Page 13

Xander, October 24th

A fter our surprise win on Saturday, the first half of the week passes in a celebratory blur. Training is a breeze, and now that we’ve put our fight behind us, Nate and I fly through our different plays and passes. Coach has to separate us for scrimmages to give the others a chance, and I’ve never had more fun sweating through my pads.

I’m looking forward to practice tonight, though right now I’m mostly glad to have finished my classes for the day, ready to enjoy some free time before heading to the rink.

I nod my head along to the heavy beat that’s raging in my headphones, raising a hand in passing at my dorm-mates who are scattered throughout the kitchen and living room.

Habitually, I turn my head to check on my roommate. Nate’s sitting at his desk, legs outstretched in front of him, one hand curled behind his head. He’s leaning as far back as the chair will go, ear pods in, but he is holding his phone up, on a call.

I raise a hand but stay out of it. He’s probably talking to his brother.

Again.

At this point I’m sure a lab could have synthetically grown an entirely new knee, surgically implanted it in someone’s leg, and taught them how to play hockey in all the time it takes Hoff to recover. No wonder Nate freaked out after falling the other day when his brother milks his injury this much.

“I have to go now. Bye,” Nate ends the call, throwing me a brief nod to acknowledge my presence.

I bite back a comment about his twin and instead focus on the thing that had me skipping back from class.

“Hey, you ready?”

“For what?”

“Ready to go to the shelter? Walk some dogs?” I add the latter part when there’s no sign of recollection from him. I heave a sigh. We filled out the online forms for the dog-walker application to the local animal shelter a good month ago and never managed to make it so far. I know Nate isn’t a dog person, but I didn’t want to go on my own. At least not the first time.

“Did you forget?”

“I uh...yeah. Can’t we go next week? I don’t really feel like going out, and there’s training later...”

“Come on, that’s what you said last time too! No! Let’s go!” I walk over to pull him along by the back of his chair, making him huff—and eventually laugh, even if it’s reluctant.

“Okay, okay!” Nate jumps up, making me stumble. He grins mischievously at that, so I don’t mind looking stupid.

Our squabbling continues until we’re outside and walking along the parking spots. Nate’s car, a Honda Civic, is in the second row. His shoulder bumps into mine as he rounds the way to the driver’s side, where I’m already holding out my hand for the keys. I tilt my head and step back enough to allow Nate to unlock the car.

“Dude, really?”

“Uh, yeah? It’s my car after all?”

I’m well aware of that, of course, but usually I’m the one to drive it. Nate isn’t exactly a great driver, and he prefers to play passenger princess anyhow, making me listen to whatever new music he has discovered or talking about the latest book he’s reading. With a shrug I let him unlock the car and even open the door for him.

“Alright! I’m totally ready for you to get us stuck at a traffic light for three turns again.”

Nate stares at me, then the car key. Then his green eyes dart up to me again. For a moment there’s a stubborn glint there that I don’t recognize. Something that screams oh, I’ll show you .

A spark of excitement runs down my spine, freezing the teasing smile on my lips. The spell is broken when Nate blinks and looks away. He throws up his hands and mutters something that I don’t catch, busy with shaking off the unexpectedly intense moment.

He presses the keys into my hand and I jingle them, trying to find my way back to my playful mood. But there’s still a soft tingling in my neck, even after I’ve started the car.

***

“Hello, welcome to– Nicko?”

We’re greeted by the attendant who stands behind the counter. He’s a bit on the short and lean side, practically drowning in a large green sweater, and a vest identifying him as an employee of the shelter. His hair is more dishwater blond compared to Nate’s, but it fits the gloomy surroundings of the shelter. Unbothered by the charmless concrete walls that not even posters of adoptable dogs, cats, and other animals can beautify, the blond beams brightly at my roommate before we’re even halfway through the door.

For a second Nate looks like he’s going to turn around and bolt, but then my best friend just rolls his eyes. “I’m Nate .”

“Oh, sorry, it’s just that I–”

“You live with my brother, I know.”

I usually don’t know Nate to be this short with someone, but clearly that’s less important than this new information I’ve been unexpectedly given.

“Wow, and you haven’t strangled him yet?” I scoff, unable to imagine how it must feel to be around the sour-faced version of Nate nearly 24/7.

“Nicko’s my best friend.” The blond behind the counter frowns up at me and I wave him off, presenting my ID and the papers I’ve printed out.

