Page 10 of Just Friends
“Yeahhh, that hat looks pretty gross, sis.”
“How’s Jax doing, anyway?” she asked.
“He’s fine. It’s his off-season, but he’s sticking around Dallas for the summer.”
“Probably because he doesn’t want to go anywhere withoutyou,” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows.
“No,” I said with certainty, “pretty sure it’s because he’s training with his teammates.”
“But you guys would besocute together, you know,” she said. “Every time I video chat with you and Jax, that’s all I can think.” She paused. “That, and Jax justoozesbig dick energy.”
I snickered. I guess it’s technicallytrue—if anyone oozed “BDE,” it’d be Jax—but even jokingly speculating on the theoretical size of my friend’s anatomical parts made me feel a little uncomfortable.
“We’re just friends, Paulie. It’d be like if I told you that you should get with Matthew.”
Her mouth contorted, thoroughly repulsed at the idea of dating one of her closest male friends. “Uhhhh.Ew.”
“Exactly.”
“Hey, how’s your dating app coming along?” she asked.
“It’s atonof work,” I said. “Speaking of, I hate to be rude, but I really gotta get back to it. The launch is just a few weeks away.”
“Yeah, I should get back to work, too.”
I waved at the camera. “Bye, Paulie! Love you!”
“Love you, too!”
I hung up. Before I got back to work, I stared at my phone, a sinking in the pit of my stomach.
Man, I worry about them …
4
Jax
Hockey was in its off-season, but instead of enjoying the cool sand between my toes, ice crunched beneath my skates in an empty arena in Dallas.
The Devils were split into two squads, white and dark. We’d lost track of the score long ago. Not that the score mattered—there were no fans in the seats, no coaches behind the bench. After a few hours of scrimmage, both squads were dead tired. The team leaders convened and determined that the next goal won bragging rights for the rest of the night.
Funny, isn’t it, how a small spark of motivation can give a big boost to a pair of dead legs?
Dane DeHardt is our team captain—but today he wore a white jersey, and I wore a dark jersey, which meant I’d do anything to stop him,especiallywhen the next goal was the one that mattered.
Dane zigged and zagged, trying to shake his defender—me—and gain access tothe prized middle of the ice. An agonizing fire burned deep within my quads, but Iwould notlet my feet stop moving.
Refusing to give Dane alane to the inside, I gave the captain plenty of ice to the outside, purposely baiting him wide. Once I’d corralled the captain close enough to the boards, I lowered my shoulder and launched myself through the air.
A thunderousboomechoed throughout the empty rink as I smashed Dane into the boards.
“GO GO GO!” I yelled to my teammates, snatching up the loose puck. My legs unspooled and I chugged up ice, head up, eyes scanning for a breakout pass.
Aleksander Nikolaev, our young superstar, had coasted and lollygagged all afternoon. But Niko lives to be a star—and with the game now on the line, his killer instinct had suddenly awoken.
He exploded up ice, blazing past our opponent’s tired defense.
“BIG RIG!” the Russian shouted—though with his accent, my nickname sounded more likeBeeg Reeg. “OPEN!”
