Page 58 of Beyond the Lines
Can’t, really.
“And things with you and Mike are weird,” he says, pulling off a skate with a squelch. “You going to tell me what’s going on, or do I need to beat it out of you?”
The mention of Mike makes my stomach clench. Our communication on the ice has always been nearly telepathic—so good it used to freak the coaches out. And off the ice, we’ve been inseparable since our freshman year. But now, it’s like we’re speaking different languages and can barely stand each other.
I sigh and grab my shirt from the bench. “Remember that art project I mentioned?”
He raises an eyebrow. “The one where you got paired with some chick you hate?”
“Hate is a strong word,” I insist, pulling my shirt over my head. “She’s… she’s actually the girl I was telling you about at team dinner before the season.”
“Wait—Sienna? The one from the party? The one who—and I quote—” Linc’s voice takes on a mocking falsetto that sounds nothing like me, “‘looks like she fell out of a Renaissance painting’ and ‘gets my art in a way no one else ever has’?”
“I didn’t say it like that.”
“You absolutely did.” He grins, reaching out to slap me on the knee. “But that’s great, man!”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not great. She’s pissed at me because I didn’t tell her about hockey, and because I criticized her art. And her name’s not Sienna…”
“It’s not?” He freezes at the laces of his other skate, his face twisting in confusion. Then his eyes widen suddenly. “Dude! Is it a dude? Because it’stotallyfine if it’s a dude…”
“No, idiot,” I sigh. “Her name is Lea… and she’s Mike’s sister…”
Linc blinks. “Mike’s sister?”
“Yeah.”
“MikeAltman’ssister?”
“That’s what I said.”
A slow smile spreads across his face, and then he throws his head back and laughs. Not a polite chuckle—a full-body, loudly echoing, you’re-so-screwed laugh. It goes for at least fifteen seconds, and by the time he’s done, there are tears in the corners of his eyes.
“It’s not funny,” I mutter, shoving my practice gear into my bag with more force than necessary.
“It’s a little funny.” He wipes his eyes, still grinning. “You spend three seasons avoiding the puck bunnies, and the one girl you actually like is Mike’s sister…”
“First, I don’t like her,” I lie,almostmanaging to convince myself, despite my residual anger at Lea. “Second, she’s mad at me. And third, she’s Mike’s sister…”
“Since when do you care what Mike thinks?”
“He’s our captain and my friend.” I zip my bag roughly. “And his sister just went through a bad breakup.”
Linc waves dismissively. “So she had a shitty ex. Nothing getting fucked properly won’t fix.”
“Jesus, Linc.” I scowl at him, although my dirty mind flashes an image of Lea, naked, beneath me in bed…
“I’m just saying?—”
“She’s not some random hookup. She’s Mike’s sister. And even if she wasn’t, that’s not really—” I stop, frustrated. “It doesn’t matter anyway. She hates me.”
He grins. “Perfect!”
“Perfect?” I stare at him. “What part of this clusterfuck seems perfect to you?”
“Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen, dumbass.” He taps his temple like he’s divulging some profound cosmic insight. “It’s like, a rule of the universe.”
“Pretty sure it’s a rule of Linc…” I sigh.
