Page 21 of Shiver
I snort at his one-sided conversation. I read through them again, determining whether I actually need to address any of this. He gave up texting about twenty minutes ago when he didn’t get a response.
Choosing the last text, I respond.
Me
Did Coach make you do suicides for being late?
I hear a ping in the distance as soon as I hit send and look up. An unbidden smile crosses my lips when I see Egon walking by. I forget what he has right now, but I smile as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. The smile that spreads across his face makes me bite my lip. No, I refuse to acknowledge the way it makes my gut twist in appreciation. Or how my dick enjoys the sight of him getting excited over my text.
Especially when I finally notice the blonde on his arm. His little puck bunny with disproportionately large breasts that I’m sure throw off her center of gravity glares at his phone in his hand. I smirk at the way she’s looking at him. Jealous that she doesn’t have his attention.
When my phone vibrates in my hand, I grin all the more. I have his attention. And I’m not even there.
Egon Wolf
Nah. There’s an agent interested in talking to me after the game tonight. He was making sure I still planned to keep out of the NHL.
Me
Bet he was disappointed.
I know he was. Not that I’ve spoken to my uncle about this, but I know he has high hopes for Egon to go pro. He’s talked a big game for this kid. I also know my uncle has aspirations to coach pro hockey. The more successful NHL recruits he gets through his arena, the better.
This isn’t a conversation that I’d normally do through text. Not because I thought it deserved something more personal, but because there’s not many places for me to insert teasing, flirty innuendos. I keep it going because he’s responding. And pissing off his girlfriend while he does so.
Egon Wolf
Yea. I keep telling him that I love hockey and I do want a career in the sport. I just don’t want to play it.
Me
He’ll understand. Probably just wants to give you every chance to change your mind, so you have no regrets later.
Egon Wolf
Yep. I’m not upset about it. I know he means well and is looking out for me. Not placing pressure on me.
I have to shift my position to see him again. Egon’s already gone inside. However, his girlfriend has found other dicks to entertain her. I raise a brow and watch, momentarily ignoring the way my phone vibrates in my hand.
This isn’t another hockey player, but I vaguely recognize the guy from the soccer team. Is this the one Rykka was on about? Not that it matters. He’s got his hands on the blonde Barbie’s ass, hiking her off her feet while she fake-giggles and presses her chest to his.
I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can see the lust in his eyes.
Frowning, I turn away. Not my problem. Though my fingers hover over the keys to tell Egon to come back outside right this second, no questions asked, I don’t. While I’d like to pretend it’s because I don’t care, I close my phone without reading Egon’s last text because I know the truth.
I do care. And I don’t want to be the one to hurt him.
Sighing in exasperation, I walk toward the two who are now basically groping. I’m not an overly large guy, but I’m six-foot-nothing and almost 170 pounds with very little fat. So when I shoulder check them, they both nearly stumble to the ground.
I meet the angry glare of the girl as the guy laughs. I know when she recognizes me. Her eyes go wide. This time when I smirk, it’s because we both know that she’s in the doghouse.
EIGHT
EGON
Game days are probablymy favorite days. There’s nothing better than getting on the ice with spectators watching and showing them you’re kick-ass at your job. Not that this is my job. It’s more like an interview.
This is the game that Coach said an agent would be attending. He didn’t tell me which of my teammates was his focus. I know that three of them have entered the draft—Haines, Valenti, and Johnson. I’m still not sure why Hart hasn’t. Though I haven’t asked outright, I think he’s like me and plans to get his degree first.
