Page 59 of Beyond the Lines
“Well, even if you want to be a pussy, maybe there’s a reason you both keep ending up in the same place.” He pulls off his other skate.
“Yeah, shit luck.”
“Or maybe”—he grins—”she’s not as off-limits as you think.”
“Great…” I snort. “Now I just have to get through six weeks of life drawing…”
His head pops up, eyebrows comically high. “Wait—life drawing?”
I sigh, knowing where this is going. “Yeah.”
He grins. “Isn’t that where they have naked models and shit?”
“Yeah, but?—”
“Holy shit! And you’repartnering upwith her?” A mischievous grin spreads across his face. “Does that mean you’re going to see Mike’s sister naked?”
The question sends my brain spinning into dangerous territory. Before I can stop it, a vivid image flashes through my mind: Lea reclining on the drawing table, completely nude. Her olive skin glowing under the studio lights, shadows playing across the dips and valleys of her body.
Those dark curls framing her face, cascading over her shoulders like silk. Her small, perfect breasts with nipples hardened in the cool air, begging to be touched and warmed. The gentle curve of her waist flaring out to hips I could grab onto while I?—
No.
Stop.
“Dude, you still with me?” Linc’s voice snaps me back. “You went a million miles away…”
“What?” I blink, heat rising to my face. “No—no, we don’t strip down. The class has professional models for that.”
I adjust my position on the bench, suddenly uncomfortable in my jeans. Linc studies me for a second, then he grins and picks up his hockey stick. A second later, he’s hitting me in the balls with it, no doubt confirming to himself that the brief flash of… whatever that was… about Lea has got me hard.
“Holy shit!” Linc explodes with laughter again. “You’re thinking about boning Mike’s sister!”
“Keep it down!” I hiss. “If he comes back into the rink and hears you, we’llbothbe dead…”
“Right.” Linc smirks. “But youare, right? And that’s why you’ve been playing like shit—because you want her, and she’s mad at you…”
I sigh. Linc may be crude sometimes—hell, heisthe campus man-whore—but deep down he’s got a heart of gold and a knack for getting people to open up and find their way to the truth. He’s done it for years at the team dinners, and in side chats with any number of teammates, and he’s got me by the balls right now.
“Look, Linc,” I say. “She’s in my head and I can’t stop thinking about her, and the night we had after the party, OK?”
He nods. “I sense abut…”
“Butshe’s alsomegapissed at me, I’m a little pissed at her, and I just can’t get past the fact that she’s Mike’s sister.” I shake my head, trying to dislodge the mental image of naked Lea that stubbornly persists. “And if I keep playing this badly, I’m going to ruin Mike’s shot at the pros.”
“Mike’s shot?” Linc frowns, but I notice he doesn’t argue I’ve been playing like ass. “What about yours? Aren’t you worried about your chances?”
The question hangs in the air between us, heavier than it should be. I’ve avoided thinking about this—really thinking about it—for months now. But it’s there. Because, while the NHL tried to recruit me out of high school and has tried every year since, and while everyone assumes I’ll go pro…
“I’m not so sure that I want to go pro anymore,” I say, like I’m in confession.
Linc stops moving, his shirt half over his head. “The fuck you say?”
“Look,” I say, suddenly exhausted. “Despite everything with Lea, I’m actually enjoying my life drawing class. Art in general, really.”
“But hockey?—”
“Has always been the plan,” I finish for him. “I know. But lately, when I think about what I’d rather be doing, art wins every time.”
