Chapter 2
Callie
If there’s one thing I know about hockey players, it’s that they stink. I don’t mean metaphorically, I mean they literally stink to high heavens. The amount of sweat that pours out of them during a game is enough to fill the Thames. I should know, I’ve been around them since I was little. James Burch, also known as head coach of the men’s ice hockey team at Redwood University also has another nickname he likes to go by, Dad. Yes, my dad is the men’s hockey coach at the university that I attend for gymnastics. The sport is my entire life, has been since I was four years old and almost every decision I make is to further my chances of making a success of myself.
Redwood University sits about half a mile from the road, surrounded by green and cocooned away from the rest of the world, or so it seems when you’re there. It”s miles from anywhere, the nearest city being London with it’s hustle and bustle, which is incredibly ironic considering all you can hear after dark at the university is the incessant tapping of laptop keys from students who have missed their deadlines and the squawking of unknown animals in the forests that line the property.
I love sports, not just gymnastics but it’s where my natural flare was as a child. Dad wanted me to do something, anything that was athletic as he used to be a hockey player himself. As hurtful as it is to say, I think he was disappointed to find out he was having a daughter, it’s natural for him to want to pass down his hockey genes to someone, but it certainly wasn’t me. I can barely stay upright on the ice so I avoid it at all costs. My dad has drilled it into me from the moment I said my first word that being successful is what life is all about. My parents never had any other children, so Christmases and family events are quiet, but it’s the way it’s always been and it’s the way I like it. My mind is a constant buzz of deadlines, competitions and training, so going home is pretty much the only time I’m able to fully switch off from the stress of university life. Don’t get me wrong I love it here, my dad has been planning for my time here since I did my first cartwheel and I have to say I’m glad he saved every penny for the first twenty years of my life to make sure I could get a place. I met my best friend here too, Molly Crawford, we were paired in a dorm together two years ago and the click between us was instant. She’s 100 miles per hour all day, everyday and I’m about 10 miles per hour behind her, so we make for a perfect pair. Anais then joined our dorm room 18 months ago, not long after she started at Redwood, she’s a gymnast on my team too so we have a lot in common. The girls on my team and Molly are pretty much the only people I’m willing to give up my time for here, everyone else pretty much pisses me off, especially my dad’s hockey boys. That’s why I’m wondering how I ended up where I am right now. In the penalty box at a hockey game, my dad screaming profanities from the plexiglass and waving his arms in the air. I used to come and watch the games all the time with Molly, but I’ve been so busy with competitions since we came back from summer break that I’ve not made the time to come and watch any games. Like I said, I’m awful on the ice, but watching hockey and playing hockey are two different things entirely. As I sit, picking at my finger nails and half watching the game, the sensation of warmth rolls over my skin when a huge wave of heat brushes past me and lands on his ass, right next to me in the sin bin. I twist my neck reluctantly, not wanting to engage for even a millisecond with whichever player has been sent off the ice. He’s bound to be mad, frustrated at being sent off for something he’ll be sure he didn’t do. When I look up at the dimple-faced, smiling hunk of muscle I see it’s Sean Taylor.
Why god, why did it have to be Sean Taylor?
He’s the most annoying of them all, captain of the team since he joined the university three months ago he’s already made himself known to every single female that comes within a mile of him. The cocky smile spread across his rugged face right now proves that. I watch as his gaze turns sultry and he drags his caramel eyes down, prowling over my skin and making me shiver.
Don’t get me wrong, he’s hot as balls, but I’m not the type of girl to jump into bed with any guy who shows me an ounce of attention. I prefer to be in a relationship, I like the stability and feeling like someone is committed to me and only me. Not that that worked out for me the last time. My ex-boyfriend Joel is a football player here, we were together for just over a year when he dumped me last week. He said I was constantly in a bad mood, always had an attitude with him and he could never do anything to please me. I can’t help it though, it’s just the way I am and as much as I love being in a relationship I refuse to change myself for any man. Sean is still fluttering his eyes across my body, his gaze lingering on the low neckline of my sleek, black, bodysuit as he digs his teeth into his bottom lip. The whistle snaps his attention back to the game and I sigh with relief to think he won’t bother me anymore with his perverted looks and eye fucking. But of course I’m never that lucky, and when I turn my head back in his direction he captures my eyes with his.
If he wasn’t so heartbreakingly good looking it would be easier to be rude to him, it’s obvious why girls are literally falling at his feet. He’s huge, about a foot taller than me and I’m 5-foot-4 on a good day. His short, dark curls accentuate the hardness of his jaw line and the discreet coating of shadowy stubble that blankets his face is screaming for me to reach out and brush my fingers against it. But unfortunately for Sean Taylor he’s also the most irritating, arrogant asshole on the whole hockey team. He knows he’s hot and I think if you asked him he’d tell you he’s the hottest person he’s ever seen. There’s nothing I hate more than a guy who thinks he’s god’s gift to women.
He’s still looking at me like I’m his favourite snack, not saying a word and it’s making me want to reach over and slap the smug grin off his gorgeous face. He finally clears his throat and I realise that I’m staring at his mouth, the pink of his lips tempting me in accompanied by his deliciously sexy dimples and extremely arrogant grin. Absolutely not, I will never be seen dead going home with a guy like him, like I said I don’t do hook ups anyway and even if I did I’d have better taste than a walking ad for chlamydia like Sean Taylor.
“Hey,” He says, his swampy eyes trapping me for a split second before I remember who I’m sitting next to.
As tempting as it is to be rude to this giant hunk of arrogance, I decide to try and be civil, hoping his time in here with me goes quickly so I can go back to my scrolling and nail picking.
