Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90257 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 451(@200wpm)___ 361(@250wpm)___ 301(@300wpm)
A sly look settles on his face.
It’s tempting to punch it right off.
“Then you wouldn’t have a problem if I asked her out, right?”
I straighten like someone just rammed a two by four up my ass and scowl. “The fuck you say?”
A shit-eating grin overtakes his expression as he wraps his fingers around the silver handle and shoves the door open. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
The asshole doesn’t even bother to wait for a response as he strolls into the apartment as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, leaving me to stand alone in the hallway, narrowed gaze pinned to his back.
Boisterous voices spill out from inside.
“You gonna get your ass in here or what?” Riggs asks, raising a green bottle of beer to his lips and taking a long pull.
With a grunt, I stalk into the entryway before slamming the door shut. Almost all of the senior guys are squeezed into the three-bedroom apartment. A few are standing around and drinking while others have settled on the couch and chair. They’re focused on an intense game of NHL being played out on the high-def big screen television that takes up most of the far wall.
“Help yourself to a cold one,” Colby adds as he does the same. “After that practice, you deserve it, man.”
Even though he only walked in minutes before I did, there’s a girl tucked under each arm. I almost shake my head at how quickly he works. Over the years, his nickname as the baby-faced assassin has been well earned. I’ve never seen a guy get so much pussy. He’s like the pied piper of it. Crazier still, girls leave his bed just as happy as they went to it. It’s like he’s able to cast a spell over them or something.
Must be the dimples.
I’ve seen plenty of guys get their asses chewed out by spurned chicks who were hoping for more than just a one-night stand.
Not Colby.
It’s almost like he’s able to convince them that a casual hookup was their idea, and he was just doing them a solid. I’ve watched the guy in action. The way he’s able to talk his way out of any situation is seriously impressive. I’ve whipped out my phone a time or two to take notes.
There’s only one thing that can take my mind off the mahogany-haired girl in the apartment next door, and that’s hockey.
More specifically, our new coach.
The hardass who seems to have it out for me.
As good as a beer would taste, I’m not in the mood.
It’s funny…
Well, not exactly funny.
In fact, it’s not amusing at all.
When senior year began a couple of months ago, I’d assumed everything would fall neatly into place just like it had the previous three seasons I’d been playing for the Wildcats. Being named captain along with being a top defensive pairing was a no brainer. Especially since I was assistant captain of the team last season.
And Coach Kasminski?
The guy fucking loved me. If he could’ve adopted my ass, he would’ve. He’s the one who recruited me during high school, promising a full athletic ride.
It wasn’t long before he was waving me into his office and asking for my thoughts regarding other players or for my opinion when it came to power plays and our opponents. Sometimes, we’d kick back in his office with a pizza and watch game film for a couple of hours.
So why wouldn’t senior year just be more of the same?
I’d skate through the season without a care in the world, kicking ass and taking names. Then, to top it off, we’d bring home another Frozen Four Championship title. Senior year would be the cherry on top of an epic college career before moving up to the pros.
Except…
Kasminski up and quit a week before we headed back to campus. He accepted a position as an assistant coach for a professional team. I didn’t even realize he’d been applying for other jobs. The dude never said a word.
Do I necessarily blame the guy for wanting to move up in the world?
Hell no. We all have our dreams, right?
And if you don’t go after them, they certainly aren’t going to chase you back.
It’s just that he unwittingly screwed me over in the process.
Western swiftly hired another head coach to fill the vacancy.
Reed Philips.
He played in the NHL for more than a decade before sliding into an assistant coaching position and then a head coaching job at a Division II university. Now, he’s here.
It only took a couple of practices to surmise that the guy is a real dick. For some reason, he took an instant dislike to me. If I even look at him sideways, he reams me out in front of the entire team.
It’s been a bitter pill to swallow.
The arena has always been my happy place.