Page 30 of Unlovable Player

He glances up, but carries on eating.

“I do take it seriously.”

He rolls his eyes.

“Seriously. I… hockey’s the only thing I’ve got that’s actually mine.”

He slows down but doesn’t stop eating. I’m glad he’s not looking at me, because I actually think I’m blushing.

“I know you think I have everything, but there’s nothing in my life that comes without strings. Usually emotional blackmail, or expectations.” I clear my throat. I still have half a bowl of pasta, but I don’t feel like eating anymore. “As soon as I graduate, I’m going to go work for my dad’s company. He’s a financial advisor and I have exactly zero interest in any of it, but I don’t have a choice. Never have.”

I wait for the violin comment. An eye roll.

He stops eating and takes a sip of his water, finally looking at me.

“So why don’t you just tell him you don’t wanna work for his company?”

I snort. “Yeah, that’d go down well…” I clear my throat and put on a deep voice. “Do you know how much I’ve invested in you? Swiss boarding schools, two BMWs, a Rolex, three years of Yale.” I can feel Austin’s eyes on me and my cheeks flush.

“So give him the Rolex back and tell him you’ll pay him off in instalments until your eighty.”

When I glance at him, there’s a twinkle of humour in his eyes.

“He’ll cut me off,” I say in a small voice.

“So what? You’re scared of being poor?”

I swallow. This is getting a little too deep. I shrug, like it doesn’t matter. “I’m used to having money, I wouldn’t know how to live without it.”I don’t have anythingbutmoney.

He looks like he’s biting the inside of his lip. “I get it,” he says.

“Youget it? The guy who referred to me as ‘rich boy’ with a snarl for three years on the ice.”

“You referred to me as ‘pretty boy’, we all say things we don’t mean.”

Things we don’t mean?

“People who say money doesn’t matter have never been poor.” He picks up his fork and starts eating again, stabbing at the remaining vegetables. “Having money means being able to see a doctor when you’re sick. Or getting a filling when you have a toothache. It means being able to tell your landlord to go fuck himself when the roof’s leaking and he won’t do shit about it. It means not having to work double shifts at a diner when you should be doing what you love. Being able to pay your kid’s college tuition, hockey camp, new skates-” He puts his fork down and sinks into his chair. “So I get it. I don’t blame you for not wanting to be poor.”

He looks so raw and vulnerable right now. I want to give him something back.

“Do you want to know why I had to leave Yale?”

He frowns. “I thought you got transferred?”

I scoff. “Like you guys needed me. You’re the best team in the league. No, my dad used his connections to get me in. It was a good cover story, for why I’d ever choose to leave Yale.”

He shuffles uncomfortably. Well, if he already hates me…

“I had an affair, with my professor.”

He blinks.

“A man.”

“I guessed.”

“Someone filmed us… having sex, and sent it all over the school.”

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