Page 58 of The Roommate Game
I frowned. “I don’t know. I was at the rink yesterday and I sucked…as usual.”
“Let’s go now and see what happens.”
“Now? No…I can’t. I have an assignment to finish and?—”
“Hey, Rafe. Breathe.” He trailed soothing fingertips along my upper arm. “You got this, and you know it. I’ll be right there and if you fall…unlike you, ya heartless fucker, I won’t laugh.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not the same thing.”
“I know. I really do,” Gus assured me kindly. “I’ve been there, you know. My freshman year of college hockey was a bust. It started out okay, but one day I woke up and everything felt off. I can’t describe it any other way. I’d pass the puck and it would miss by this much.” He held his fingers an inch apart. “Every fucking time. The coach got irritated with me. He probably thought I was too busy having fun. Which wasn’t wrong, but…that wasn’t the problem.”
“What was it?”
Gus’s brow creased thoughtfully. “Instead of just hitting the puck, I’d analyze the shot. And if you’re stuck on one shot, you can’t read the ice. You don’t know where to skate next, who’s the biggest threat, and who can get open quickly.”
“How’d you fix it?”
“Coach Beekman saw me hitting pucks after practice one afternoon and gave me a few tips. He wasn’t my coach yet. He was the big boss, and I thought for sure he was gonna tell me to quit fuckin’ around on his ice, but…he was cool, patient, and heseemed like he gave a shit. That made all the difference in the world. So I guess this is me letting you know that I give a shit. Don’t give up, Rafe. You’ve got some medals to win before you hang up your skates.”
I blinked away tears and nodded furiously. “Thanks.”
“I’m being honest. You wouldn’t have bothered with the hassle of switching schools and coaches if you didn’t believe you had more in the tank.”
“True.”
Gus stood and held out a hand. “Good. I have an hour and a half before my interview, so let’s mosey over to the rink and see what you got.”
“Interview?” I rose, my fingers still entwined with Gus’s.
“It’s my second one at the high school.”
“Really? That’s great! Congratulations.” I squeezed his hand.
“I haven’t gotten the job yet, so don’t get too excited.”
“Are you kidding? You’re totally getting that job. They’d be foolish not to hire you.”
Gus snickered. “I should bring you with me. You can tell them that.”
“I’d be happy to. If they’re smart, they’ll—” I glanced at Gus as he stopped on the middle of the sidewalk. “What’s up?”
“You’re holding my hand.”
I plucked my hand away and lightly punched his biceps. “No,youwere holding my hand.”
“Yeah, right,” he snarked. “I don’t mind. I just didn’t know you had a hand fetish.”
“Fetish? If I was going to have a fetish—which I do not—it wouldn’t have anything to do with hands.”
Gus gave an evil laugh. “I like where this is going, Rafey. Lay it on me. What would your fetish be if you had one?”
“That query makes no sense. People don’t have hypothetical fetishes.” I hopped into his truck, adding, “They either have them or they don’t.”
“I don’t think I have one either. Boring. I gotta come up with one. Do uniforms count?”
“Yeah…maybe?” I chuckled. “What are we even talking about?”
Gus ignored the question, too busy naming his idea of the sexiest uniforms as he traversed midday traffic toward campus. Fireman, police officer, UPS driver, doctor…