Power Plays & Straight A's (CU Hockey 1)

When the small crowd of students and visitors cheer, my gaze goes straight to Zach.

Huh. No smile. No cheer … passive Zach as always.

“That’s what you have to keep up with if you’re going to stay on this team!” Coach says. When I skate past him to get into the team box, he slaps my back. “Good hustle.”

I take my helmet off and shake out my sweaty hair. “Thanks, Coach.”

Then he yells next to my ear. “Next line. You’re up!”

And now I’m deaf.

I know I should be watching the scrimmage. I should be checking out my new teammates and trying to place which players they’ll gel with. With all the seniors who graduated last year, we have a lot of spots to fill, and we need the right lines to be able to go far this season.

I want to make it to the Frozen Four my senior year. I don’t ask much. The team has made it one other time since I’ve been at this school. It was during my freshman year, so I only got about two minutes of ice time and we were knocked out in the first round. I want to go all the way this season.

Yet, while the action in front of me goes on, I can’t keep my eyes off Zach, sitting in the stands with a cute concentration line across his forehead as he tries to follow what’s happening on the ice.

The crowd is dwindling now. People don’t realize how slow and boring practices are compared to real games, but there are a few people hanging back. Mainly puck bunnies or middle-aged people I really hope are the parents of some of the freshmen on the team.

My parents were in the stands whenever they could be my freshman year, including away games. Now they come to my home games or games close by, but that’s it.

When Coach Hogan finally wraps up the practice and our audience starts filing out, I have no hope Zach will still be waiting by the time I’m showered and dressed.

That doesn’t stop me from rushing through it.

I’m out the door before any of my teammates, and as I leave the arena I pull out my phone to text him. I got his number from the class info sheet.

I’m typing away when he steps out in front of me.

I startle. “Fuck. Uh, hi.”

He averts his gaze. “Hey. Umm … So …”

“So? Did any of that help?” I gesture behind me.

“Are you kidding? If anything, I’m more confused. I have no idea what”—he waves his hand in the direction of the arena—“that was.”

“That was hockey.”

“Duh, but—”

“You hungry?”

Zach’s green eyes meet mine. His eyes are almost cat-like now that I’m actually letting myself notice. They’re kinda pretty and hypnotic. “What?” he asks.

Yeah, what? What was I saying?

My stomach rumbles. Right. Food. “I didn’t have dinner, and I’m starving. Want to share a pizza?”

His lips flatten. “Pizza?”

“My dorm or yours?”

“Pizza?” He seems confused.

“You know, dough, sauce, pepperoni, cheese. Pizza. For a genius, I’m starting to wonder how smart you really are.”

“You’re inviting me to have dinner? In your dorm?”

Ah. I break into a smile and step closer. “Scared to be alone with me?”

He blinks and backs up a few steps. “What? No! Uh, no. It’s just … we’re not friends, so—”

I roll my eyes. “I’ve known you for three years now. We’re friends. Or at least friends by association. And you need help. I need food. Two birds and whatnot. Albany Hall is closer, but if you’re not comfortable with me in your space, we can go to—”

“Mine’s good. That’s … umm good.”

“Awesome. I’ll order the pizza on the walk over there. What do you like?” We walk in the direction of his place.

“Pepperoni’s fine.” He keeps his head down.

“I didn’t ask what was fine. I asked what you like.”

“Whatever you want.”

I pause. “Do you know you do that all the time at home?”

“Do what?”

“Whenever anyone asks what you want, you go along with whatever Seth says.”

Zach shrugs. “We have the same taste.”

“Okay. Seth likes mushrooms, so do you want mushrooms?”

There’s a pause.

“Peppers,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Peppers. Please. No mushrooms.”

“Was that so hard?”

Zach doesn’t answer me, and I have to wonder if that really was hard for him.

I order the pizza so by the time we get back to his dorm we won’t have to wait long for it.

He opens the door to his room, and I drop my gear bag on the floor. I sit on his bed, but he stands awkwardly, kinda shuffling his feet before he decides to take a seat at his desk.

It might be the first time I’ve been in someone else’s dorm room where they seem scared of their own bed. Or maybe he’s scared of me being on it.

It’s hard to figure this guy out.

I’ve known Zach for three years, but I really don’t know anything about him.