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I push him forward before she can answer. “Don’t mind him. Hit in the head too many times.”
Adam laughs, drawing the attention of those nearby. “All those years playing goalie in peewee.”
“You were supposed to block the puck, not eat it.”
“I was defending the net by any means necessary, even taking shots to the helmet. Which, by the way, hurt like a bitch, and that’s why I moved to winger.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“They used to call me ‘The Adam Bomb.’ Get it?”
I wipe a hand down my face. When I peer over at him again, he’s peering forward with a slight smile. Discreetly, I take my phone out of my pocket and snap a pic before sending it to the teammate group chat with the caption:The Adam Bomb.
The first ping comes before I can even get my phone back in my pocket. Then another and another. Adam pulls out his cell while I try to keep a straight face.
“Breach of trust,” he chuckles out, then turns his phone to me, showing off all the bomb GIFs coming through. Sweeney even texts a pic with the infamous mushroom cloud with an arrow labeled The Adam Bomb that points to a tiny cartoon explosive in the corner.
I turn Adam’s phone back toward him so he can see it. He clutches his chest, laughing, and quickly types a reply into the chat.
The hockey team might play the least popular sport on campus, but at least we’ve got each other.
“So…”
I peer over at Adam, who’s looking at me expectantly. “So?”
He shakes his head. “The girl. You’re not going to tell me who she is?”
I shrug, mind working on how I can approach her again.
“Come on. Am I supposed to believe you stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, watched a random girl appear out of those glass doors, and took off after her if you have no interest?”
“Getting with girls isn’t the only reason you run after them.”
“In my experience, that’s completely false.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. His words serve to remind me that I’m in a vastly different space than my teammates right now. Hell, most college guys. “Nor and I are more like friends.”
Adam pushes the exit doors open. The rush of cool winter air zaps at my lungs. Years of hanging out in chilly ice arenas has made me immune to the cold, though.
“I know all your friends,” Adam scoffs. “They’re big, tall, and skate around on the ice. Some of them are assholes.”
“Fine,” I admit. “She’s Trish’s friend.”
Adam smacks me in the chest, a cloudy look taking his face hostage.
“Who just so happens to have a room at Knightley,” I explain.
“The roommate debacleagain?”
“Dude, I can’t stand it. Ever since Button transferred out and I had to move into the dorms, these underclassmen they pair me with are complete dicks. Girls knocking on doors at all hours of the night. No courtesy or consideration whatsoever. Plus, they’re disgusting fucking pigs.”
“Okay, but do you really want to live withTrish’sfriend? What’s that about?”
“I wanted the option, but she blew me off.” I peer over my shoulder in case she’s come back to apologize, but all I see are the closed doors of the classroom building. “Trish probably made up some shit likeIcheated onher. Or worse.” That, more than anything, pisses me off.
“Zaiah…” Adam starts. He’s not the type to hesitate, and as expected, he forges on. “This is a bad idea. Do I have to remind you of the hell you went through last year because ofher?”
No, he doesn’t. I try not to let my mind go there.