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“Didn’t you hook up with them last year?” I ask him, knowing he moves on from girls faster than it takes him to lace a pair of skates.
Trent runs his fingers through his spiky blonde hair, confusion scrolling across his face. “I don’t know. Did we?”
I laugh as Trent speaks for both him and Tucker. They’re so bad when it comes to girls they make the rest of us look like saints.
“I didn’t,” Drake Donovan chimes in. “There’s no reason we can’t share, Prez.” He says the last part winking at me.
My closest friends call me Prez. Jamie started it when we were younger, and the mysterious z that’s not in my name somehow became part of my nickname. Almost no one calls me Preston, and no one who wants to live calls me Peter.
“Hard pass,” I tell Drake. “I don’t want Trent or Tucker’s slopping seconds.”
Drake is the son of Carter Donovan. Like his dad, he’s a goaltender, one of the best in Division I. At six-feet-seven, Drake still has a few inches on me. He’s built like his dad, a giant whose muscular body covers most of the net. But don’t let his size fool you. It doesn’t slow him down one bit.
Jamie laughs. “You better look for girls on another campus then.”
Jameson O’ Connor, Jr. is the grandson of Mike Turner, a legendary hockey player and former manager of the Philadelphia Flyers. His dad, my uncle Jameson, is also my mom’s best friend. Our parents met in foster care when they were kids and basically raised each other. In some ways, Jamie and me are like brothers.
All of our parents are linked in various ways, mostly through hockey. Because of that, we grew up with skates on our feet and on the ice together. We all knew what it was like to have famous parents. Our upbringing is strange compared to our classmates, but it’s also what bonds us.
“Did Coach’s daughter look different to you?” I ask Jamie. “I didn’t recognize her at first.”
He shoves a hand through his short brown hair, his eyes narrowed at me. “That girl was Coach’s daughter? No way.”
I nod. “Yeah, that was Bex Bryant.”
“Damn,” Drake says. “What happened to her? The last time I saw her she looked like a little girl.”
Trent scratches the light stubble along his jaw. “She has tits now. Nice ones.” He pauses for a second. “Why? You like her?”
I don’t respond at first. Do I like her?
I shrug. “She’s hot. I’d fuck her.”
“She has nice legs,” Drake says.
“Nice tits,” Jamie adds.
“But she’s Coach’s daughter,” I shoot back. “He would flip his shit if I went anywhere near her.”
“Right, right,” Trent says.
“He’s not used to any girl being off-limits,” Jamie says. “And if you were smart, Prez, you would stay away from Bex Bryant. Coach will kick your ass.”
I snort. “I’d like to see him try.”
“You don’t want to get on his bad side,” Drake interjects. “We need all the playing time we can get this year if we want to get in the NHL.”
He’s right. No girl is worth jeopardizing my future. Contrary to belief, I can’t make a pro team just because my dad had talent. I have to prove I can hack it, too. And I have big shoes to fill. So do the rest of my friends.
Drake taps me on the arm, pulling me out of my thoughts. “I’m hungry. Let’s get something to eat before we head home. We’re out of food.”
“That’s because you ate it all,” Tucker growls.
“I want pizza from Gio’s,” Drake says.
I turn to Drake and shake my head, disappointed. “Our first game of the season is three days from now, and you want to eat junk food already?”
He holds up his middle finger with a stupid look on his face. “Kiss my ass, Cap.”
He calls me that because I’m the captain of our team.
I roll my eyes at him.
“Stop being such a hard ass, Prez,” Trent groans. “What’s one slice?”
“You take your captain duties way too serious,” Drake says. “If Trent and Tuck can have a beer every night, then I can eat pizza.”
“Fine,” I grunt. “If we lose on Friday, or you look like shit on the ice, I’m blaming all of you. All you do is jerk off.”
“More like jerk each other off,” Jamie jokes.
I laugh.
“Don’t be a dick.” Drake punches Jamie in his arm.
Jamie flinches from the hard hit and returns his gesture. “Asshole.”
This is a typical day for us.
We live in the same house together, eat most meals together, work out and play hockey together. Our lives are so intertwined we never have much space. Some days, I want to beat the living shit out of all of them just so they’ll give me some room to breathe. But they are family. And family sticks together. Even when they can be annoying as fuck.
