Page 3 of Call the Shots
“Don’t talk to me.”
Elijah laughed. “Did you confer with our glorious captain yet?”
“I haven’t seen Oleksy?—”
“Oleksy dropped.”
Bear turned around, his voice deadly quiet. “I’m giving you ten seconds to explain.”
My eyes flickered to his. “You don’t know?”
“I’m not taking news from a stalker who can’t drive?—”
“Fuck you.”
“—which is theonlything you’re supposed to be doing.”
I hit the curb at Roman Villa, and Elijah jumped out, stretching his arms in a wide arc. “Half the transfers dropped when they saw the Colo. No renovations since February, and with Oleksy gone, our new captain is Denali Maddox.”
“You’re fucking with me.” Bear got out too. “DenaliMaddoxis our captain?”
“And Big Dick Bear is our photographer.”
Bear’s eyes flashed.Danger, danger.He stalked up to Elijah and snagged his shirt, yanking him forward. That was what Elijah loved best—pushing people until a fight broke out. Which I could’ve let happen. But while Elijah was a pain in the neck, his twin was one of my best friends. Zariah would’ve killed me if I stood idly by and watched her brother get torn to ribbons.
“Guys, break it up!”
“What the fuck did you say?” Bear snarled.
“Best photographer?” Elijah taunted. “Or should I say best model?”
I tried to get their attention until I realized that the golf cart wasn’t where I left it.
Because I forgot to put it in park.
“Bear!” I ran after the golf cart rolling down the hill. “That’s your luggage! It’s going to the lake!”
“Oh,shit!”rang in the air before his footsteps pounded the concrete behind me.
CHAPTER 2
BEAR
BAD NEWS OR WORSE NEWS?
After fishingthe golf cart out of the lake, I told June to fuck off because I didn’t want her waterlogging more of my shit. I didn’t care about Marrs, or the amenities on campus, or whatever dumb tour bullshit they had. I wanted to see where I’d spend most of my waking hours.
The Colosseum—nicknamed the Colo.
Elijah was right. They clearly let this puppy go.
The boards around the ice rink were cracked, and broken seats were shoved to the ends of the aisles like prepping for a bonfire. Graffiti lined the walls, lights flickered overhead, and the arena was topped off with a stale lighter fluid smell that made my head swim.
What the hell is this?
Denali Maddox stood by the rink. A center with some of the best scores in the nation, Denali was an uptight, pasty-faced prick. He had a beard that he left untamed during the season because he liked to tell reporters he had ‘better stuff to worry about.’ My old team in North Dakota called him Hairy Asshole but that nickname had to hang up its jersey, now that he was…
My captain.
