Page 24 of Shiver
“Why? I watch hockey too, you know. Not just play it.”
Haines nods. “Yep. It’s just… when I mention him, the first thing someone says is ‘you mean the gay hockey player in San Jose?’ like that’s what’s noteworthy about him. You didn’t say that.”
He’s not looking at me as he watches a group of girls pass us. I’m not sure what he needs me to say. “Well, I think his anger issues are more noteworthy than who’s in his bed, personally. I mean, we’ve all had hot women in our beds, no?”
Haines laughs. “Sure have.”
“There’s puck bunnies and jersey chasers in every sport. I’m sure that some of them have dicks instead of pussies.” I shrug.
His shoulders relax, and he releases a breath. “Yeah, probably. I think those with dicks aren’t quite as obvious, though.”
I go to argue, but then again, I haven’t really looked. The pretty girls hanging around jocks are eight deep on any given day. I’ve never had to look beyond the front line to see who’s waiting in the wings. Shallow maybe, but girls come easy. And until Temca, I’ve never cared enough to even learn their names. I’ve never found the same one in my bed twice.
Hm. I should probably call her to come over tonight. The girlfriend I’ve planned to keep. Hell, the woman I’ve actually called a girlfriend. My first, if we’re being honest.
We walk into the restaurant and don’t need to ask where our team is. They’re loud as hell, cheering and drinking as we approach. We’re immediately handed beers and a loud cheer is raised.
I take a seat as I sip my beer. Gross low carb shit that’s barely alcohol, but whatever. It’s beer. I can’t even remember when the last time I had one was.
“Surprised you’re here, man,” Jipson says as he sits next to me.
“Yeah, I got that impression when you asked earlier. Why?”
“You’re always studying.”
The way he says ‘studying’ is suggestive. As if he’s using it in place of another word. I raise a brow. “Three weeks into the semester and I was failing three of four classes,” I tell him flatly, watching his face as his brows rise in surprise. “I can’t just be good at hockey to keep my spot on the team. I need to keep my grades up.”
“And you have?” Valenti asks from the other side of Jipson.
“Yeah. I have a tutor. Pretty sure he speaks a magic language that makes everything in those damn books English,” I say, shrugging. Fighting to hide the grin behind a sip of beer. It’s true at any rate. I don’t know how he says things differently than how they’re said in the book, but somehow even chemical models are beginning to make vague sense.
“Magic tutor, hey?” Haines says. “Think you can share some of his time?”
I’m caught off guard by the sudden bitterness in my throat that nearly makes me choke on nothing. I’m sure as fuck not sharing his time. Oh no. I need all the help I can get. The thought of walking out of his room and one of my hockey mates stepping in after me makes me irrationally… annoyed.
We’ll just put a pin in that reaction to examine later. Or never. Whichever comes first.
“No,” I say flatly. “He’s a graduate student earning his PhD in biochemistry. I’m lucky he has time for me.”
“Where’s Temca tonight?” Jipson asks.
The abrupt change in topic has me looking at him. “Don’t know. She probably went out with her friends after the game.”
“Was she there?”
“Probably,” I tell him, shrugging. She’s always come to my games. I always see her sitting in the crowd, grinning at me with pride. Not that I looked for her tonight. “Why?” I ask.
“No reason,” he says, looking away.
“I’ve seen her with some of the soccer players recently,” Johnson says. “They seem friendly.”
I roll my eyes. “Should I call her up so you can accuse her of cheating on me in her presence?” I ask.
Johnson licks his lips as he looks at me. We hold gazes and I realize that the table has gone quiet. Eventually, he shakes his head. “Nah, man. Just an observation.”
I snort, turning back to the table and take a sip of beer.
NINE
