Page 65 of A Little Complicated

When I do, he hesitates, searching my expression. “You sure you’re okay?”

I open my mouth to answer, but he tilts his head toward the bench. “Take a seat. Get some more water. From now on, no drinking the night before practice. Not if it’s gonna fuck you up like this.”

“Yes, Coach.” Slipping past him, I collapse onto the long bench and rest my elbows on my knees, attempting to catch my breath and calm my unsteady, racing heart.

Today’s a bad day. Like my body’s been filled with sandbags, and a semi-truck sits on my chest. But even my shitty body can’t erase the impending ice plunge and kissing booth, my brother dating my ex, or why I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin.

Then again, it’s just another day as Maverick Buchanan.

22

OPHELIA

The place is buzzing. Seriously. I had my first practice a few days ago with the girls, and they weren’t kidding when they mentioned how much hype had been building around the yearly Lockwood Heights carnival. The fact they let us rent some booths with such short notice is a freaking miracle. Well, that, or Jaxon kissed up to the chairwoman and finally asked her on a date. Ms. Thompson might be a billion years older than him, but if it gives the girls’ team an opportunity to earn some buzz, I won’t judge. I was a little nervous, considering how fall semester hasn’t started, but everyone is right. Lockwood Heights loves its hockey. If we’re lucky, their love for the sport might also extend to the new female division.

I’ve been manning the ticket booth for about an hour, but my gaze won’t stop falling on the oval blue bathtub set up on the grass beside the entrance. Sanderson keeps filling it with ice chunks, making sure the not-so-little cubes stay floating in the crystal-clear water.

The goal is to see if you can make it to twenty seconds. If you can, you win a free churro or cotton candy from the food stand, along with bragging rights. Or, you can use your ticket to send one of the players into the icy depths, making them earn the treat for you. The men’s hockey team is all lined up, taking turns in the frigid pool as a timer counts down a few feet away. It’s kind of brutal but hilarious, too, since I’ve only seen a handful of people who aren’t on the team attempt the challenge. The guys are lucky it’s blistering out here. At least they warm up relatively quickly, thanks to the hot sun hanging high above us. I lift the neck of my black tank top and fan myself. It’s so hot the icy water isalmostappealing as Everett grips the side of the bathtub.

“Three. Two. One,” the petite blonde chants beside him. She must be the one who used her ticket to get him all wet and half-naked. As soon as she reaches zero, Everett makes like a bunny rabbit and hops out of the water. His mouth is the shape of a large “O,” and his entire body shakes like a leaf while the rest of his teammates laugh at him.

Yeah, the ice plunge is a definite fan favorite, considering how many girls are circling it. Each of them takes a turn offering tickets to the players. Maverick’s been in the water at least a dozen times and lost his shirt thirty minutes ago, letting the sun warm his tan skin as he hangs out next to the timer. Part of me still itches to take a closer look at his tattoos. I almost did when he was drunk off his ass. But it’s strange. Seeing how different he is now. The tattoos are a reminder of exactly that. He isn’t the same boy, and I can’t help but miss him.

Maverick chats with Reeves when another girl offers him a ticket. “Do it for me, Mav,” she begs. “Please?”

Gag.

I wish they’d scoot the ice plunge a little farther away so I wouldn’t have to witness all the girls drooling over my childhood friends, but it seems I’m not so lucky. At least Archer isn’t here, and I don’t have to witness them drooling over my boyfriend too. I roll my eyes and turn back to the line of customers purchasing tickets.

A loud squeal distracts me as Maverick bends down and splashes the girl with a handful of water. I scoff, pulling his attention.

“There a problem?” he calls across the grassy ten-foot space separating us.

“No problem.” I hand an old couple their change as Maverick passes the blonde off to Reeves and strides toward me.

When he reaches me, he asks, “You sure?”

I cross my arms, giving him my full attention. “Okay, but for real. Haveanyof the girls gotten in, or are they all playing the damsel in distress card?”

“Damsel in distress,” he confirms, mirroring my stance and giving me front-row seats to the gun show.

Hello, muscles.

“Why do you ask?” he prods.

My attention slices from his biceps up to his face. “I don't know. No reason, I guess.”

“You sure?”

“Mav,” the girl whines from behind him. “Come win a churro for me!”

“I find it a little pathetic, is all,” I rush out, attempting to drown out her nasally voice. “It’s not like it’s difficult to get any of you guys in your underwear or anything, so why pay for it with a ticket? Why not corner you guys at SeaBird?”

His mouth lifts. “You hate the ice bath.”

“I don’t hate it.”

“Uh, yeah, you do. You loathe it and always lie to your coaches and physical therapists whenever they ask you—”

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