I sigh, full of boredom and indifference. “What you in for?”
“It’s not prison,” He snickers and I turn back to my phone. He has to be annoying the second he opens his mouth doesn’t he?
My obvious disinterest in him clearly has him confused. I don’t think a girl has ever been less interested in him than I am. Like I said, he’s painfully hot, but his ‘I’m the king of the rink’ attitude overrides his hotness the second he opens his mouth.
“It’s hockey prison.” I say, still not looking at him.
He barks a laugh. “I was sentenced to 5 minutes for tripping, which is bullshit because I didn’t even trip him.”
There’s the ‘I didn’t do it’ mantra that I was waiting for.
“Actually,” he says, twisting his whole body towards mine and I purposefully shuffle further away from him down the bench. “I did trip him, I tripped him on purpose so I could get sent in here.”
“You purposefully got a penalty?” I ask, his shit eating grin glowing back at me. “Wow, what a shitty captain you are leaving your boys a man down for 5 whole minutes.”
His smile widens further and my stomach does a backflip. “I wanted to talk to you.” He grins, caramel eyes flitting across my freckled cheek bones.
There he goes again with the arrogance, I’m sick of hockey boys thinking just because they’re tall, painfully handsome and sexy that girls will automatically drop their pants. I’m not denying that most of the hockey team are fine as hell, Sean Taylor being at least ten times hotter than the rest of them, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to dive into bed with him, begging him to give me the pleasure of his dick for one night. “Yeah, ok, look, the smooth talking isn’t going to work on me, so save your breath. Unfortunately for you I’m immune to your boyish charms.” I let out an aggravated sigh, letting my irritation for him get the better of me. His eyes float between mine, washing with a sparkle of excitement mixed with the absolute confusion that any girl couldn’t want him.
“There’s nothing boyish about what I want to do to you.” He smirks, a devilish grin spreading across his cheeks.
A flabbergasted scoff leaves my lips before I can stop it and Sean’s face changes. “You’re really living up to the whole fuck boy, sleaze bag, man whore image that I already have of you.”
I twist my body completely away from his and check the clock on the scoreboard. Still two and a half minutes of torture left in here with this buffoon of a man whilst he desperately tries to claw his way into my pants. I keep my eyes on the game for a few seconds, but Sean never takes his sparkling gaze off the side of my face. He’s so fucking annoying. “What?” I spit, catching him by surprise and watching as his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline.
“Woah tiger,” He laughs, the cocky smile never leaving his face. He doesn’t try to hide the fact that his eyes keep falling to my tits. I brush the uncontrollable mane of curls over my shoulder and cross one leg over the other with a huff, turning away from him again and ignoring him completely.
“So, are you enjoying the game? You don’t seem to be actually watching it.” He says and I continue to ignore him. I can hear the smile in his voice, like he’s enjoying this game of cat and mouse between us. Little does he know that this mouse is like a cheetah and can outrun his flirty pursuit no problem. “You must have paid a lot of money to sit here during a game like this.”
“Ha,” I scoff and reluctantly meet his cocky smile. “Pay for this? You must be joking.”
“Well, you must be a big fan to be sat in the penalty box, bet you’re starstruck meeting me aren’t you?”
Urgh, this man is insufferable.
“You’re not going to stop talking to me are you?”
A slow smile crosses his face. “No,”
I let out a loud, impatient sigh. “The fact you don’t know that I’m your coach’s daughter just proves how self absorbed you really are.” “There’s no way you’re Coach’s daughter, I would have seen you around before. And trust me, there’s not a chance in hell I would have laid eyes on you and not taken you home with me.” He coos, leaning closer. His woodsy aftershave is deliciously manly and I fight back the drool that wants to escape. No way is this asshole going to get to me that easily. “Wow, your head is so big we can barely fit in this box together.” I huff and he barks a laugh, leaning back against the bench, arms folded behind his head. “You know a lot of the guys on your team are hot, you’re not the only one.”
“Ha!” He sits up, pointing his finger at me playfully. “You think I’m hot.” I roll my eyes. “Well, I’m not blind Taylor.”
He laughs again. Why does this fuck head laugh at me constantly? It’s like he’s hating the fact that I have no interest in him, but revelling it in at the same time.
“So now that we’ve established that we’re both hot as fuck, are you coming home with me after the game?”
Now it”s my turn to laugh, albeit dryly. “You don’t even know my name you pig!”
He stands to his feet, the seconds ticking by as his time in the sin bin comes to an end, thank god.
“Yes, I do Callie.” He sings, thirty-seconds left before he can go back on the ice and stop irritating the shit out of me.
I roll my eyes and fold my arms across my chest again. “I’m not impressed by you Taylor, now get back on the ice and do your job.”
His eyes flicker to the timer on the scoreboard. 20 seconds.
“Will you come home with me after the game if I score a goal for you?” He asks, jutting his bottom lip out and making puppy eyes at me. “I”ll think about it.” I most definitely will not, think about it.
He fist bumps the air and winks at me, before sliding back out onto the ice and flying towards the goal. Lewis smashes the puck to Sean, he glides across the ice effortlessly, weaving through the opposing team and whacking the puck flying. It whips past the left side of the goalie’s head and within seconds of Sean hitting the ice, he’s scored the winning goal. With only minutes left of the game it”s almost certain that Redwood have taken this one, and when his teammates clamber off him, releasing him from their bear hugs, he looks straight at me. He points his hockey stick directly at me and throws me a dazzling smile. My vagina does a little dance and I metaphorically slap her around the face. I can’t let him get to me like this, he’s interested in one thing and one thing only. And that thing is something I can’t give him.