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“One slice,” I tell Drake. “You were sluggish at practice.”
“Easy for you to say, Prez.” Drake gives me a nasty look. “You could eat ten pizzas and never lose an ounce of muscle.”
I ignore his comment. It’s not as easy for me to stay in game-ready shape as he thinks. I have to work my ass off. Living up to the Parker name is hard enough. Everyone compares my hockey stats to my dad. The pressure to be as good as him, or even better, is often suffocating.
The streets are crowded at this hour, with students scrambling back to their dorms. We cross to the other side, making our ways to Giovanni’s Pizza.
Trent taps me on the bicep with his elbow. “What were you talking to Coach’s daughter about? It looked pretty intense.”
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, right. That didn’t look like nothing to me.”
“I told her she was in the wrong locker room. And that she had a weird name.”
“So do you,” he challenges.
“That’s what she said.”
“Oooh.” Jamie slaps his hand on his thigh, laughing.
“Real smooth, Prez,” Drake says. “Like you have room to talk about weird names, Spidey.”
I punch him in the arm, almost knocking him off balance. “Call me that again and watch what happens.”
I hate being named after Spider-Man, all because my dad lost a stupid bet to Uncle Jameson before I was born. There was no way I was going to tell anyone my name was Peter Parker. The reactions I got when I was younger were enough to make me think twice about going to college with that name. I could imagine the NHL announcers laughing when they said my name on TV. To save myself from further humiliation, I use my middle name. It’s easier than explaining my life to strangers.
“Coach will rip your dick off if he catches you looking at his daughter like that again,” Trent says. “Don’t think we didn’t notice you eye-fucking the shit out of her.”
I wink. “Good thing he didn’t catch me.”
“Coach loves him,” Jamie counters. “He treats Prez like a son. I’m sure he’d give him a pass to hit that.”
“Now, I really can’t fuck his daughter… seeing as how that would make us related.”
He laughs, opening the door to the crowded pizzeria for me. “You got me there. But seriously, if you like her, I bet he wouldn’t care. He’d make an exception for his team captain.”
Would he, though? Doubtful.
We step inside to wall-to-wall booths filled with college kids. Some people are sitting at the bar that runs along the right side, shoveling slices into their mouths. Gio’s is the local hangout for most people on campus. The pizza shop is almost always open, making it the perfect place to come when you’re drunk and need a quick bite to eat.
“Great, nowhere to sit.” Drake glances around the room and rubs his stomach. “Maybe we should get a pie to go.”
“Nah, we can stand and eat,” I say.
Tucker points at a table of familiar girls. “I’m sure they would make room for us.”
I shake my head. “Been there done that. Stay away from the redhead. She’s batshit crazy.”
“I’d hit that,” Drake says.
Tucker makes a gagging sound. “I don’t do Parker’s sloppy seconds,” he says to mock my comment from earlier.
Jamie shrugs, unaffected. “Prez has good taste in women.”
“It’s called standards, something Tucker and Trent don’t seem to have.”
We stroll up to the counter, about to order when I hear Coach Bryant call my name. I look over my shoulder. He’s with his daughter in a booth by the window. She stares at me, with a slice of half-eaten pepperoni pizza in her hand. Grease drips down the right side of her mouth, but she doesn’t seem to care. I like this girl. Bex doesn’t give two fucks. Most girls would have blushed by now and wiped their face. Not Bex. Zero fucks given.
I walk over to their table, flanked by Drake, Tucker, Trent, and Jamie. Bex bites into her pizza, now ignoring me, while Coach slaps his hand down on the seat next to him.
“Why don’t you guys come sit with us.”
“Thanks for the invite, Coach.” I wave him off. “But we don’t want to crash your dinner.”
“No, that’s nonsense. I insist.” He looks to his daughter for confirmation. “Honey, you don’t mind, right?”
Bex shrugs and slides along the bench, moving her plate across the table with her. She finishes her slice and then wipes her mouth with a napkin.
“Have you guys met my daughter, Bex?”
“Not until she ran into me in the locker room earlier,” I admit.
Her eyes widen, as if I said something wrong.
Coach cocks a curious eyebrow at her.
“I lied about coming in through the side entrance,” she says to clear up his confusion. “I didn’t even know there was one until today.”
His cheeks flush once he realizes she walked through a crowded locker room full of naked men.
