Page 14 of Untouchable Player

When I don’t say anything, he goes on, “do you know how much your mother and I have poured into your hockey career…”

Here we go.I want to beg him not to do this again, because I know, I fuckingknowhow much they poured into it with the hopes I’d be able to pay them back one day. But guess what? I tried, I might be bad at studying, but I never once went out in a hockey game and gave it any less than one hundred percent. I never cared about my own safety. I’d stop a puck with my face if I had to. My shoulder still hurts sometimes, especially when I check someone into the boards in the same place, and it probably always will. I chipped my front tooth for fucks sake, and I did it all for hockey. The fact he doesn’t know that pisses me off.

I wait until he’s finished talking and tell him I know, and I’m sorry.

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, “just try harder.”

“Yes Sir.”

When I get back to the house, Jones and Clarke are getting ready to go to a party and ask if I want to come with. “Fuck yes.” I’m going to get annihilated tonight.

Nate

I’m still working my way through my reading list when Katie messages me.

‘Party tonight!’with a little party emoji.

‘Too much reading to do.’

I try to ignore my phone as I sift through the journal articles I’ve bookmarked online. But I can see it light up from the corner of my eye.

‘If you ignore me now I’m coming to your house and I know I can get your mom to help convince you.’

‘You’re evil.’

She sends me a winky face.

‘It’s September Nate, school has barely started, get your ass out of the house.’

She sounds so much like my mom it’s scary.

‘I’ll go for an hour.’Just to shut her up.

Mom’s watchingThe Real Housewivesof somewhere when I come downstairs.

She turns with a glass of rosé in her hand and looks me over, “you look nice honey.”

“Isn’t dad home yet?”

“Something came up at work, are you going on a date?”

My face flushes. “No, I’m just meeting Katie.”

“Okay well don’t drink and drive.”

“I don’t have a car, and I’m not even going to drink.”

“Have a couple,” she says, holding her own wine glass up, “live a little. Just don’t get messy, like these bitches.”

“Okay bye mom.”

I meet Katie at her apartment building where she lives just off-campus. It’s technically co-ed, but I mostly see groups of girlshanging out there. They look at me like I’m an intruder as I make my way to Katie’s room.

“It’s likeMean Girlsin here,” I say.

Her room stinks of perfume and a Stevie Nicks song is playing full blast.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” she says, “they were probably just checking you out, nice shirt by the way.”

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