Goal Lines & First Times (CU Hockey 3)

I think I’ll shut my mouth from complaining about the dorms ever again. “That’s, uh, rough.”

And that’s so not what you say to someone who’s grieving, dumbass. No shit it’s rough.

Thank God for McIntyre’s. As soon as we enter, I lead him to a booth. “What are you drinking? My treat.”

“Beer. Whatever they have on tap is fine.”

“Cheap and nasty on the way.”

He doesn’t even acknowledge that. Instead of ordering a glass each, I get a pitcher we can share. We’ll need it.

Okay, bonding. I can do this. I take my seat and pour him a glass and then one for me.

“What are you studying?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Haven’t chosen a major yet.”

All right, then. I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. This isn’t awkward as fuck. Not at all. We sit and drink our beer, pretty much finishing them off without saying another word.

“Are we bonding yet?” Asher asks, and I snort.

“I don’t know what we’re supposed to talk about. Are you seeing anyone?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “Why, you interested?” Something glimmers behind Asher’s green eyes, and I can’t tell if he’s fucking with me or being serious. “The guys told me about what happened over summer.”

“That’s old news. And sorry, but I’m taken … ish.”

“Ish?”

“Yeah. Ish. We’re dating, and I’m pretty sure it’s exclusive, but I’m not exactly ready to introduce him as my boyfriend or anything.” And I realize I just came out to him. Oops?

How Seth thinks I’ll be able to keep it a secret is beyond me. My mouth doesn’t always cooperate with things that shall not be talked about.

“Oh, so it is a guy?” There’s no judgment in Asher’s tone. At least, I don’t think there is.

“Yeah, but no one kinda knows? So if you could keep your mouth shut—”

“I’m not about to out anyone. Not my style.”

“Good. Because technically, neither of us are out. His parents know, and Beck knows. Well, and you now.”

“Look at that, we are bonding.”

I lean back in my seat. “Okay, I gave you something. Now it’s your turn.”

“What, my dead parents aren’t enough?”

“Are you going to play the dead parent card every time?”

“While it works.” He smirks.

It’s a little unnerving how blasé he seems to be about it all, but everyone grieves differently, I guess.

“You said it was your stepmom. What about your mom?”

“Also dead. But that happened before I could even remember her. West talks about her a lot though. Or, he used to. Now it’s all about Dad.”

Jesus, I need more beer. I pour a second cup for me, and Asher throws the rest of his back and holds out his glass.

“So, how old are your siblings?”

“They’re my half siblings. They’re fifteen, thirteen, eleven, and twin nine-year-olds.”

Holy shit, that sounds hectic. Seven kids including Asher and Coach Dalton?

“Hockey!” I blurt.

Asher scrunches his brow at me. “Hockey?”

“Yeah. We should, uh, talk about hockey?”

“West is killing me with this line bullshit, but we’ll get there. You and Jacobs just need to move faster.”

I narrow my eyes at him, and he laughs.

I shift in my seat. With any of the other guys on the team, I wouldn’t hesitate to give my advice, but Asher’s a closed book, and I don’t know how well he’ll take it. “I think I know what our problem is.”

Asher cocks his eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“You’re hard to read. And don’t get me wrong, that’s great for us because whoever we’re playing won’t be able to follow your train of thought. But we’re your teammates. We kind of need to know what you’re thinking.”

“That’s fair.”

I let out a relieved breath. “I hate to admit it, but I think your brother is right. That kind of mind reading is only going to come if we spend time together.”

“So, you’re saying you want to do this again?” He smiles, and I return it. It’s only a small step, but at least we might be getting somewhere.

A voice comes from beside me. “Do what again exactly?”

I freeze at the tone and turn to find a very pissed-off Seth.

I pretend he’s not going bright red. “Hey, what are you doing—”

“If you wanted time away from me, you could’ve said. You didn’t need to lie.”

Wait, what?

Before I can get my bearings of what the actual fuck is happening, Seth walks away.

“Let me guess,” Asher says. “That’s the exclusive non-boyfriend guy.” He stares after him. “Is he related to Foster Grant?”

“Shit,” I hiss.

“Why are you still sitting here? Go after him, man.”

Right. Feet move now. Let’s go.

I rush out of the booth and run outside without even thinking about putting on my jacket. Snow’s falling, but I don’t care.

Seth’s moving faster than I thought was possible for him, but I chase him anyway. I slip on some black ice and try to save myself, but there’s no way I have that much grace.