Page 58 of Wicked Ends
The players glided out onto the ice to begin warm-ups. Since I hadn’t been to a game in Hade Harbor yet, I wasn’t up on who the favorite players were.
“Man, I thought you were a hockey fan! The Ice Gods are Hellion royalty. We’ve got Asher Martino, Beckett Anderson, Cayden West, and Marcus Bailey… they are as talented as they are insufferable,” Bill complained.
“Whatever, you love them really.” Sally elbowed him. “They just don’t know you exist.”
“And that is very cruel of them. I mean, do I fantasize about enticing some young, hot, sporty jock into temptation, sure… but the Ice Gods are a lot to handle.”
Marcus was an Ice God. That tracked with his arrogance and confidence. He probably had hot young girls on campus sighing over his every move. A twinge of something that felt dangerously like jealousy tugged at me.Nope. Not going there.Even a few years ago when I had been a young thing on campus, I wasn’t the kind of girl an Ice God would notice…
“But you’d love to handle them, Sally, admit it,” Bill was teasing her.
“Please, I prefer my men on the rough side…”
“Like a biker?” Wade cut in and raised an eyebrow at Sally. “I swear you guys will all have FOMO one day. You should be going out and doing whatever you want… like me.”
Bill and Sally both wrinkled their noses at that and spoke at the same time.
“Pass.”
“Jinx!” Sally crowed. “If I ever got my hands on one of those padding-covered hockey snacks down there, I wouldn’t be discarding them the next morning like they were a used tissue. It’s gross, Wade.”
Wade raised an eyebrow. “First of all, I’d never refer to a woman I’d bedded as a used tissue, so you’re the gross one. Second, every single lady I entertain after office hours knows the deal.I don’t try and sugarcoat my reputation. I am loud and proud about what I want. I believe in free will in this country.”
It seemed I was the only one wrestling with the morality of being involved with a student. It didn’t make me feel better. Wade wasn’t a person I respected.
“Okay, enough conversation for today, or I’ll need someone to pass me a puke bucket,” Bill snapped and pointed to the ice. “Let’s watch the damn game.”
I turned my attention to the players. They were still warming up, circling the ice and stretching. I didn’t know what three out of four of the Ice Gods looked like, but I still spotted them right away. There was something about players who had that next-level talent, the ones who knew how to live and breathe the game, that set them apart.
My eyes were drawn to Marcus immediately. He was warming up near the goals, swathed in the extra padding that only goalies wore. Despite that, I could tell it was him.
“The Professor Casanova nickname is a joke,” Wade said beside me.
I turned reluctantly toward him. I didn’t really want to make small talk. I wanted to watch the game, and one player in particular.
“Oh, really?”
Wade nodded. “I’m popular, like any moderately good-looking guy on the faculty might be.” He paused, clearly giving me an opportunity to tell him he was more than moderately good-looking.
“Right,” I agreed instead.
He coughed a little, clearly surprised by my agreement, but forged on.
The buzzer rang, and the game started with strong possession of the puck by the Hellions’ forward, West (who I was only able to identify thanks to the name on his jersey). He raced down the ice, closing in on the opponents’ goals.
“You see, when you teach romantic literature and poetry, well, it can open up a whole new world up for female students… especially ones who are only used to getting dick pics in messages, rather than a love letter.”
“Sorry, what?” I hadn’t been listening, instead watching how Marcus saved an almost guaranteed goal by failing to fall for the shooter’s tricks, and jumping left instead of right.
The audience cheered. The energy in the stadium was electric.
He glanced up in my direction, and even though it should be impossible through his helmet and the distance and partitions between us, I felt his eyes on me.
“I mean, what kind of texts do you get? Anything that makes your heart pound?” Wade was asking.
I dragged my attention back to him. I wryly wondered if sexy threats counted as something that made my heart pound, before shaking my head.
“Exactly my point. A young, beautiful woman like you should be getting handwritten poems.”
