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After my encounter in the locker room with Bex Bryant, I can’t get her out of my head. But she’s my coach’s daughter and completely off-limits. So I have to push the image of her in a pair of tight spandex shorts out of mind. I have to forget about how good she looked in a basketball jersey.
I walk across campus with a few of my teammates, who I’ve known since we were babies.
Tucker Kane yells to a group of sorority girls and whistles at them.
“Didn’t you hook up with them last year?” I ask him.
He runs his fingers through his spiky blond hair, confusion scrolling across his face. “I don’t know. Did we?”
I laugh as Tucker speaks for both him and Trent. Compared to the Kane twins, the rest of us look like saints. They move on from girls faster than it takes to lace a pair of skates.
“I didn’t,” Drake Donovan chimes. “There’s no reason we can’t share, Prez,” he says with a wink.
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 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 sloppy seconds.”
Drake is the son of Carter Donovan. He’s one of the best goaltenders in the division. At six-foot-seven, Drake has a few inches on me. He’s built like his dad, a giant whose muscular body blocks the net.
Jamie laughs. “You better look for girls on another campus then.”
Our parents grew up together in foster care and raised us like brothers. My uncle Jameson is the reason I’m named after Spider-Man. He won a bet with my parents, and I got stuck being Peter Preston Parker. All of us grew up with skates on our feet and on the ice together, knowing what it’s like to have famous parents. It’s also what bonds us.
“Did Coach Bryant’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. “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 comments with a lazy grin.
“But she’s Coach’s daughter,” I shoot back. “He would flip his shit if I went anywhere near her.”
“Right, right,” Trent says.
“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 into the NHL.”
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. I have big shoes to fill, as do the rest of my friends.
“And let’s not forget about The Queen,” Trent adds. “She’s been looking for dirt on us. Don’t give her any, Prez.”
“She’s got it out for Tucker, not me.”
“Correction,” Tucker says with his hand raised. “She has it out for all of us. Or did you forget that when she put all of us on blast last week after the party at Delta Sig?”
Drake snorts. “How could we forget? She posted pictures of us half naked.”
