Page 4 of Call the Shots (For The Arena #1)

BEAR

OH. STICKY. LOVELY.

The smoothie mess was a bitch to clean from the carpet.

When I finished, I bought another one and lingered outside Xavier’s office.

It was really nice, with a huge wooden desk inside and a waiting area decorated with fake plants and bookcases lined with expensive hardcovers.

People poured inside and his staff asked endless questions about June’s behavior.

Xavier was way nicer than I would’ve been.

“This is why the housing department offers mental health days,” he urged. “If you need time off? Take it. I’d rather have you give your brain a rest than crash a golf cart and fail your classes.” He sighed. “I only wish we could’ve offered more for June.”

One of the girls patted his arm. “You’re so kind.”

“That’s what we do. Choose kindness. Every day.”

I held up the smoothie when the last of them left. “Man…what the fuck?”

He motioned for me to close the door, and when it shut, he put his head in his hands, groaning. “June’s fucking crazy. She totaled my car in January.”

“ What? ” My mouth hung open. “That’s what happened to the Clemenza? What’d the police say?”

Xavier was quiet for a moment. Seconds passed before he reached for a glass award behind his desk, crafted to look like a piece of pottery. He rubbed it with a cloth. “They can’t prove it was her, there weren’t cameras, but tell me it wasn’t June.”

“No, I believe you, man. That’s fucked.”

Xavier nodded with a yep, what are you going to do? shrug. This was the easiest conversation we had in a long time.

It’d always been awkward between us, and that was on me.

Our parents got together when we were in middle school, but I had back-to-back hockey camps and tournaments most of the year.

Always on the road, barely at home. It was a major reason why I transferred to Marrs.

Now that I was here, I wanted to be a real brother to him.

His eyes flicked to mine. “Do you need something?”

“Are you free for lunch?”

“Uh…one of my assistants picks it up for me.”

“It’s no problem. I can grab something if you want to eat here.”

He exhaled through his nose. “Bear, I work with the housing department, the homecoming committee, the sustainability board, the feminism forward commission—I’m not an athlete. I don’t get to pick and choose while everybody waits on me. I can’t just ‘get lunch.’”

“Yeah, I get it.” I cleared my throat. “When our coach comes back, my schedule will get way busier. He’s in the Bahamas. Isn’t that nuts?”

Xavier continued polishing his award.

“We have this freshman on the team,” I added. “He looks like he just crawled out of the womb.”

“Hm.”

“All my teammates hate each other.”

“Cool.”

I shoved my hands in my pockets. “So—uh—what do you want for lunch?”

“Bear. I’m busy.”

“We don’t have to do it today. I’m free this week.”

“How about I tell you when I’m available?”

“Yeah, that sounds?—”

“Close the door on your way out.”

“No worries.” I opened it and a girl with stacks of paperwork stepped inside. I slipped out my phone. “Do you have Vanysh or something? Because we could?—”

The girl closed the door.

I stared at the designs engraved into the wood, unsure of what to do. If Xavier had one of those other apps to text, he would’ve said something. And I had his number anyway, I could message him after tonight’s hockey meeting.

With a look over my shoulder, I saw a dozen people gawking before they snapped to their work. A flush crept up my neck and I shoved my hands in my pockets, leaving the office.

Whatever, Xavier was busy.

It was fine. No worries.

I loitered around campus until the hockey meeting.

The Colo somehow looked even worse than when I last saw it.

Someone must’ve busted another window on the outside, there was broken glass everywhere, and the far right doors were lopsided with caution tape haphazardly wrapped around them.

The team was supposed to make it look better but that couldn’t be my team. There were only a dozen guys outside.

“Hey,” I called, my steps slowing when I saw who the hockey players were surrounding. I couldn’t believe it. “You’re stalking me now?”

Mid-handshake with Montoya, June sighed. “Ugh. You .”

“I want security called!”

She rolled her eyes and shook another hockey player’s hand.

“You can’t mess with my family and?—”

“Your shitty brother is why I’m here, ” she snapped.

“Don’t talk about Xavier?—”

Denali grabbed my shoulder. “Bear.”

