Page 3 of Shiver
In fact, as I stare at the ice, he intercepts a pass and is already gone as he shoots toward the other end. While he might have had a shot, he passes instead. Getting himself an assist when his forward finally catches up and makes himself open.
“What would it look like if there was someone who just clicked with him on the ice?” I murmur, already seeing the magic in phantom shadows if that were to happen.
“Nice assist, Wolf,” Coach Nemaczekk calls. “Move faster, Jipson.”
I smirk, watching as Jipson tips his head back and stares into the bright lights overhead with a frustrated sigh.
TWO
EGON
“No, no, no,”I murmur, clutching my phone in my hand as I peer at the screen. I have my student portal up as I check on the recently posted grades.
Dread seeps into my stomach as I see I am now officially failing three of my four classes. My stomach rolls with the idea that I might be failing the fourth, too, but the instructor hasn’t posted grades yet.
“I can’t,” I murmur, wanting to sink down and bury myself under the benches.
I barely managed to scrape by the last two years and only because I somehow happened to get lucky and squeeze in a couple easy courses each semester to balance out the harder ones. I’m not so lucky this semester. I’m out of easy classes.
But the failing Ds are screaming up at me.
Exercise Physiology—D.
Molecular Toxicology—D.
Models of Chemical Systems I—D.
Health Psychology—B.
The B won’t last, though. The teacher is behind in posting grades. So, only two are represented right now and they are from the first week, introductory assignments.
“Wolf!” I flinch at my teammate as he comes to a stop next to me. “You know how to open the door, right?”
He’s smirking at me, teasing. Dumb hockey player can’t open the door. Ha. Ha. I appreciate that we can rib each other. It makes the locker room less tense.
I can barely manage to find it in me to smile, though. Caulder Haines’s smile dies as he stares at me. “Who’d you knock up?”
My brows knit together. “What?”
Caulder laughs. “Man, the look on your face. You look terrified.”
My heart is racing at the thought that I have a fucking kid growing out there somewhere. “Jesus fuck, Caulder. Not funny.”
“Temca not interested in reproducing?” He winks at me.
I frown. Temca is my girlfriend. A puck bunny who’d been hinting and flirting for the past year until I finally decided I was ready to settle down.
“No. Ah, I don’t actually know that answer but still—no!” I say.
Caulder laughs.
From behind, we’re pushed forward. “Come on, guys. We’re late, and Coach will make us lick the ice until it's smooth or some shit,” Jipson says, pushing us through the door.
I click my phone off and stuff it in my pocket. No time to dwell on grades right now. I have practice. There will be plenty of time to panic after.
Half our twenty-man roster is already there and suiting up in their compression garments and pads. I drop my bag into my cubby and begin stripping out of my clothing, using the same pattern I always do.
Shirt. Kick shoes off. Pants. Underwear.