“Good for him. We’re here to walk some dogs. We signed up online.”

“Oh! That’s great!” He lights right up again, apparently willing to make peace with his best friend’s critic for the good of the animals housed here. He nods as he checks my ID and then types something into the computer behind the desk.

“Here’s some more information, please read it carefully. I’ll see who I can leash up for you.”

The pamphlets he slides over are more of what I’ve already read online: a lot of information about adoption, which I skip. Some about how to treat a dog on a leash, which I skim.

My mothers always had dogs; I grew up around poodles and pitbulls. I know how to hold a leash.

“Okay, I have Violet and Lila ready for you!” the attendant calls out, and I throw a look over to Nate before following his voice toward the kennels.

We find him in the back, crouched over two very tiny chihuahuas.

“Come on, I know how to walk a real dog. My moms have a pitbull.” I look to Nate for backup, but my best friend is quickly turning away, on the brink of bursting into laughter.

“We always start first timers off with low-challenge dogs that we’re confident they can handle.” The short guy smiles sweetly and holds out the leash to one of the tiny creatures.

With a huff I take Lila—or maybe it’s Violet?—from him.

Big, bugging eyes stare up at me. Then the little shit gives a snarl and lunges straight for my ankle.

“What the fuck! ” I curse, jumping back. Behind me Nate absolutely loses his shit, laughing loudly and without any pity for my ego.

Ass.

“Lila, no. Sit!” The growling and yapping stops and my attacker obediently sits. Lila, however, keeps staring up at me, trembling faintly with murderous desire.

“There’s a good girl,” the blond coos and gently pulls the barely-a-dog back. “Maybe you should give her to Nate, if she’s too spirited for you. And you can take Violet then. She’ll go easy on you, won’t you, cutie?”

A few minutes later, Nate has stopped laughing his ass off and we’re at the lakeside, walking along the gravel paths. Both dogs are happily trailing ahead of us, sniffing here and there, looking very content with themselves. It is kind of cute, even if I am still mildly worried about my ankles.

And about accidentally stepping on or tripping over Violet. Nonetheless, I’m glad to be doing something that’s improving the quality of life for the tiny animals. Seeing the chihuahuas sniff at the mushrooms that are almost as big as their heads makes me smile.

I catch Nate doing the same and nudge him with my shoulder.

“Dogs aren’t so bad, huh?”

He shrugs, leaning down to untangle Lila from some high grass, smiling as he rubs her tiny face. Of course, the little beast doesn’t bite him, just squeaks quietly. It’s a bit cute.

“Yeah, duh, they’re great! Aren’t you? Yes, you are.” He continues to rub the little thing behind its ears, smiling like a sap, and my stomach does a stupid little flip.

“So you know the guy?” I ask to distract myself from the odd feeling. When Nate tilts his head, I toss my chin over my shoulder to indicate the way back to the shelter, where the blond is probably still laughing about his prank on me.

“Oh, you mean Linden? Yeah, of course.”

I raise a brow and wait for him to elaborate.

“He uh...went out with Nicko once. And they live together.” Nate shrugs.

“Really? Someone went out with your brother? Voluntarily?” I snort and try to picture the two together. The blond at the shelter seemed much too sweet and meek for someone like Nate’s bad-tempered twin. I guess if he’s into that, then all the power to him.

But “once” speaks for itself.

“Hey!” Nate growls at me, and I raise my hands, though I have to bite down on my tongue to not laugh.

I had barely given Nicholas van der Hoff’s sexuality any thought since he exploded in our interview. Although apparently, he has gotten less private and hypocritical about it if he doesn’t worry over sending his brother pictures of his Grindr hook-ups. Pondering over it now holds me in place long enough for Nate to get several paces ahead.

“Uh, are you coming? We’ll be late for practice.”

“Yeah, yeah, be right there.”

“Sounds like you need some convincing! Last one back at the shelter has to do laundry this weekend!”

“What?!”

He’s already running by the time I come back to my senses.

Violet and Lila bark happily as their tiny legs fly along to keep pace. We both slow down when the dogs are falling back, but Nate still wins the race to the shelter. That challenging gleam is back in his eyes when he grins at me, holding the door open.

“Have fun doing laundry, Hart!”

“Cheat,” I grumble as I squeeze past him—and tell myself that my heart is only pounding because of our run.