Page 10 of In the Net (Sin Bin Stories #5)
SEBASTIAN
I ’m going to Paris. But not alone.
It only took the English department a week after the submission deadline to announce the winner of the competition.
Turns out, there was no winner. Instead, there were two winners .
I’m one of them.
Harper is the other.
The department intended to send only one Brumehill student to Paris to present at the conference, but after they read all the submissions, the judging committee was deadlocked over which of our two essays should be the winner, mine and Harper’s apparently standing out above our competition.
Then, they got news that one of the presenters at the Paris conference had to pull out, leaving a presentation space open.
So, the English department contacted the conference organizers and got the green light to kill two birds with one stone. Instead of deciding between my essay and Harper’s, they declared us co-winners.
They’re sending us both over to present our papers.
Even when I get the opportunity to fly across the Atlantic freaking Ocean and visit the city I’ve always dreamed of, I can’t escape the company of Harper Brees.
Knowing that I have to share not only a hotel, but also a victory that I wanted for myself, with Harper … well, it sucks, but not enough to dull the thrill of the trip. It’ll be easier to avoid her in a sprawling metropolis than it is here in a tiny college town, at least.
I’m counting down the days between now and the trip like I’m a kid buzzing with excitement the week before Christmas.
I’ll be back from Paris just a few days before our first hockey game of the season. Honestly, I’m more excited about seeing Paris than I am about being back on the ice for the last season of my college career.
Maybe that should concern me.
If nothing else, that’s a sure sign that I was right to talk to Coach and convince him to name Jamie team captain this year. He’s razor-focused right now in a way I’m not.
Despite all that, I’m able to lock in for today’s practice session. Coach already isn’t happy that I’m going to be gone for an entire week right before the start of the season. The last thing I want to do is earn any more of his ire by slacking off or being distracted like I was the other day.
Right now, I’m running a drill where two of our second line defensemen are trying to block me and keep me from getting off a shot on goal.
One of them, Maurice, a freshman who’s new to the team, is really good.
I wouldn’t be surprised to see him make first line next year.
The other, a junior named Darren, is weaker, though.
I position myself further to his side, deke past him, and send the puck sailing off the blade of my stick into the empty net.
I catch Coach’s eye, and he gives me a begrudging nod before blowing his whistle to signal the end of practice.
When I’m stepping off the ice, I pass Coach and he says, “Don’t let the week in France make you soft before the season, Lawrence.”
I bite back a grin, because even though Coach is giving me a hard time, I can tell from his voice that he’s proud of me for winning the competition and getting to go on this trip. Coach always stresses the importance of our studies to us. “No, sir,” I answer.
“If you don’t have access to a gym, do push-ups and squats in your hotel room. Go on runs. And don’t fill up on croissants.”
Felix slaps me on the back as he passes on his way to the locker room. “Don’t fill up on the Parisian girls, either.”
I roll my eyes at Felix, and Coach pats me on the behind with his clipboard before heading to his office.
Honestly, though, now that it’s had a couple seconds to sit in my mind, Felix’s comment stimulates my excitement.
I’ve been thinking so much about just being in Paris and walking around, seeing the sights, and visiting the museums, that the idea of a nice week-long fling with a French girl hasn’t really occurred to me.
But now that it has, it sure doesn’t sound too bad. Like something out of a movie.
But then, right on the heels of that thought, I imagine Harper doing the same, having her own fling with a French guy.
I imagine being in the hall of our hotel and seeing them walk in or out of her room together.
I don’t know why, but the thought immediately brings a revolting taste to my mouth and makes my nose scrunch in a scowl.
I guess it’s just a reaction of sympathy for the poor imaginary French guy, for having to suffer the fate of Harper’s company for an entire week. Yeah, must be it. That’s a thought that could call a scowl to my face in a millisecond.
When I get to the locker room, I try to push all thoughts of Harper out of my head, but the rest of the guys don’t make that easy. It seems they’ve all decided it would just be hilarious to give me shit about us having to go to Paris together.
“Harper and Sebastian in the city of love,” Carter says as he steps into the shower stall next to mine and turns the water on. “It’s almost enough to make my heart skip a beat.”
I decide not to dignify his comment with a response, but that doesn’t deter the others.
“Just imagine,” Felix picks up the topic, “Sebastian thinks he’s all alone at the very top of the Eiffel Tower, just as it’s striking midnight. He turns around—and there’s Harper, standing there.” He has his hands held up in front of his face like he’s a director planning out the scene.
“I do not think the Eiffel Tower would be empty at midnight,” Veikko chimes in with his literal deadpan. “Late at night it is very busy there.”
“Or imagine this ,” Jamie contributes, “somehow the people from the English department booking their rooms screwed up, and they have to share one.”
“With only one bed?” Kiran asks, his voice far too excited.
“Of course,” Jamie answers.
“Is this what gets you guys off?” I ask.
Kiran ignores me, still directing his far too excited questions to Jamie. “The bed would be really narrow, too, right? So they’d have to spoon.”
“Holy fuck, you guys are obnoxious,” I grumble, turning around to let the jet of hot water stream against my chest.
Not surprisingly, calling out my teammates and turning away from them does nothing to shut them up.
“Couldn’t one of them sleep on the floor?” Veikko asks, ever the realist.
“They’d start off trying to sleep back-to-back, of course,” Felix says, ignoring the sensible Finn, “but they’d wake up in the middle of the night face-to-face, with their arms wrapped around each other and their legs tangled.”
Images of the scenario Felix is describing very unwantedly flash into my brain. Harper’s leg hooked around my waist as she sleeps, her loose shorts pushed so far up that if my hand strayed, I’d feel the warm skin over the curve of her bare hip …
My cock twitches and starts to thicken. Along with the swelling in my groin, a pang of concern detonates behind my chest, because no thought about Harper should cause this kind of physical reaction in me.
Must just be the elevated testosterone from the workout on the ice.
I twist the shower knob to make the water colder.
Even though I’ve managed to avoid a full-on stiffy in the locker room showers, I still can’t get the guys to shut up. They’re still coming up with ridiculous scenarios, on fucking cloud nine teasing me just because Harper and I are going to the same city for a week.
They need to get lives.
“None of this is ever going to happen, but you weirdos can keep fantasizing,” I grouse.
“Maybe Seb’s right,” Carter says. “Why would Harper bother with him when she has a buffet of French dudes to choose from? Probably some Italian tourists up there, too.”
“For sure,” Felix answers, his voice cheeky. “Harper’s bed’s gonna have no room for Sebastian’s lame American ass. It’s gonna be filled with Henri and Louis and Charles,” he pronounces the names in a terrible French accent, “with a couple Antonios and Giovannis thrown in.”
I must have turned the water too cold, because right after listening to Felix’s bullshitting, I feel a frosty, slimy chill crawl up my back. I twist the knob back in the other direction, heating up the water again.
I finally manage to tune out the guys as I soap up and wash my hair. By the time we’re drying off and getting changed, they’ve thankfully moved on to a new topic of conversation.
Harper and me taking a trip to Paris together might amuse my teammates to no end, but really, I bet we’ll hardly see each other there.