Page 44 of The Fake Date Agreement

I know all that.

I fail this paper, I fail the module. It doesn’t matter that I’ve already passed all my other modules with flying colors. I need this one to graduate.

Yeah, I could say fuck it, I’m going into the NHL, and blow off school. I wouldn’t be the first or the last to do it, but I don’t want to shrug it off.

Education is important. Ryder always made time to sit with me and help me with my homework after our parents died.

I want him to be proud of me and not see me as a fuck-up who tripped over the last hurdle to graduation and face-planted inches from the finishing line.

I can’t do that to him after he sacrificed so much for me.

“I’ll get it done, Professor,” I reassure him.

He gives me another probing look and passes me a sheet of paper.

“What’s this?” I ask as I take it.

“My office hours. If you need to see me outside of those times, let me know, and I’ll try to move things around.”

Not everyone lucks out with a good teacher, but Professor Amstutz is solid. He can never do enough for his students.

“Sure,” I tell him as I stuff the paper in my pocket and get to my feet.

As I leave his office, my phone vibrates against my left butt cheek, and I fish it out, grinning when I see who’s calling. “Hey!”

“I had just about the best news I could have today, little brother.”

Ryder works a mix of day and night shifts at a factory that manufactures car parts in Wexler, Iowa. It’s a job my brother hates, but no other company hires as many locals. He said he’d ask the foreman about taking the weekend off to come see the big game. From his good mood, I can guess the foreman’s answer.

Everyone always says we look alike, and we do. We have the same big shoulders, and his eyes are a slightly darker shade of gray. Except he has a beard he’s growing out. He’s almost alwayswearing a Wolverines’ jersey with my name on the back. He’s that proud of me.

“You got time off.” I let the faculty building door slam shut behind me and walk to my dorm to get some reading done before I have to get ready for this party tonight.

We typically have Sundays free, but Saturdays are up in the air if we don’t have a game. Friday or Saturday night is almost always a game day. Otherwise, we’re resting or hitting the gym for conditioning with the trainer.

“The entire weekendandthe Monday,” Ryder continues. “Means I won’t be puking over my seat mate from the epic hangover when we’re through celebrating.”

I laugh. “Dude. Scale it back. Maybe wait for us to win the thing first before you start planning out the cocktails and the scale of hangover you expect, huh?”

“The championship is yours,” he says, no hint of doubt in his voice. “No one has come close to touching you this year. First drink is on you, and it better be a double.”

“A triple. After everything you did for me, it’s gonna be a triple shot of whatever you want. Fuck it, the entire night is on me.” I head for the dining room to grab some food so I won’t have to cook, waving at familiar faces on my way. “You realize you can quit working at that factory any time you want. What you should be working on is your coaching qualifications.”

“No one is going to want to hire a dropout with no coaching experience. With or without quals, Reid.”

“You coached me,” I remind him.

“Anyone could have with your talent,” he says.

I stop. “You can do better than the factory, Ryder.”

“I don’t need to do better. I’m fine as I am. How’s school?”

I consider pushing, but there’s no pushing Ryder Graves into doing what he doesn’t want. “No one cares about school with the big game looming.”

He’s the only one who’s asked how my classes are going. All everyone else wants to know is if I’m ready for the big game.

“I care, and so should you. You won’t always have hockey, Reid. A backup career is never a bad idea.”

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