Page 46 of Ice Me Out

“Of you?” the Zeta president snorts. “Not even if Hell iced over.”

Tucker must have a death wish, because he doesn’t relent. “I call it like I see it. You’re quite obvious, really. Come on, Bex. Let me introduce you to my teammates. I promise you aren’t going to get any more clues from me. Let’s go talk to Corey and Dave over there.”

I follow Tucker, curious to get to meet the guys who stood in that lineup. That kiss is going to be hard to forget, and I really want to know who it was.

A part of me is disappointed that it wasn’t Tucker. He’s handsome, and he seems like a lot of fun.

The only thing I know for sure is that there are three Cove Knights I hope weren’t my mystery kiss.

The three guys who refused to help me and who are now staring at me and Tucker’s every move with stony expressions on their ridiculously handsome faces.

Chapter11

The Bunny Corner

Jamie

Some asshole must have decided to do a fire drill on campus on the Monday morning of a long weekend.

The only few rare Mondays when there’s no class and, even better, no practice.

I hide my head under my pillow in the hopes of making that obnoxious sound go away, but I have no such luck. It keeps coming in waves.

Hold on a second. I rub the sleep out of my eyes when I realize that the offending noise isn’t a fire alarm, but it’s my phone.

That’s the text tune I assigned to Coach Harrison.

Because, let’s face it, if Coach was ever to text one of us directly, it surely means that the apocalypse is coming.

That thought wakes me up completely. And I open the text message.

Coach Harrison:

My office 8 am. Tardiness won’t be tolerated.

What the fuck? That doesn’t sound good. Why am I being summoned to Coach’s office? I haven’t been slacking during practice. I’ve played well and scored two goals in the only pre-season game we’ve had so far. I haven’t been late once on the ice, and I get along with my teammates like a house on fire. There’s no reason for a summon to Coach’s office at 8 am, on a day when everyone is still sleeping off last night’s parties. That fact worries me even more. Eight o’clock in the morning is early on any day, but on a day like today? When all the offices on campus, all the classrooms and even the library are closed? It’s like being summoned at the crack of dawn on a regular day.

And why would anyone be summoned so early anywhere? I wonder, as I get out of bed and shove my legs in last night’s jeans. Nothing good ever happens at the crack of dawn. The only thing I can think about is executions and other grim stuff like that.

By the time I park my car in the ice rink’s deserted parking lot, I almost convinced myself that it must be a mistake. Or maybe even a prank. Could Tucker have gotten my phone and saved his number under Coach Harrison’s name?

But then again, the only way Tucker would be up at this time after partying until the sun came up would be if he still hadn’t gone to bed.

The plot thickens when another car pulls into the parking lot and Luke comes out of it.

I leave the safety of my car and walk up to greet my team captain. “What are you doing here?”

He has shadows under his eyes, which means he ran here the second he woke up, just like I did. There’s no way Luke would be seen anywhere looking less than perfect; and I know an anti eye circles miracle cream and concealer are a non-negotiable part of his early morning routine.

“I got a text from Coach,” Luke answers. “Why are you here?”

“Same.” I bite out, noticing that Luke has his workout bag in his hand. “Did he say it was a surprise practice or anything like that?”

Luke shrugs. “No. But the last time we got called in here this early, Coach bag skated us, remember? I’d rather be prepared.”

Maybe he has a point. “Do you think that’s why he called us here? But wouldn’t he have said to be prepared to get on the ice?”

He shrugs a second time. “You know Coach.”