“Call somebody, I don’t want her here?—”

“Bear, this is June Basil, she’s working with the hockey team.”

I jerked back. “ What? ”

Heels clicked against the pavement, a pretty redhead held up her clipboard, her lips curved into what was supposed to be a smile but looked like she smelled something rancid instead. “Afternoon, I’m Cleo Bennight, PR director for the Romans—um—well, now the Gladiators.”

A dozen hockey players shifted in awkward silence.

Cleo frowned. “This is…it?”

“No,” Denali said. “We have twenty-six players but most of the phone numbers are dead ends. Coach Vernon didn’t leave a contact sheet.”

She grimaced. “Mm. My goal is to put the Gladiators on the map. This is my assistant, June Basil.”

June folded her arms over her chest, and I had a feeling she was about as ecstatic as her boss was.

“I want to see what we have to work with,” Cleo added and turned to the arena. Montoya raced ahead to open the door for her, but her heels faltered. “Oh. Sticky. Lovely.”

Before Denali could follow, I pulled him aside. “June can’t stay.”

“She already signed on.”

“You don’t understand, she has this weird fixation on my brother?—”

“Bear, you don’t like June? ” Elijah laughed.

I glared. “I didn’t ask for your input.”

“That’s like having beef with a girl scout.” His smirk widened. “What, are you afraid the homecoming queen’s going to hit you with a shoe?”

“I like June,” Montoya said, back at our side. “She’s nice.”

“That’s because you’re five years old and don’t know better,” I retorted.

“I’m seventeen.”

“Same thing,” Elijah, Denali, and I said at the same time.

“She’s manipulative,” I told them. “Just because she’s pretty doesn’t mean you should trust her.

” I glanced over the shuffling crowd of hockey players to see June, head bent with Cleo.

“This is an important life lesson, Montoya. My brother broke it off with her in January and now she has this grudge against him?—”

“January? Dude, your info’s wrong,” Elijah interjected. “She broke up with a football player in January. They dated for years.”

I didn’t believe him until Elijah showed the guy’s socials, a tatted-up football player named King.

I didn’t know football that well but even I’d heard of him, a great defensive player.

June was in all his pictures, always pressed close to him.

That didn’t make any sense. June mentioned her and Xavier were dating, and Xavier said June totaled his car… how does King fit in the picture?

“So you think she’s pretty?” Elijah taunted. “I get what’s happening. Bear’s got a boner for June and the only way he can?—”

I waited until he walked ahead before I kicked the back of his knee. With a high-pitched grunt, Elijah slammed to the ground, and I stepped over him, continuing with the guys.

“Dammit, Bear!”

“No one gives a shit, Elijah,” I threw over my shoulder and stopped when Denali forced me to.

“Bear.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Denali?”

“We’re a team.” He eyed me, his voice cool. “That includes our teammates. That includes June. And that includes Elijah . Your new defense partner for the season, first line.”

My jaw clenched. “There’s no way I’m defense partners with him?—”

“He’s the only one at your skill level.”

“Did you join hockey yesterday?” I demanded, not caring that the rest of the team could hear me. “You think I’d trust him to watch my back? Fuck no. Pair me up with anybody else, I’m not skating with Elijah.”

“Nobody’s at your skill level,” he repeated. “Tell me who else can match you.”

I didn’t have an answer. There were plenty of great forwards on our start-up but in terms of defense, there was only one name who could come close to mine. The only reason Elijah hadn’t been drafted to the pros was because he was a gigantic jackass.

“Why don’t you apologize for tripping him?” Denali said in my silence.

“Say sorry to Ruthless? ”

“Yes.”

I rolled my shoulders, measuring up to my pasty-faced captain. Denali didn’t waver under my glare. I was somewhat aware of how stupid this was because ultimately, he was right and I wanted to go back to my dorm, away from these dipshits.

“I’m sorry, Elijah,” I spat out without even looking at him.

“Don’t worry about it, Moosefucker.” He patted me on the shoulder, moving past.

I thumbed towards Elijah. “Did you hear that?”

Denali shrugged. “Well, you are Canadian.”