AllFreeNovel
Share Us
We’ve all been known to slack on the academic side of things from time to time. Myself included. Our heavy schedule of practices and games takes up a huge chunk of our attention and effort; and the willingness of most professors to pass us with a C for minimal effort plays a role, too.
But Ryder was always the worst offender among us, by far. It’s still taking all of us time to adjust to how quickly and dramatically that’s turned around since last semester.
Mostly thanks to his new girlfriend, Candace.
Man, Ryder settling down with one girl is just as crazy as him actually putting effort into his classes. But last semester he sure did fall—hard.
“Very funny,” Ryder deadpans. He snaps his book shut and puts it back into his bookbag. “Had to have something to do while you inefficient derelicts took so long showering.”
“Those books must be paying off with that new vocabulary,” Hunter quips, earning him a smile and a middle finger from Ryder.
It’s the afternoon after the first day of classes, and we just had a practice. A relatively light one, as we have a home game against Virginia coming up on Wednesday.
I take a deep breath to steady myself as I think about the game. Nerves about an upcoming game are nothing new. Coach has always said that nerves are good, they show that you care. But lately it’s been different.
Because I know that next year, I need to be at my absolute best. Better than I’ve ever been, and then some. Because the entire Hot Shots team is going to be resting on my shoulders.
Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. But just barely.
This year, Tristan, Grant, Cole, and Ryder are all seniors. They’re all so good, and they’ve all performed so well this year, that it’s just about a sure thing that each of them will land a position on an NHL team next year.
For the last couple years, they formed a nucleus of talent that made the Hot Shots a perennial top team in the college league. And next year, that nucleus will be gone.
It’ll be like when a legendary player or coach moves on from a team that became a dynasty under their watch. Everyone will be expecting us to drop down the rankings. And next year, I’ll be the undisputed veteran on the team. The person everyone looks to, to keep that from happening.
It’s a level of individual, singular responsibility that none of the other guys have had to face during their college careers. If I don’t live up to the moment, not only do I let down the team that I’ve dedicated my life to for three years, but my prospects of transitioning to the pros will take a drastic hit.
“Alright, mates,” Grant exclaims in his booming British voice once we’re all dressed. “It’s time to find out what the fates have in store for us this semester.”
He reaches into his locker and pulls out a plastic bag stamped with a logo of the local Chinese restaurant, Lucky Chang’s. It makes a rustling sound as he shakes it up and down in his hand. We all know what’s in the bag producing that sound: fortune cookies.
Grant’s a quirk guy, and one of his biggest quirks is that he’s totally superstitious.
I mean, most athletes are, but Grant takes it to a different level.
Every time we go to eat at Chang’s and they give us a pile of fortune cookies with the check, he spends a good two or three minutes pondering over which one is “his”, and then he really puts a lot of stock into what the crinkly white paper inside has to tell him.
At the beginning and end of every semester, he gets a fortune cookie for each of us and has us open them together.
The guys chuckle and roll their eyes as we each grab a plastic-wrapped cookie from the bag.
Walsh, one of the younger starting players on the team and another guy who’s going to have to step up big time next year, reads his out first while he’s still chomping on a mouthful of cookie. “The road to success is always under construction.”
Grant nods his head sagely. “Exactly the kind of thing a young whippersnapper like you needs to hear.”
I open my cookie and read the paper. “Don’t be surprised if someone from your past makes an unexpected reappearance.”
It’s nondescript enough that Grant doesn’t even comment on it, and the rest of the guys go ahead and take their turns reading out whatever message their cookie holds for them. But I tune it all out, keeping the crisp white sheet of paper held tautly in my hands, my eyes fixed to it.
Someone from my past.
The words immediately send me back to Halloween night.
My memory floods with the girl I met at the bar, the way she immediately captivated me, and the dirty hookup we had that was so fucking hot that I still think about it every single day.
As blisteringly hot as that hookup was, that’s not even the only thing I think about. I think about the conversation we had, the electric and immediately chemistry between us unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. Something that, though itwasintensely physical, wasn’tonlyphysical.
At the end of the night, I gave her my number and she texted me. I was planning on texting her back once I got home, and hopefully to keep texting her until she arrived at Ridley this semester, like she said she was planning to.
