Sebastian
SEBASTIAN
A ustin’s standing outside the rink on his phone as we come out of the locker room. No one’s talking to me, but then, that’s no surprise. They slap hands with their captain when they see him, but only I seem to note the discomfort on his face.
“Coming to get some food?” Gray asks him.
“Nah, I’ve got some studying to do, I’ll catch up later.”
I’m about to walk away, drive back to my apartment and eat something before the game later, when Austin calls me back.
“I need to talk to you.”
The guys give me the side-eye, pleased, like they know I’m about to get chewed out.
“Fine, let’s get this over with,” I say as I keep walking.
Austin has to jog to keep up.
He pulls me back by the arm.
“Jesus, slow down, what’s the rush?”
“I’m starving, that’s the rush.”
I put my hand on the driver’s door to the SUV my dad bought when I left Yale in disgrace. A pretty weird thing to do for someone you were supposed to be punishing. I couldn’t help feeling like he was buying my silence.
“You want to talk?” I ask Austin. He stares at me like he’s weighing up whether or not to hit me. Yeah, get in line.
“Get in.”
He makes up his mind and walks around to the passenger side.
The last song I was playing comes on the stereo and Austin asks me what it is.
“It’s a little playlist I made called I usually solve my problems by letting them devour me. ”
He snorts.
“It’s a quote by Kafka. You know the author-”
“I know who Kafka is.”
I shrug.
Bat For Lashes sing the intro to Daniel as I back out of the parking lot and Austin looks like he’s dying to say something, but can’t find the words. I turn the music down.
“Come on then, spit it out.”
“Do you want my spot, on the team?”
I nearly choke on a laugh. “What? Fuck no.”
“So why do you ignore every piece of advice I give you?”
I ignore that and take a right onto Main Street.
“Do you want everyone to hate you?”
I shrug. Austin’s glare is so intense I swear I can feel it on the side of my face.
“They’re going to anyway, so why delay the inevitable?”
He sighs and throws his head back. “You’re more emo than my teenage cousins.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“No.”
I pass Gray and a couple of the guys on their way to the building where their favorite bagel place is and I swear Austin slumps down in his seat.
“Don’t want begels ?”
“No. And why’d you say it like that?”
“Like what? Begels ? That’s how you say it.”
“No it isn’t.”
“It is,” I laugh. “You have an accent.”
“Stop changing the subject. Coach just chewed me out because you can’t get along with anyone on the team.”
“Why is that your fault?”
“Because I’m the captain.”
Oh.
He straightens up and clears his throat. “Listen, if you don’t take hockey seriously, then you need to ask yourself what you’re doing here, because we do take it seriously, very seriously. This is our lives. And maybe you’ll give me one of your shit-eating grins and think it’s all funny, but it’s not funny to me. I’ve been busting my ass for years to get my ma out of her shitty job and her rented house. I’m making the NHL, no matter what, and if you’re not on board, then…” he shrugs “…you know where the door is.”
I swallow, glad I’m at a stop light, because I don’t think I could pay attention to the traffic right now. I’d never fully considered Austin’s life outside of this college. The fact he probably has a family counting on him succeeding. Someone who made sacrifices for him. Maybe his mom had to save up to buy him that Alfalfa suit (or whatever the brand was). Maybe his family don’t have money after all. And he didn’t mention a dad either.
I’m about to apologize when a horn makes me jump.
“It’s on green, go!”
“Oh, shit,” I put the car into drive, the car behind me siding up and giving me the finger.
Austin looks at me. “Should you be driving?”
“I’m fine. Shall we get some food? How about pizza?”
“We can’t eat pizza before a game, turn onto Pinecrest, there’s a good pasta place there, we can load up on carbs and protein.”
I do as he says, speechless for once.
At the pasta place, I try to pay for his food, but Austin waves my AMEX away and pays on a checking account card and shows his student ID to get discount. I never even consider asking for student discount, but I do it this time because Austin might be listening and I don’t want him to think I’m a rich asshole. Not right now.
We take our pasta loaded with veggies and chicken and sit in a corner away from the windows.
I let him eat at least half his bowl before I speak again.
“I’m sorry.”
He glances up, but carries on eating.
“I do take it seriously.”
He rolls his eyes.
“Seriously. I… hockey’s the only thing I’ve got that’s actually mine.”
He slows down but doesn’t stop eating. I’m glad he’s not looking at me, because I actually think I’m blushing.
“I know you think I have everything, but there’s nothing in my life that comes without strings. Usually emotional blackmail, or expectations.” I clear my throat. I still have half a bowl of pasta, but I don’t feel like eating anymore. “As soon as I graduate, I’m going to go work for my dad’s company. He’s a financial advisor and I have exactly zero interest in any of it, but I don’t have a choice. Never have.”
I wait for the violin comment. An eye roll.
