Chapter 3
Three
Lucas
“Yo, Nole!” I call out into the showers, my voice echoing off the tile walls and surprisingly loud enough to hear over the running water.
“He’s in the locker room!” Banks, one of our goalies, responds somewhere in the room but I don’t care enough to look around.
I skate with these guys, sure, but I don’t feel the need to catch a glimpse of whatever they’re packing under their uniforms. I walk back out of the shower room, a little further down the hallway and into our team’s main locker room.
The scent of musk and sweat slaps me in the face the moment I step into the locker room but luckily for me, I’m just as used to the stench as I am to the bright overhead lights.
My eyes wander around the room, in search of the blond asshole who I’ve come to call my best friend.
Being one of the tallest guys on the team, he’s usually hard to miss.
That and his voice tends to not blend in so well with locker room chatter when he’s telling people off for standing too close.
When I don’t find him here, I decide that I’m going to slip out of my uniform before I continue my search.
“Moose,” I call out to the brunette who’s sitting in front of his cubby, nothing left of his uniform besides his pants that hang loosely on his bulky frame.
Thank god for small favors.
He’s been known to walk around the locker rooms in his birthday suit, as if his body is a gift from god that we should all appreciate.
As I get closer, I hear part of his conversation about one of his hookup excursions. He doesn’t even bother to look at me. I fist bump another teammate, Stone, as I sit myself down in front of my cubby that’s right next to Stone’s and Moose’s.
“Hey, Callahan.” Stone nods, going back to meticulously putting his things back into his gym bag.
We give each other quick praises for our plays during the game as I untie my skates. I end up throwing one of my socks toward Moose, who still is too busy talking with a few of the other guys.
When the sock hits his leg, he flinches and whips his head in my direction.
Moose finally turns to me, eyes wide, hair sticking out in different directions, obviously on a high from winning. I’m already imagining the shit he’s about to try to drag me into just with the excuse of tonight being our last game of the season.
Usually, I’d be down for whatever but there’s always something bittersweet about our last game. Doesn’t matter if we win or not. It simply just adds to my countdown of college almost being over and my career as an official member of the New Jersey Snakes starting.
I was drafted in my first year of college.
Then I was told I wouldn’t be signed until I graduated.
It was a win-win for me. I had the knowledge an NHL team wanted me while also being able to experience college, and even though it’s exciting to finally live out my dream, I know a big part of me is going to miss Kingswell.
After tonight, I’ll just do what I always do. Find something to distract myself from waiting for the next season. Otherwise I might just go stir-crazy.
“What the hell was that for?” Moose complains.
I shrug my shoulders and start to discard the rest of my uniform because I have a feeling I won’t be able to head to the showers quite yet.
“Ignoring me.”
He rolls his eyes but turns to face both me and Stone. “Callahan, tell Stone that Allie Holmes did in fact kiss me. Fucker thinks I’m lying.”
I laugh. “Dude, it was more like you kissed her and she let you for all of three seconds before pulling away.”
Stone’s usual stoic expression cracks for a split second. “We’re gonna have to call campus security if you keep harassing women.”
“Fuck off,” Moose scoffs. “You make me sound like a horny freak or some shit.”
“Are you not?” I slip off my jersey and arch my eyebrow in Moose’s direction.
He throws his hands up in exasperation, adding to my own amusement. I reach over Stone to flick Moose’s forehead but I immediately regret doing so when I feel how sweaty he is. “We’re just fucking with you, man.” I wipe my hand on my boxers. “We know your undying love for Allie Holmes.”
Stone snorts. “And Emily States. Carly Jones. Anica Rodriguez—”
I join in. “Oh, don’t forget Parker Abramczyk.”
Moose holds his arms out wide, puffing his chest in the same way he does on the ice. “Mock me all you want but don’t hate me for having all this love to give.”
I throw my other sock at him. “Alright, lover boy.”
As I’m slipping on my sweats and shirt, I look over a few cubbies to see that Preston’s shit is still lazily thrown in there or sitting on the bench.
I know that Coach’s little excursion of finding the defenseman was to get me out of his sight but the guy does pay the rent on our apartment.
It’d be a shame if he ended up going missing.
“You seen Nole?” I wiggle my feet into my slides.
