Face Offs & Cheap Shots (CU Hockey 2)

I grab my clothes off the floor and look at him over my shoulder. “One day, Topher.”

He’s on his side, propping his head up with his hand. “What are you doing with our morning off?”

For a brief second, I think he’s going to ask me to stay.

He doesn’t. “I’m going to hit up the team gym,” Jacobs says. “If you wanted to train together.”

I smile. “It’s already starting. You want to train with me?”

“Kicking your ass lights a fire under mine. Your competitive nature is good for me.”

Images of last night’s competition fills my head. “I’d say it’s good for both of us.”

He averts his gaze. “I’m going to shower and grab some breakfast. Meet you at the gym in an hour?”

“Sure. Later.” I don’t bother putting on my shoes and socks.

Sneaking out of his room is easy at this time of morning, but getting to my room isn’t as smooth.

Cohen’s coming the other way. He can’t hide his amusement as he witnesses my walk of shame. “Where’d you go after McIntyre’s last night?”

“Strip club,” I lie.

“Who’d you meet at a—holy shit, did you fuck a stripper?”

I try not to laugh at that mental image. Jacobs swinging around a pole in a thong. Hmm, actually …

“Totally fucked a stripper,” I say dryly.

“See you later, Captain.”

I flinch. That title is gonna take more getting used to than I thought it would.

I enter my room, dump my stuff, and get straight in the shower to wash the last of Jacobs off me.

Already, I can’t wait to get to the gym. Turns out I like hanging out with him when he isn’t constantly angry with me.

I dress into running shorts and a tank top, shove my feet into sneakers, and head for the coffee shop off campus to get something to eat.

And what’ll you know, I get in line right behind Jacobs.

He orders a coffee and two bacon-and-egg sandwiches, but before he can hand over his money, I step forward.

“I’ll have the same, and just put it all together.” I slide over my credit card. “Thanks.”

Jacobs turns to me. “I can pay for my own food.”

“I know you can, but I’m offering.”

“Name for the order?” the cashier asks.

I grin. “Topher.”

Jacobs rolls his eyes and stalks off to a table in the back.

I follow. “Embarrassed to be seen with me?”

“Yup.”

I laugh. “So that hasn’t changed yet, then.”

“Two nights of …” He glances around the practically empty café.

I lean in and whisper, “Sex. Is that a bad word in your household or something?”

“No. I can say it. But I didn’t know if you can call what we’re doing sex.”

I shrug. “Shared orgasms. Totally counts.”

“Well, two nights of sex isn’t going to make my opinion of three years change.”

“So, we should do it again tonight? I’m hearing that as we might need to make it a hat trick.”

Jacobs tries to hide a smile but fails, and when our order is called, he’s quick to jump up to get it. I assume he moves fast so he either doesn’t insult me or doesn’t admit that he wants another night too.

He places my food and drink in front of me, and I can’t help smiling at him.

He’s oblivious as he sits and takes a sip of his coffee.

“You know, this is practically a date.”

Jacobs sprays coffee all over the table, and I lean back in my seat victorious.

Today’s camp session is one of those days where everything clicks, the kids are listening, and the plays are smooth and effective.

We’re playing alongside them today, and I’d be proud to have any one of these guys on my line.

Gliding over the ice, pummeling the competition, and being on a team has always given me that warm feeling in my gut. Like being at home. Only, not my actual home because that was always cold and lonely.

The only reprieve I got growing up was commiserating with my younger sister. We bonded over shitty expectations our parents had of both of us. Where I was supposed to be smart and the heir to the Beckett Enterprises fortune, she was supposed to look pretty and stay quiet.

We both hate our respective roles, and they don’t fit us.

Thinking of my sister, it reminds me to call her to check in.

But after we finish practice and plan to meet at McIntyre’s straight after showering and getting dressed, I send her a text instead.

She doesn’t reply, which makes sense when I realize it’s the middle of the night in Greece.

But when we’re a few drinks in, and I’m getting close to being ready to get out of here with Jacobs, hearing her shrill voice doesn’t make any sense.

Or, makes perfect sense if I think about it. I didn’t exactly give her warning that I wasn’t going to be with her this summer, and I haven’t heard from her since before the break started.