Page 15 of I Blame the Alcohol

Casually intertwining his fingers with mine, I squeeze them reassuringly, “Hey, it’s just one date. I’ll be okay.”

Shooting me a weary smile, Cody bumps his shoulder into mine like the friends we will always remain to be.

“You’re not the one I’m worried about. You are going to eat that kid alive.”

I let out a light laugh, carefully tucking my own words back into a compartment buried deep inside me.

It’s just one date. You’ll be okay.

Chapter 5

Cody

“Again!”

Loud curses make their way up and down the court as my players re-assemble for another round of suicides. I’m right there alongside them, doing my best to speed up recovery through stubborn will power and sheer stupidity.

Suicides hurt like hell when you’re in the best of shape, never mind coming back from a cracked rib and six weeks’ worth of endurance.

Sucking in a painful breath, I spit out an equally painful reminder to the team, “If it hurts, think about how much it hurt when Silverwood beat us.”

Groans quickly replace the swearing, and with a blow of my whistle, we start running.

By the time the last player touches the final line, the rest of the team is collapsed on the ground, dosing each other off with water bottles. No one enjoys indoor practices but given the thirty centimeters of snow currently covering Taber’s lacrosse field, there isn’t much choice. Snow season came early this year so most of our fall tournaments got put on hold until the spring.

Even though we lost our undefeated title last game, it only counted as one loss under our belt, so our standing in the league was only slightly affected. The real test will be after the snow melts, when it comes down to taking home the championship banner or coming home empty handed.

“That last round was a low blow, Cap.” Huffing out a laugh, Mason shakes his head and chugs the rest of his water bottle.

Wes grins, “We must have been doing a different workout because that felt like foreplay to me.”

The remark sets off a round of wheezing laughter as I join the guys on the ground. With the exception of Nico, whose tanned skin seems impervious to blemishes, the rest of my players are rocking red faces and sweaty hairlines.

“Just making sure you'll miss me over the break.” I steal the water bottle closest to me and take a swig. My body aches with the motion, an unsubtle reminder that my recovery isn’t as complete as I’d like it to be.

Not that binge drinking on Tuesday nights is doing me any favours.

Using the corner of my shirt, I carefully wipe the perspiration lining my forehead. Nico, who is casually lounging on the gymnasium floor like he didn’t just run for the last two hours, catches the motion, and lets out a wolf whistle.

“Now that is a view I’ll miss over the break.”

I throw him a wink and let my shirt drop. Wes snaps upright from his position on the floor and points a finger in my direction.

“See? Foreplay.”

Mason chuckles, running a freckled hand through the red mop plastered against his forehead, “You guys should have seen Cap in his first year. The freshmen girls had a thing for short defensemen and would show up like groupies for every game.”

Wes’ jaw visibly drops as disbelieving mumbles go around the room. I’m pretty sure Hunter lets a “no way” slip out but ever since our bathroom rendezvous at the party, he’s been keeping a wide berth, so it’s hard to know for sure.

I hold up my hands in surrender, “The groupies weren’t for me, they were for Mighty Mo. That was the year Taber broke the record for five consecutive championship wins.”

Silence falls among the exhausted group, a respective silence that pays tribute to the graduated all-star and the legacy he left behind.

A legacy I’ve already managed to let down.

“Well, I can’t wait to make it six wins this year.” Wes’ voice breaks through my dismal thoughts and I smile at the natural display of leadership.

“Hell yeah, I’m graduating this year, so you already know the groupies will want to see me off.” Mason flips his sweat-soaked hair and pulls a pose that would make Zoolander proud.

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