Sebastian
SEBASTIAN
T he arena is actually quite impressive. Of course I’ve seen it during away games, but it’s different knowing I’m going to actually be playing here on the team.
I push my bag up on my arm and head inside, hoping I don’t bump into anyone before the coach has a chance to introduce me.
This is going to be fun.
Just before I reach my new coach’s office, my phone starts buzzing. I think about ignoring it, especially when I see my dad flash up on the screen, but I know it’s not going to be worth the hassle. He’ll catch me eventually.
“Hey Dad, I’m just about to go in to speak to the coach-”
“I just thought I’d call to wish you good luck.”
Yeah right.
“And remind you how important this is.”
That’s more like it.
“This is your last chance , don’t fuck it up.”
And there it is.
“Thanks for the pep talk Dad, but-”
“Your mother sends her love.”
I paint a smile on, just in case he can sense it through the phone. “Thanks, listen, I have an appointment-”
If I speak in language he actually understands, maybe he’ll take the hint.
“Got to go- beep. ”
I knock on Coach’s door. A deep breath before I go in, flashing my most winning smile.
“Ah, Huntington.” Coach is younger than you’d expect. Tall and in shape, with slightly thinning hair. An even younger guy is hunched over his desk, looking over some papers. Coach looks like a former pro player, the younger guy looks like an accountant.
“I’m Coach Wilson and this is Assistant Head Coach Reid.”
Assistant coach huh.
Yale had four assistant coaches, I wonder how many they’ve got here.
I step forward and shake their hands, waiting until Coach Wilson offers me a seat before I sit down.
“So , this the first day you’ve been on campus?”
“Yes Sir.”
“How you finding it?”
“It’s great, an adjustment, sure, but I think I’m going to enjoy it here.”
“Great, that’s just great.” He clears his throat. “It will be quite an adjustment playing with a new team, but we have a great set of young men here, a very experienced captain-”
“Austin Donoghue,” I say, noting the slight arch in Coach Wilson’s eyebrow.
“Yes, I guess he has quite the reputation.”
“I know of him, I don’t think he likes me very much.”
Despite the light-hearted chuckle, I note him readjusting his tie and wonder how much he’s heard about me.
“Things will be different now you’re both playing on the same team. Donoghue has quite the competitive spirit, but it’s a good thing when he’s on your side.”
I force my best Sunday school smile. “Yes Sir, can’t wait.”
Coach and Assistant Head Coach Reid lead me down the corridor, pointing out their accolades, and yeah, okay, when it comes to hockey, these guys are impressive. They’re not Ivy League, not even close, and we’re a long way from the sprawling classical architecture of Yale, and the stink of New Haven old money, but isn’t there something liberating about that? Isn’t that what I’ve been wanting? I guess if it didn’t feel like such an obvious punishment I might be able to enjoy it a little more.
I make sure to keep the grin on my face as Coach opens the doors to the locker room and I step in behind him.
Everyone stops talking the second he steps inside, a hush falling over the room of guys in various stages of undress. I keep my eyes averted so I don’t get accused of checking anyone out.
“Listen up everyone,” Coach Wilson says. “I want you to welcome a new teammate, you might recognize him from our games against Yale-”
The muttering started as soon as they laid eyes on me, now it’s getting so loud I can make out certain words like him and fuck and no!
I lock eyes with Donoghue and his face is like thunder, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
Coach puts his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t have any doubt you’ll make our new teammate feel welcome here.”
Ooh, he’s even better at that emotional manipulation thing than my mom.
I throw my bag in a free cubby and start undressing, pretending I’m not aware of all the eyes trained on my back.
There’s someone standing particularly close and I take my time before turning around.
He stares me down, taller than I thought he would be out of his skates.
“I’m Donoghue, the captain.” He sticks his hand out like it’s a challenge and I take it. Nice firm, dry handshake, my dad would approve.
“I know who you are.” I turn back to my cubby and start pulling my shirt off. “I beat you in eighty percent of our face-offs last season.”
The room is so still and quiet you could hear a pin drop.
I laugh and shake my head. “You’re still so bad at reading me.”
When I glance up again, his jaw is set and I swear he’s gritting his teeth.
“Well, you’re on our side now, so you can bring that asshole energy to the other team.”
There are snickers and I’m momentarily shaken. Donoghue has won every award there is to win at the junior and collegiate level for exemplary sportsmanship. I know, I Googled him. He’s a fucking boy scout I’ve only ever seen wearing a hockey jersey and a game day suit. Now here he is, standing in front of me in a ratty black hoody with the name of some obscure band - I think - on the front, shit-talking me. The little tuft of messy hair he usually tidies up or shoves under his helmet sticking out. And he’s even hotter than he looks behind the cage, when he’s practically growling at me during the face-off – that I usually win because he’s a fucking boy scout who won’t rush me instead of going for the puck.
Okay, so maybe I miscalculated and he’s not a boy scout? Maybe he’s actually a bad ass who I shouldn’t mess with? And in that case, it’ll be even more fun to mess with him.
“Sure thing Captain.” I pull my practise jersey out of my bag, but before I can put it on, Donoghue snatches it off me.
“What the fuck is this?”
Cursing again? Definitely not a boy scout then. And with a sexy Jersey accent too.
“It’s a practise jersey? You know, the one you wear when you’re not playing a competitive game?”
Donoghue’s nostrils flare and I suppress a smile. I need to take my time, build up to making him explode. Though this might be easier than I thought.
“It’s got Yale on it.”
I take it back and hold it out in front of me like it’s the first time I’ve seen it. “Huh, so it does.”
He snatches it back and throws it to one of his teammates. “Gray, get our new teammate a real jersey.”
I let the corners of my lips twitch up before he turns away.
He fucking hates me. That was quick.