Page 20 of Jerk
Rye
“Rowen! You back on the team?”
Vince, one of our defensemen, greets me when I walk into Coach’s office, the smell of leather and sweat in the air. He sits in the large sofa in the middle of the oversized space, our logo embroidered into the leather.
“Coach around?” I ask, checking the clock on my phone to confirm I’m on time.
Vince shrugs, hockey highlights on the large flatscreen in front of him. Around him, glass cases hold trophies and medals from over the years, some older than our great-grandfathers. My eyes linger on a framed team photo. The Crowns stand in the middle, Gray and Mac on either side of me.
“Rowen, I got a question.” Vince appears by my side as my phone vibrates in my black denim.
“Bet you’re gonna ask it,” I respond, checking the notification.
Marisol: I got the job! Thank you :) Dinner later?
Ryung: can’t. busy.
“You and Hannah.” My eyes shoot up to him, my muscles tightening. “Are you guys a thing?”
Heat pricks my neck. “Why do you ask, Vince?” Stepping towards him, he takes a step back.
“I-I mean, I’ve been thinking about it. She hasn’t dated Mac in a while, and he’s with Ember now. B-but if you’re together then I-I swear I won’t.”
“Go for it, Vince.”
“You sure?” His brows knit. “‘Cause it sounds like Ishouldn’tgo for it.”
“Touch her,” I growl. “I dare you.”
“Rowen. You made it.” Coach’s voice comes from the door. “Vince, can you give us the room?”
Vince nods, heading towards the door. “We’ll circle back, Rowen!” He’s more annoying than usual today, but I don’t have the energy for that. Right now, it’s showtime.
“Coach. Thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to meet with me.” I use the business voice my father taught me so well, following as he moves towards his desk.
“Well, your parents are legacy students,” he says, sitting in his big leather chair. “It’s the least I can do.” Coach fits the classic description of one. Bearded. Dad bod. SBU sportswear. Wrinkled and tired from the overwhelming disappointment of never going pro.
“Thank you.” I can’t believe I’m sitting here, taking this shit because ofher. But if I want my life back, it’s worth it.
“So, you want back on the team after you fucked my wife and humiliated me in front of the entire town?” Coach always cuts to the chase.
So do I. “Correct,” I reply. “But first, I’m going to be a man and apologize for?—”
“Oh, an apology?” A voice comes from the door.
A voice that makes the hairs on my arm stand on end.
Turning to that voice, Hannah stands at the door in nothing but an SBU hockey jersey. My old one.
“Perfect,” she says, those glossy lips upturning. “I’m just on time.”
EIGHT
HANNAH
The lookon his face fuels me.
Surprise. Disdain.
