“Well, yeah? He’s the one you thought you were coming on to, wasn’t it?”
“I wasn’tcoming onto you.”
“Huh?” I feign surprise. “Funny how I remember that differently. Becauseyoushoved your tongue down my throat.”
“Youbitme.”
“And you liked it!” I state smugly, although the stunned silence that follows makes me shift in place. Hart is staring at me, eyes wide like the proverbial deer in the headlights. He might have tried to block out the memory, but I vividly recall the way his hard-on pressed against my groin as he buried both hands in my hair.
“I wouldn’t have liked it had I known it was you!” he’s shouting now, and I cringe, quickly looking around to make sure none of the coaching staff has left the rink in the meantime.
“Keep it down, you moron; the campus doesn’t care about what you like!” I hiss as I step up to him to get into my car. This exchange needs to end before he gets Nate and me kicked out after all.
“Oh, suddenly scared of the consequences of your own actions?”
“You sound like you’ve waited your whole life to drop this line on me.”
“No, what I’ve been waiting for is for you to acknowledge when you’re in the wrong. Just like when you spewed shit on that interview!” He underlines his words with a smack to the side of my car.
Just in time the interior lights go out again, leaving us both in the dark.
“RIP to you then, because I stand by that. The only reason the Rebels were so eager to recruit you as their rainbow poster child was the giant shitstorm they had on their hands then. You were nothing more than a welcome solution to a pesky problem, Hart. If you want to whore out your private life to fix their business, fine, but stop dragging me for stating the truth!”
I try to squeeze past him to get into my car, but that bastard is blocking me with his arm. I’m completely done with him, though. He’s been riding the backlash from that fucking interview for three years now, not hesitating to paint me as the bad guy when he basically insinuated nepotism handed me my draft spot.
“Oh, I see, there’s always an explanation for your shitty behavior. So I guess you also wouldn’t have any regrets about parading around as Nate, huh? Because you were basically doing him a favor and not profiting from it at all,” he jeers, his face distorted by a mixture of shadows and rage.
“What the fuck would be my profit? Losing sleep from your snoring? Smelling your dirty socks? I officially missed two weeks of training and playing with my own team—now back the fuck off!” I ram my shoulder against his chest to get him away from my car door, but Hart doesn’t budge, holding on to its handle while also leaning into me.
We’re so close, I can feel his hot breath ghost over the exposed skin of my neck. For a moment, the images of that party flash before my eyes, the way his gaze fixated on my throat just before he moved in to press his mouth on mine. My stomach squeezes with an unexpected explosion of lust. Lust and pure rage.
“Conveniently enough you also trained with us. Got to spy on our tactics!”
I rear back with laughter at his argument. The audacity of This. Fucking. Guy!
”Ihelpedyou! If anything, my own team should feel betrayed. God! Every goal you scored in those games came out ofmyassists,“ I remind him as I push him with one hand. He’s only wearing an open leather jacket layered on top of a thin athletic shirt, so I can feel his chest muscles jump under my fingers before he takes a step back.
“If it hadn’t been for me, you would have lost that game against the Grizzlies. I even worked with you on your weak-ass backhand—just to actually make it challenging when we play each other the next time.”
And with that, I finally pull my car door open to slide into the driver’s seat. Hart is calling out after me, but it’s drowned out by the howl of my engine as I hightail it out of the parking lot.
The ghost of his hot breath against my sweaty skin stays with me all the way to Walmart.
Xander, December 1st
It’s been over a month since I learned about Nate switching with his twin brother, and two weeks since I crashed against Hoff’s facade of bullshit and bloated ego.
Going home to visit my moms over Thanksgiving didn’t help to put it all out of my mind, so I don’t know why I’ve been expecting the bus ride through Bonham to achieve that. Still, I try not to think about Nicholas van der Hoff as we’re on our way to my most dreaded game yet.
We barely have time to settle down on the bus before we arrive at Bonham Tech’s rink. While we’re gearing up, the tension is rising and barely breaks once we step onto the ice.
It’s a loaded first period, and I keep clashing with Van der Hoff—which should be impossible, but somehow, he finds ways to make my life harder.
The game is rougher in many other aspects as well, with more checks, several penalties, and other interruptions. The rivalry between Bats and Badgers that’s always praised from both colleges is anything but healthy tonight.
When we step back out of the tunnel for the third time our fights escalate: Two minutes in and the Badgers smash against our defense, with Van der Hoff right at the forefront. Taylor is doing his best to keep him at bay, but a sharp turn has him sprawled on the ice, barking curses.
I’m too late pulling back from the middle, can’t catch Van der Hoff as he comes up, hugging the boards. His captain follows him up the center. I take a chance and cover him to prevent the obvious back pass. Nicko curves back from the net, swings his stick without so much as sparing anyone else a glance.