He stops eating and takes a sip of his water, finally looking at me.
“So why don’t you just tell him you don’t wanna work for his company?”
I snort. “Yeah, that’d go down well…” I clear my throat and put on a deep voice. “Do you know how much I’ve invested in you? Swiss boarding schools, two BMWs, a Rolex, three years of Yale.” I can feel Austin’s eyes on me and my cheeks flush.
“So give him the Rolex back and tell him you’ll pay him off in instalments until your eighty.”
When I glance at him, there’s a twinkle of humour in his eyes.
“He’ll cut me off,” I say in a small voice.
“So what? You’re scared of being poor?”
I swallow. This is getting a little too deep. I shrug, like it doesn’t matter. “I’m used to having money, I wouldn’t know how to live without it.” I don’t have anything but money.
He looks like he’s biting the inside of his lip. “I get it,” he says.
“ You get it? The guy who referred to me as ‘rich boy’ with a snarl for three years on the ice.”
“You referred to me as ‘pretty boy’, we all say things we don’t mean.”
Things we don’t mean?
“People who say money doesn’t matter have never been poor.” He picks up his fork and starts eating again, stabbing at the remaining vegetables. “Having money means being able to see a doctor when you’re sick. Or getting a filling when you have a toothache. It means being able to tell your landlord to go fuck himself when the roof’s leaking and he won’t do shit about it. It means not having to work double shifts at a diner when you should be doing what you love. Being able to pay your kid’s college tuition, hockey camp, new skates-” He puts his fork down and sinks into his chair. “So I get it. I don’t blame you for not wanting to be poor.”
He looks so raw and vulnerable right now. I want to give him something back.
“Do you want to know why I had to leave Yale?”
He frowns. “I thought you got transferred?”
I scoff. “Like you guys needed me. You’re the best team in the league. No, my dad used his connections to get me in. It was a good cover story, for why I’d ever choose to leave Yale.”
He shuffles uncomfortably. Well, if he already hates me…
“I had an affair, with my professor.”
He blinks.
“A man.”
“I guessed.”
“Someone filmed us… having sex, and sent it all over the school.”
He gulps and I drop my eyes, my face hot.
“Shit,” he says finally. “So what, you got expelled? That isn’t right.”
“No, I didn’t get expelled. I just couldn’t show my face there anymore.”
He gets that look on his face he gets in business class when he’s trying to take all the information in and arrange it into something more coherent.
“Wait a minute, is a professor supposed to… sleep with their students?”
I shake my head. “He was fired.”
“What about the person who filmed you? That’s illegal isn’t it? Shouldn’t they have been arrested?”
I feel my lip curl. “My dad thought it’d only draw more attention if it went public, there’d probably be a trial and the papers might pick it up, we couldn’t have that.”
Austin presses his lips.
“He said he was trying to protect me from it getting out any further than it already had. And I guess if you guys didn’t see it here, then… maybe he was right. He got his best, most trusted people on getting it taken down, but obviously they’ll never be able erase it completely. People probably still have copies on their phones. That’s why I had to leave. Even if they didn’t, everyone had seen it. Everywhere I went on campus, people fell silent or laughed when I walked past.” I push out a bitter laugh. “Or they quoted some of my famous lines. That was fun.”
“Fuck.”
I can’t look at him. I don’t want to see pity in his eyes.
“I’ll get the guys to stop calling you Yale. But you have to stop pissing everyone off.”
“You don’t have to do that-”
“Wait a minute, if you were running away, why were you still wearing the Yale jersey?”
I shrug. “Because it pissed you off.” I try a smile, but he just shakes his head.
“Anyway, it wasn’t Yale’s fault. It was the person who filmed it and passed it around.”
“And the professor who worked there.”
I shrug. “Yale didn’t know until the video got out.”
“Have you talked to this guy since?”
“Yeah right. The second shit hit the fan, he threw me under the bus. Tried to say I wouldn’t leave him alone and hounded him until he gave in.” I swallow. Fuck, do not fucking cry.
“I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, force a smile and shovel a forkful of cold pasta in my mouth.
He pushes his bowl away and rests his elbows on the table, bridging some of the space between us.
“I’m gonna make a deal with you. I take responsibility for being kinda a dick when you first showed up, and being too chicken-shit to stop the guys from being dicks. You’re on this team, we should treat you like everyone else.”
I groan internally. Please do not be nice to me. I already want to kiss your face off. The last thing I need is a straight-guy crush.
“Where’s the deal part?”
“You stop being a dickhead and I go to bat for you if anyone gets out of order… but if you deserve it and you intentionally piss someone off just to get a reaction, the deal’s off and you’re on your own.”
Austin’s gaze is intense as he waits for an answer. I paint on my best boardroom smile and stick my hand out. “Deal.”
There’s a sigh as he takes it, like he’s regretting this already.