Page 29 of Unlovable Player

I ignore that and take a right onto Main Street.

“Do youwanteveryone to hate you?”

I shrug. Austin’s glare is so intense I swear I can feel it on the side of my face.

“They’re going to anyway, so why delay the inevitable?”

He sighs and throws his head back. “You’re more emo than my teenage cousins.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“No.”

I pass Gray and a couple of the guys on their way to the building where their favorite bagel place is and I swear Austin slumps down in his seat.

“Don’t wantbegels?”

“No. And why’d you say it like that?”

“Like what?Begels? That’s how you say it.”

“No it isn’t.”

“It is,” I laugh. “You have an accent.”

“Stop changing the subject. Coach just chewed me out because you can’t get along with anyone on the team.”

“Why is that your fault?”

“Because I’m the captain.”

Oh.

He straightens up and clears his throat. “Listen, if you don’t take hockey seriously, then you need to ask yourself what you’re doing here, because we do take it seriously, very seriously. This is our lives. And maybe you’ll give me one of your shit-eating grins and think it’s all funny, but it’s not funny to me. I’ve been busting my ass for years to get my ma out of her shitty job and her rented house. I’m making the NHL, no matter what, and if you’re not on board, then…” he shrugs “…you know where the door is.”

I swallow, glad I’m at a stop light, because I don’t think I could pay attention to the traffic right now. I’d never fully considered Austin’s life outside of this college. The fact he probably has a family counting on him succeeding. Someone who made sacrifices for him. Maybe his mom had to save up to buy him that Alfalfa suit (or whatever the brand was). Maybe his family don’t have money after all. And he didn’t mention a dad either.

I’m about to apologize when a horn makes me jump.

“It’s on green, go!”

“Oh, shit,” I put the car into drive, the car behind me siding up and giving me the finger.

Austin looks at me. “Should you be driving?”

“I’m fine. Shall we get some food? How about pizza?”

“We can’t eat pizza before a game, turn onto Pinecrest, there’s a good pasta place there, we can load up on carbs and protein.”

I do as he says, speechless for once.

At the pasta place, I try to pay for his food, but Austin waves my AMEX away and pays on a checking account card and shows his student ID to get discount. I never even consider asking for student discount, but I do it this time because Austin might be listening and I don’t want him to think I’m a rich asshole. Not right now.

We take our pasta loaded with veggies and chicken and sit in a corner away from the windows.

I let him eat at least half his bowl before I speak again.

“I’m sorry.”

---