Page 41 of Face Me Off

The corner of Easton’s mouth lifts to a smirk as he scoops a large spoon of mashed potatoes. “You know what we should do? Start a book club.”

“What the fuck?” Andrew asks. And I have to admit, it’s a rather weird suggestion. I turn to look at him, wondering what he’s getting at.

“Yeah, we can call it ‘Fifty Shades of Ice Hockey.’ Read all those popular smut books going around on social media and post about them. That’ll really impress ole’ Dr. Steinberg.”

“That’s called BookTok,” Jonas says. “It’s already being done.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” I ask, bewildered that my teammates mentioned books at all.

“Seriously. It’s a thing.” Easton grabs his phone, but I swat it away before he opens the app.

“We need to lay low, not attract attention.” Despite my seriousness, the table erupts in laughter. I cave and join in, relaxing some. Leave it to him to find humor in even the most frustrating situations.

Jonas takes a long pull of iced tea, still chuckling. “Speaking of our dear benefactor, who exactly is this Dr. Steinberg anyway? I mean, besides being a killjoy with deep pockets.”

I freeze, my sandwich halfway to my mouth. Steinberg’s name echoes in my head, triggering a faint memory I can’t quite grasp.

Easton leans back and taps his chin. “Dr. Alexander Steinberg is some hotshot alum, I guess. Probably made his fortune selling fun-sucking devices or something.”

Another round of laughter erupts, but I’m barely listening. Steinberg. Why does that name sound so familiar?

I rack my brain, trying to place it. Was he mentioned in one of my classes? Or maybe?—

“Yo, Ryan!” Drew’s voice snaps me back to reality. “You planning on eating that sandwich or just staring at it all day?”

I blink. Shit, how long have I been lost in thought? “Sorry, just … thinking about that physics test coming up,” I lie and shove down the nagging feeling about Steinberg’s name. Whatever it is, it can wait. My current focus is on the present, the team, and my school.

I take a big bite of my sandwich and force a grin. “So, what’s the plan for dealing with these new rules? Besides Easton’s brilliant book club idea, of course.”

Andrew leans back in his chair, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Speaking of plans, let’s talk about our absolute domination this season. Three straight wins, and we’re just getting started.”

I roll my eyes, but my chest swells with pride. We have been on fire lately.

Easton snorts, reaching across the table to flick Andrew’s ear. “Easy there, hotshot. Don’t want that big head of yours weighing you down on the ice.”

“Hey!” Drew swats Easton’s hand away, but his grin never falters. “I’m just stating facts. We’re unstoppable this year.”

“Maybe tone it down a notch, Drew. We’ve still got a long way to go,” I chuckle.

“Exactly,” Easton interjects, but his expression turns serious. “And speaking of going places, I heard a little rumor that might interest you guys.”

The shift in his tone catches my attention. I lean forward, my sandwich forgotten. “What kind of rumor?”

Easton waggles his eyebrows. “Word on the street is we might have special guests at our next game. The kind that carries clipboards and makes career-changing decisions.”

My heart skips a beat. Scouts. The word hangs unspoken in the air, electric with possibility.

A collective humming sound ripples across the table. No matter our endgame, everyone dreams of playing professional hockey.

Andrew’s cocky grin falters for a split second before returning full force. “Bring ’em on. I’ll give them a show they won’t forget.”

But he isn’t fooling anyone. His nervous energy betrays him as he fidgets with his napkin.

Swallowing hard, my mind races. Scouts mean a shot at the big leagues—turning my passion into a career, a dream I let slip away.

The pang in my chest tightens. If I don’t pass this next physics test, this sudden turmoil may be for not. I won’t be eligible to play.

I force a smile and hope it doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “That’s awesome news, Easton. About time they noticed us, right?”

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