Chapter 3
3
TUCK
“ I f you had to spend forty-eight hours in the world of the last movie you watched, how fucked would you be?”
“It would be 28 Days Later for me,” Jamie answers the question of my other teammate, Carter. We’re just shooting the shit in the locker room before skating back onto the ice for the third period of a game we’re dominating. “I’d be pretty fucked.” He shudders. “I can’t stand that zombie shit. I’m definitely not cut out for any post-apocalyptic scenarios.”
“ Predator for me,” Kiran says. He’s a big, strapping dude who plays on the fourth line, and he plays rough and physical. “I think I’d be good, actually. I’d make it to the very end, me and Arnold Schwarzenegger hunting down that alien bastard together.”
“I think I’d rather spend forty-eight hours trying to survive in 28 Days Later or Predator than spend four hours trying to get through watching those artsy snoozefest movies Sebastian always has on,” I say, throwing a teasing glance at Sebastian Laurent, our center forward. “I saw him in the living room the other day watching this movie and I swear, the camera was pointed down this abandoned alley for, like, five minutes straight with literally nothing happening. In black and white, too.”
“There was a very interesting philosophical monologue going on during that scene,” Sebastian counters. “And the shot was great. It was framed brilliantly, and the lighting was …”
“Blah, blah, blah,” I cut him off. I love Sebastian, but sometimes I’m surprised he’s a hockey player instead of an English professor or working at a museum or some shit. “Things are supposed to happen in movies.”
“Just because there weren’t explosions or shoot-outs or car chase scenes, doesn’t mean nothing was happening,” Sebastian says, patronizingly.
“Be careful about insulting those artsy movies, Tuck,” Hudson says, before adding with a wink, “those are the kind of movies your crush likes, too.”
“Crush?” Carter asks. “Tuck has a crush?”
“Olivia,” Rhys answers.
“Oh,” Carter reacts, nodding his head. “Summer’s friend, right?” he asks Hudson.
Hudson nods.
“Yeah, the girl who keeps shooting him down,” Sebastian says.
Dick.
“Come to think of it,” Hudson says, a devious glint in his arctic blue eyes, “you and Olivia have a lot of that artsy stuff in common, Sebastian.”
“Hmm,” Sebastian muses, making a big show of cupping his chin and nodding thoughtfully. “You’re right. Maybe we’d be a good match.”
These guys couldn’t be more blatantly trying to get a rise out of me. Which is why I shouldn’t give them one.
Too bad my face doesn’t get the message, as there’s currently a scowl carved so deeply into it that I can feel myself practically snarling. It’s more than enough to get the guys chuckling at my expense.
Luckily, Coach Torres’ voice pulls all our attention towards him. “Alright, men! You all ready to go out there and finish this job?”
We all respond in the affirmative, instantly pumped up. We’re heading into the third period up 4-1. A comfortable lead made even more comfortable by the fact that our opponent’s offense is cooked.
The last couple weeks of the season have been amazing. This team is clicking like I’ve never felt a team click before. From defense to offense to goalie, everything is firing on all cylinders. Our chemistry on the ice is seamless, like we can read each other’s minds.
Hell, we come into every game and play every game with so much confidence that we think nothing of wasting the time between periods dicking around and talking about what movies we’d be able to survive in. Everything is just flowing, and it feels great.
Back on the ice, we manage to bottle up our Birchwood U opponents so effectively that they don’t even get a shot on goal. In the last two minutes, Carter manages to blast a one-timer off a pass from Sebastian and score another goal, giving us a final score of 5-1.
Spirits are high as we’re getting changed in the locker room after the game. Every one of us can taste the Frozen Four win this year.
Competition might be stiff—the Hot Shots team down at Ridley University in Pennsylvania are having a killer season, too—but right now, with the roll we’re on, I can feel in my bones that no one’s stopping us from taking home the Championship.
It’s a short bus ride from Birchwood back to Cedar Shade, the town where Brumehill College is located. Since we just threw a rager last weekend, we don’t have anything crazy planned to celebrate this win when we get back.
Still, I’d like to do something low-key with some of the guys when we get back. I’m just buzzing with too much energy that’s begging to get burned off.
“Hey, bestie,” I say to Hudson, wrapping my arm around his shoulders while we’re walking to the bus. Grumpy, closed-off Hudson used to always make sure to tell me we’re not besties whenever I called him that, but lately he hasn’t been protesting. “Up for grabbing a drink when we get back home?”
“Sorry,” he says. “I’m meeting up with Summer.”
If five months ago you told me this grumpy bastard would get a lovey-dovey, faraway look in his eyes whenever he talks about his girlfriend, I wouldn’t have believed you. But my eyes aren’t lying; that’s exactly what’s going on right now.
“How about you two?” I ask Rhys and Lane. “Round of drinks at Loser’s?” I’m referring to Loser’s Luck Tavern, our regular bar back in Cedar Shade.
“Sorry, I’m hanging out with Stephanie when we get back,” Rhys says, talking about a girl on the cheerleading team I’ve seen him with a couple times.
“I actually have a first date with a girl from my Physics study session,” Lane says.
“Can’t wait for the wedding invitations,” I joke, slapping Lane on the back. I put on a smile, but inside feel a twinge of disappointment.
It’d be nice to have a girl waiting for me back home. Even if it’s just a date or a casual hookup.
But I’m in a total and utter rut, all because I only have eyes for the one single girl in Cedar Shade who doesn’t want anything to do with me.
I see Sebastian step up onto the bus ahead of me, and I hurry past a couple other guys to hop on before someone else snags the seat next to him. I usually sit with Hudson on bus rides, but I’m sure my bestie won’t mind my absence this time.
Maybe if I make an effort to show interest in the things Olivia’s interested in—even the things that are, objectively, boring as shit—it’ll show her that I’m not just some fuckboy.
“So, Sebastian,” I say, sliding into the seat next to him. “Give me some boring artsy movie recommendations.”