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“Shit.” He groans and crumples to the floor.
“Not so good at blocking when you’re fucked up are you?” Holt is a typical enforcer. He loves being the bad guy. It’s why I texted him first to get down here.
“No.” Luca groans again.
“Let this be a lesson to you all.” I stop Holt from giving any more dick slaps.
Luca will be fine. He stood right up when I got in front of him.
“This will never happen again. We don’t party like this when we’re away. We conduct ourselves in a respectful and professional manner. We’re here to play hockey. Got it?” I ground out, eyeing each one of them.
“Aye aye, captain.” They all say in unison.
I’m about to dismiss them when there’s a clap from the stairwell.
“Everyone, back to your rooms!” Coach yells out from the doorway. “Now!”
The four of us stand waiting for our fate as the freshmen all frighteningly scramble to their rooms.
He motions for us to come closer.
“Good work guys. I suspect everything was handled.” He sizes each one of us up. “I got a call from the front desk about a guest’s young teenage daughter and her friends coming back to their rooms drunk. Were they here?”
“No idea, sir.” Holt is the first to answer and the rest of us clench our jaws.
“Ok, nothing serious happened to them, the parents were just concerned over the drinking.” That’s good news at least. “Jesus Holt, go put some clothes on.” Coach eyes him in disgust.
Holt smirks. “Yes, sir.”
He disappears and we all follow back to our rooms as Coach dismisses us.
That could’ve been a lot worse.
It will be for the freshmen who had the party. But if we didn’t intervene, the whole team would’ve gotten our asses handed to us.
I head to bed pissed off.
I’m angry at those fucking freshmen and I’m angry at myself for how things went with Lenny.
I don’t know how I can come back from this.
The next day we rode the bus back to Drexton Hall.
The freshmen are all groaning and trying hard to stay awake. We have to watch game tapes while the coach goes over new plays, with only small breaks in between.
We force all those freshmen to sit up front, right in the coach’s line of vision. None of them get an opportunity to slack off.
“So, do you have a date tonight or what?” Greg asks, at our first rest stop.
“Did you finally call Lenny?” Holt grunts from behind him. I give him a questioning look. “What? I think I heard your whole conversation Monday. Plus, you haven’t stopped staring at her picture every night. Did you at least have phone sex? It sounded pretty close.”
“No!” I cut him off. “I was on the phone with her last night in the stairwell, and no I didn’t get a chance to ask her out, because these douchebags had to have a party that I had to break up.”
“Did you call her after?” Greg asks.
“No. Just forget it. She heard two girls hitting on me and sounded upset. It was just bad timing.” I kick my foot in the gravel.
It’s always bad timing.
