Page 62 of Wrong Pucking Player

“I keep up with my stretch routine,” Oscar replies. “I’m back-up goalie?” he inquires to Kane and Diesel.

“Nah, man. Who said you’d be backup?” Kane questions with an arched brow.

“You’re our goalie, Bro. Who’s spitting fake shit at you?” Diesel adds. From the rough sound of his voice, he’s ready to fuck up this person.

“Jayce,” Oscar mutters, which leaves the other two looking a bit sour at the news.

“What are you guys talking about?” Xandra asks midway from picking up Oscar’s phone. She pauses to give Muffin—or Mittens——a scratch behind her ear, the stillness giving me the chance to take in her perfect, plump ass.

And I’m not the only one looking.

All four of us are admiring the fitted booty I can already imagine sitting on my fucking face.

Fuck. What about fucking her pretty little ass…

I quickly clear my throat, prompting the others to look away and compose themselves.

A habit of ours.

Xandra is up and giving us a judgmental ‘what’ look, but I’m already attempting to move the conversation back on course.

“Armani, Sylvester, and Valerian are on the newest hockey team representing Saskatchewan. Think the name is Saskatchewan Pincer Blades, but it isn’t finalized. They’re a part of the new initiative being launched by the Strattonville Stadium and Hockey League Association. It’s a big thing the whole town is talking about.” I then point to Oscar. “Why would Winchester tell you that you’re backup goalie?”

Oscar just shrugs.

“So, I don’t show. I don’t know.”

That doesn’t sit well with me, or anyone else in the room from the way we’re all frowning.

Xandra walks over to us until she’s in front of him and offers his phone back to him.

“How long do you stay around something that’s toxic before you realize it has every intention of suffocating the life out of you?”

Her words leave us in a room of silence as Oscar looks directly into her eyes. They’re sharing a look, one I can remember has been shared in the past.

The only difference is that they’re no longer the early teen and young adult.

They’re both adults now who’ve grown into their own.

What I’m trying not to acknowledge is the chemistry these two always shared.

Leaving me to feel inadequate in some odd way.

“Until you’re about to take your last breath,” Oscar whispers as he claims his phone, but doesn’t take it out of her grasp. “And see with your own eyes the person’s true intentions.” He tugs his phone away, but he’s still inches from her face, his eyes still boring into hers.

“And if it kills you?” she dares ask.

That’s what makes Oscar grin, a full-on smile that replicates the image on his phone.

Only it’s directed solely at Xandra.

That’s ‘her’ smile.

Just for her.

“That’s the real problem, Andrews. I’m hard to kill.”

The crazy part is, I believe him.

---