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Nothing short of hockey is going to be able to get thoughts of Phoebe out of my head right now.
Luckily, we have a game.
And we’re playing like a different team.
Ever since Shane fought for Lars, they’ve been totally on the same page. Lars is still a grumpy fucker and probably always will be, but he’s warmed up to us enough to actually play as a member of this team.
Not only do Shane and Lars function, they’re absolute dynamite together. Incredible passing and coordination.
With them working so well, we’re able to control the puck for longer, which means Aaron isn’t getting blasted with shots all game long. We get to see how good the kid really is, when he’s not playing at a disadvantage—and the answer is he’s fucking incredible.
He lets zero pucks through the net, while we score four of our own.
Our first victory of the season is a 4-0 shutout, and it’s pandemonium in the locker room after the game.
“Fuck yeah!” Shane jumps onto Lars’s ample back, wrapping his arms around his neck.
Lars doesn’t even try to shrug him off. He just rolls his eyes, although I can swear I see the barest beginnings of a grin on his usually straight lips.
Pride thrums in my chest as I look at them, as well as Aaron who’s being congratulated by a bunch of the players for his incredible performance tonight.
I find Liam and slap him on the back. “I think this team’s gonna be alright, Captain.”
“I think you’re right, co-captain,” he replies, drawing an eyeroll from me.
“Just gotta make sure of one thing before we leave,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“Bringing home one more Frozen Four Championship.”
We fist bump, just before Lars stumbles in front of us with Shane still clinging to his back.
“Drinks are on Lars at the bar tonight everyone!” Shane yells.
Lars’s eyes go big. “What? Fuck that.”
But no one can hear his protest over the cheers.
* * *
The whole teamis out at McGilligan’s, one of Ridley’s hottest bars, after the game.
Not only is Lars here with us, he didn’t even try to make an excuse to stay home.
I think he’s having a good time. I mean, he’s not smiling, he’s not laughing, he’s not very talkative, but he doesn’t look like he’s on the verge of punching someone, and when anyone talks to him, he nods more or less politely while looking away.
He even grunts out a one-word response now and then. When Shane talks to him, sometimes those responses can soar to two or even three words.
I smile over my pint glass. I honestly think those two are going to be best friends by the time this year is over.
I feel the warmth of a body next to me, pressing into my side.
When I turn my head, I see a girl with platinum blonde hair, puffy lips, long lashes, a dress that leaves very little to the imagination, and eyes that look at me like I’m her next meal.
One year ago, I’d have gladly wrapped my arm around her bare shoulders, pulled her closer, whispered sweet nothings (okay, more like unprintable obscenities) into her ear, and ended the night happily between her legs.
Tonight, though, my dick doesn’t even move a centimeter.