Moose shakes his head, clearly not too caught up in our conversation anymore as he’s now yapping Killer’s ear off. He’s lucky the guy just looks like he wants to strangle you.
Stone zips up his bag, shrugging. “Think I saw him heading toward the weight room. Want me to head over with you?”
“Nah, man.” I shake my head, knowing the last thing Preston would want is for anyone witnessing him at a low. Shit, I think he even has a hard time with me seeing him like that. Too bad for him that he got stuck with me as a friend.
“I’ll catch you guys later?”
Stone nods with silent understanding. Moose gives me a half-assed wave before I walk back out of the locker room. I can’t help but sneak a peek to my right at Coach’s door. It’s dark in there now, confirming my suspicions of Coach just trying to get rid of me.
The smile Denise tried to hide when I blew her a kiss makes my stomach warm and fluttery. The way her seafoam green eyes sparkled when I stepped a little too close, makes me believe that maybe this isn’t all in my head.
Maybe there’s a chance that her heart races a little too fast for her own good just like mine whenever she’s around.
I remain standing in the hallway as the hum of the Zamboni lingers from the rink, tangled with Joshey and Steven’s voices. Their voices echo from the team ice entrance down to me, but I manage to make out Joshey explaining yet again to Steven that he’s the assistant coach, not Steven’s babysitter.
Steven’s a pretty cool dude to goof off or even smoke with but I don’t think the guy has ever successfully managed anything in his entire life. I’ve asked Joshey how he even got the job but apparently that’s some top secret shit because two years later his lips are still sealed.
With an unfortunate lack of Denise, I begin heading in the opposite direction of Joshey and Steven, instead walking a little further down the hallway and taking a loose left turn.
I know I’m walking in the right direction because the closer I get to the weight room, the harsher my ears are assaulted by the rattling of rap music coming from a little further down the hallway.
I turn the knob and push the door open with my shoulder. My eyes scan the room to find Preston lying on the bench press, the room otherwise completely empty. Just how I know he likes it. Or at least of recent.
Boy am I about to ruin his night.
The guy gives me whiplash.
One moment he’s telling everyone to fuck off, creating a sense of dread to be near the guy, then in the same breath he’s asking me to come along to parties just so he can feel something.
Okay, I added that last part but I feel like it’s implied.
The door clicks shut behind me. There’s no hesitation in my steps as I walk closer to Preston. The rest of the guys may try to avoid him out of fear of probably getting punched for breathing too loud, but I thrive in pissing Preston off.
It’s one of my favorite pastimes, really.
That and finding ways to make Denise Stryker look at me for at least half a second.
Preston doesn’t stop his movements of lifting what I’m sure is pushing past one-fifty in weights. He doesn’t sit up or even care to acknowledge me at all.
“You good, drama queen?” I shout over the music.
Still nothing.
I take the opportunity to walk past him and toward the small table near the mirrors where his phone rests, plugged into the speakers. His phone lights up and I jab my finger against the screen, pausing his music.
My ears ring for a moment at the newfound silence.
“Unless you want a barbell thrown at you, I suggest you turn that back on,” Preston grunts, arms still moving in an up and down motion.
Feeling satisfied with myself, I take a seat on a nearby bench, resting my arms behind me and palms flat against the leather of the weight bench. “That kind of attitude is exactly what landed you in the box most of the game.”
He remains silent and honestly it tugs at a certain part of me that I try to shove down when it comes to Preston.
He’s my best friend, no questions asked. I tell him everything even when he probably wishes I didn’t. He’s always been the one to dish back out whatever I give.
He’s always been a little moody. Always getting in trouble for his temper more often than not but this is different. This isn’t Preston. One call from his alcoholic mother after wanting nothing to do with him for seven years and now he’s just a shell of who he used to be.
I mean I get it. His mom only wants him around because his inheritance from his great grandfather just landed in the bank a few months ago. I’d be pissed too. And I try not to get all sappy on the guy but I want my friend back goddamn it.
“You wanna talk or just continue ignoring me?”
I’m about to stand up and punch him in the gut for brushing me off yet again, but he saves himself by finally lifting and resting the barbell back in its place.
He finally sits up, resting his elbows on his knees and I really have to fight the urge to tell him to stop stress weight training.
He doesn’t need to be any fucking bigger.