I skate away from their nonsense, Alex following close behind.
“Did you talk to her?” he asks quietly. “Is she here to watch you?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, “but if she hears us talking like this, she’ll drown me in the fountain.”
“Why?” he asks, genuinely confused.
“Because she still hates him,” Erik answers, swooping back in like an unwanted commentator. “Mostly because Hendricks refuses to use any of my plans from Operation: Drip Her Down Gently.”
“That wasn’t the name,” Alex argues. “I thought it was Operation: Seduce the Duchess of Drench Without Her Realizing She’s Being Seduced.”
Erik waves that off. “Doesn’t matter. End result? Scotty gets the girl of his dreams. He’s just too scared to use my tactics. So I might have to intervene.”
“Please wait until after my English Lit grade comes in,” I deadpan, staring at Laura again. “My father would not understand how I failed out of my favorite class, and I don’t want it to become a talking point on his TV show.”
She's still glaring—and I can't deny the look sends a small thrill down my spine—but it's not just about wanting to sleep with her. I’m not that kind of guy. I don’t sleep around. I like commitment, and somehow…everything in my body wants to commit to her.
I have no idea why.
Maybe it’s the pinched, furious look she gives me every single time our eyes meet.
Maybe it’s her freckles, scattered across her nose like a dusting of sugar even though she’s
anything but sweet to me.
No. It’s something beneath all that fire—a softness she’s trying really, really hard to bury.
I’m mid-mental spiral when Alex snorts beside me.
“Oh, wow. I didn’t realize you were in love with her,” Alex says, nudging my ribs with his stick.
“I’m not in love with her,” I answer honestly. “I’m curious.”
He shakes his head. “Yeah, sure. That's why you're looking at her like she’s a three-year contract extension before your actual deal kicks in.”
“She’s better than that.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can vet them, but it's okay. It's not like the guys don't know I'm into her.
Case in point, Alex raises a brow, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. We both know the guys already picked up on my thing for her five disasters ago.
I lift a glove and offer Laura a wave and a smile.
She does not wave back.
Her lips purse. Her brows slam together. Her whole aura radiates: I will end you.
Maybe she doesn’t realize it’s me under all the gear and helmet.
She raises a finger, curling it in a ‘come hither’ motion, but it’s not in a sexy way.
I drop my hand. “I guess I should go over there and see what I’ve done wrong now.”
Alex slaps me on the shoulder. “Good luck.”
I pull my helmet off and lower my head as I skate over to her, not wanting to accidentally offend her with the beaming smile I can’t help but have when she’s around.
Erik starts talking to Alex and Brooks, and the rink makes it easy to hear.
“Operation: Forced Proximity is back on, boys. I think we can get her to bid on him at Puck Me, I’m Yours—”
“No, you can’t,” I shout over my shoulder without even turning. “Stop making plans about my life!”
Honestly, if these idiots truly believe Laura would voluntarily bid on me in front of the entire campus, they’re dumber than I thought, and that’s saying something.
When I finally get to the boards, I push through the door and head over to her. Her arms are still crossed, her lips are still pinched, and her eyes roam my chest in a way that makes me think she’s imagining all the ways she could kill me right now even though I’m the one with blades for feet.
Fuck. Why is that look kind of hot on her?
“Hey, Laura,” I drawl. Her jaw flexes, and her eyes close. “What are you doing here so early? Did you see what’s in the back of the book and come watch me? Because if so, I'm honored.”
I’m trying to play it cool, because every time I talk to her, I somehow trip over my words, which has never happened before.
Seriously, even with my dad the way he is and the pressure he inadvertently piles on me, I’ve never fallen on my skates, so Laura has accomplished the impossible, and by the looks of it, she doesn’t care.
She doesn’t speak, but her eyes continue to draw down my body and then up.
Unimpressed and pissed off.
Yeah, that’s fucking hot.
“You can't be serious,” she finally says.
I look to either side, wondering if I'm missing something. “Uh…I am? You're the one sitting here, watching me.”