Out on the Ice (Out in College 5)

Schultz flashed a tight smile. “I’m playing. For now. The contract had too many holes in it. My agent thinks I can lock in something more lucrative.”

I nodded. “Welcome back.”

Okay, wow. Not a bad performance. I was more mature than I thought.

“Thanks.”

I pulled my shoulder pads from my bag and cast an expectant glance his way. “Anything else?”

“Yeah.” He shifted a little closer and fixed me with a look I couldn’t quite read. It was kind of menacing, which was an interesting tactic to take with someone like me. I wasn’t easily intimidated. “I want my spot back. It’ll be temporary. But I need it.”

I ran my fingers over the ridge of hard plastic and eyed him warily. “Need is a strong word.”

“For recruitment purposes only.”

“I see. So, not because you give a shit about the team,” I said sarcastically.

“Of course, I do. I’m here, aren’t I?”

“Yeah, and that’s cool, but I’m not stepping down. Coach mentioned something about co-capt—”

“No, that wouldn’t work.” He lowered his voice as he moved into my space. “I need my spot back.”

We engaged in an odd staring contest for a few seconds. I had to give him credit, the guy had brass balls. But I wasn’t budging.

“Sorry, Schultz. I’m not stepping down. Thanks for asking.” I fastened the Velcro on my pads and shot a lifeless smile at him. “If you’re staying, get dressed. You’re supposed to be out there warming up. We’ve got work to do.”

“I thought we could discuss this like adults, but if I have to go to Coach, I will,” he said, frowning so hard, his face contorted into a scary-looking mask.

“Go right ahead. And while you’re at it, floss your teeth. You’ve got a piece of spinach stuck right there.” I gestured at his mouth, unsurprised when he smacked my hand away.

“Fuck you, Fischer. Don’t fuckin’ mess with me,” he snarled. “I promise you’ll be sorry.”

The old me would have checked him against the edge of the metal locker and clocked him in the jaw. But this amazingly new mature me just smiled. Call me crazy, but I think that was worse. He looked like he wanted to hurt me.

“Suddenly, all I want to do is mess with you. But you know what? I’m willing to forget you’re an asshole…for now. The game is all that matters, Schultz. If you’re here to play, you better play hard.”

He gritted his teeth and slammed an open locker door on his way back to his corner. The obnoxious clang echoed in the space, startling the few stragglers who were still getting ready. Whatever tentative conversations had started while we were talking went quiet all over again.

And as I finished changing from street clothes into my practice uniform, I realized he didn’t have to do much to fuck up the team’s chemistry. Showing up with a crappy attitude and talking shit about me would be divisive enough to cause serious problems. Schultz could singlehandedly suck the fun out of the game for everyone.

Nah. I wouldn’t let that happen. If he was a jerk on the ice, I’d deal with it. The hardest part would be to not lose my cool and end up looking like the bigger ass.

A couple of days later, it was clear that Schultz’s reappearance was going to affect the team’s chemistry. It wasn’t anything obvious—there were no major fights and no disruptions in the locker room, but something was off. I shared my thoughts with Elliot while I brushed my teeth and did my best not to check myself out too thoroughly. Elliot noticed weird things. He’d get suspicious if I used cologne.

I rinsed my hands, turned off the faucet, and reached for a towel. “I don’t know if he really has an agent at this point, but I’d love for him to work a freaking miracle and get Schultz outta my hair.”

Elliot inclined his head. “I wouldn’t worry about him. He just needs to ease back into things. So, where are you going tonight? Got a hot date?”

“Uh, no. I’m going to Mom and Harry’s for dinner.”

“Oh. Then why are you dressed up?”

“I’m wearing Levi’s and a T-shirt,” I said flippantly as I checked my reflection. My hair needed a trim, but otherwise…not bad. My black tee hugged my biceps, and this was my best pair of jeans. My mom and Harry wouldn’t care, but Sky always looked pretty put together…in a good way. I figured I might as well try too.

“Yeah, and they’re clean,” he snarked.

“Ha. Ha.” I flipped the switch in the bathroom and grabbed my cell from my pocket and my keys from the island.

Elliot followed me into the kitchen. “Say hi to Mom and Harry. I’ll see you tonight.”

I glanced at my phone when it buzzed in my hand, then typed a quick message to Sky to let him know I was on my way downstairs before refocusing on Elliot.