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My dad always cooked for us when he was home. That was his thing. He catered to my mom when they were dating, and she hasn’t lifted a finger in the kitchen since. I wouldn’t trust my mom’s food, anyway. She’s better at ordering from a menu.
“Wanna play Mage Wars after we eat?” I ask Jamie. “I’m finally out of level twenty-five. That one was such a bitch.”
“Oh, I love that game,” Shannon says, surprising all of us.
The entire table’s focus shifts to her, our eyebrows raised, as if to say explain yourself, woman.
“My younger brother is obsessed with it,” she elaborates. “I still live at home with my parents. At least for now. My brother makes me play with him. It’s the only way I can get him to go to bed on time. We play Mage Wars for an hour and then bedtime. Seems to work.”
“My dad created The Fallen universe. Mage Wars is based on one of his earlier games,” Jamie tells her.
Over the years, there have been different versions of the original game that made his dad famous in the tech world. The Fallen: Mage Wars is his newest creation and by far the hardest of all of the games.
Her face brightens. “Are you kidding me? That is so cool.”
“R.E.G.A.N., the artificial intelligence in the game, is named after my mom,” he adds.
She holds her hand over her heart, in awe of what Jamie’s telling her. “Really? That’s so cute. Your dad sounds like a keeper.”
“My mom thinks so,” Jamie jokes.
“Jamie is a genius,” I tell Shannon, and her smile widens. “A total nerd.”
I give Jamie a hard time about being a nerd all the time. He’s just like his dad—obsessed with computers, comic books, video games, and Star Trek. They even have the same name and similar features. But all the nerd jokes go out the window once we’re on the ice.
Jamie and me are both defenseman. We’ve been paired together for years, meaning we work in unison to stop the opposing team from scoring and create new opportunities for our team.
“I like nerds.” Shannon scoots her chair closer to Jamie’s, their elbows touching on the table. “Especially hot ones that can shoot a puck.” Her eyes are so wide and green they stand out against her soft features.
Jamie is getting laid tonight. No doubt about it. This girl is practically on her knees, ready and waiting. Her hand is under the table. Maybe he’s already getting some action. Shannon is impressed with Jamie’s background. I guess there’s a first time for everything. In my experience, girls don’t have a clue about video games. Most of them only care about our trust funds.
Jamie hooks his arm around her back, pulling her into his chest. He plants a kiss on her lips that turns into them going at it in front of us. Everyone at the table is used to women asking about our parents. Apart from Jamie, all of our dads are former NHL hockey players. Everyone on campus knows it. We don’t keep it a secret, though we don’t openly advertise it either.
Drake’s mom is a famous romance author. She writes super taboo and dirty books that even make Drake blush. A lot of girls have the same reaction as Shannon when he tells them his mom is the Sydney Carroway. Tucker and Trent’s mom owns Sports Buzz, an online newspaper all of us read. It’s similar to SBNation. And with my mom being a legendary sports agent—the more I think about it, we have pretty awesome parents. We lucked out big time.
“You ready for the game?” Tucker asks me, ignoring Jamie and Shannon, who are now leaving the dining room, with Shannon draped over Jamie’s shoulder and him smacking her ass.
This is normal for us. We’re so used to each other that none of us care about who’s hooking up where. Even the dining room isn’t sacred. Every inch of this house has been christened by one of us.
“Yeah, I guess,” I say. “I think this is going to be my best year.”
“Best year for the team, too.” Trent sinks his teeth into a slice of garlic bread, speaking between bites. “We’re winning again this year.”
Our team made it to the Frozen Four the last three years, but we only won the NCAA Men’s Ice Hockey Championship once. All of us want it. Bad. One final win before we leave college for the NHL.
“I wish the announcers would stop comparing us to your dads,” Tucker says.
“Oh, I know,” I say. “Like I need a fucking reminder of the ghost of Alex Parker.”
“It pisses me off.” Drake shakes his head. “My dad’s been retired for years.”
I grunt in acknowledgment. “Trying to live up to the legacy of Alex Parker ain’t easy.”
Tucker and Trent nod.
“These asshole announcers expect us to be them,” Tucker says, “when all we’re trying to do is play as hard as we can to get NHL scouts to notice us. Sometimes, I feel like I’m living in the shadow of Tyler Kane. Our dad,” he says, pointing at Trent, “retired over ten years ago. Get over him already.”
