Page 5

5

Nick

I know Coach had high hopes that Caleb and I would get along, but that’s basically impossible.

Even if I backed off and left him alone once I found out he hated what he calls the “fake-ass golden boy” attitude, nothing changed.

If anything, he seems a lot more passive-aggressive. He’s doing these random things to annoy me, such as taking long morning showers even if he knows I also have early classes and turning his music louder when I’m studying.

I wouldn’t think he was doing them on purpose if he didn’t keep glancing at me, as if trying to size me up. That’s how he is on the ice, too. He teases and taunts people until they snap. He thinks it’s amusing, which I don’t get. At all.

And the things he does do annoy me, though I’ve quickly figured out that if I don’t give him the reaction that he’s looking for, then he’s the one who loses his temper in the end.

So I continue to act like his taunts are only minor inconveniences that I can look away from.

Unfortunately, Rhys doesn’t have the same outlook.

My best friend has been annoyed with Caleb on my behalf, glaring at him and practically hissing at him every time he walks by. Rhys has always been like that. We’ve known each other since we were kids, and he’s always taken it upon himself to be overly protective. I know he’d stop if I asked him to, but I don’t want him to feel as if I don’t appreciate it. Because I do. I’m lucky that he always has my back.

I’m just not sure how to tell him he’s only encouraging Caleb to taunt him even more, though.

Coach’s idea of doing a scrimmage and experimenting with Caleb, Rhys, and me on the same line is going horribly. He wanted to see where Caleb fit in, and I can tell you now—Caleb and Rhys do not work together. At all.

Though… Caleb and I jived better than I expected, which surprised both of us. He always goes all out in practice and even Rhys has a hard time keeping up with him and his passes, and because I may be more passive-aggressive that I thought, I may have upped my intensity to match Caleb’s.

I thought he’d be irritated because I was intentionally passing where he shouldn’t be, but he was there. Every time. He never complained, and I think I may have spotted him grinning ear to ear every time he’d return the favor. Each time I went a little faster to match him, he only seemed to get more pumped up.

We’re heading to the sidelines when Caleb grumbles, almost too quietly, “Not bad, Sandoval.” Not expecting the compliment, I flush immediately. Before I can respond, though, he adds in a much louder voice, “Much better than our captain who can’t keep up with either of us.”

Rhys grits his teeth. “You won’t even pass to me.”

“I won’t pass to you if you won’t do shit.”

“You damn—”

Sighing, I get between them. Coach blows his whistle and tells us to cool it, and I drag Rhys away.

“I’m close to punching him, Nick,” Rhys seethes. He slams his stick against the bench and yanks his helmet off, earning him a wry look from Coach.

“Please don’t,” I mutter.

Caleb bursts out laughing. “Please do. Playing with you is so dull. I’m begging you to make it interesting.”

Rhys shakes his gloves off, shoves me aside, and grabs Caleb by the front of his shirt. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this angry before, the look in his eyes murderous. Caleb grins at him and cocks his head to the side, taunting him further.

“Enough!” Coach yells. “Caleb, stop messing with your new teammates. The three of you better get a grip or I’m benching all of you for our first game.”

My jaw drops. What did I do?

Rhys grumbles and lets go of Caleb, who gives his uncle a mock salute.

“Morgan, go cool off. Caleb, see me in my office.” Coach shakes his head and turns to his assistant, his expression twisted in frustration.

Giving Caleb one last icy glare, Rhys heads to the locker room, leaving me pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Oh, Sandoval,” Coach suddenly calls, lifting his chin at me. “Actually, I need to talk to you as well. My office, before you go.”

What, to ask me to babysit Caleb again? To his face this time?

I nod at Coach and make my way to the locker room, absently listening to the surrounding chatter. Schultz and Caleb are walking in front of me, and Schultz is poking fun at Caleb for the shit he’s been pulling all day. Snickering, Caleb seems pleased with himself.

Coach should have asked Schultz to babysit instead. I have half the mind to ask him if he’d like to switch dorm rooms with me.

“You know what I noticed?” Schultz suddenly asks Caleb. He looks over his shoulder to see if I’m listening too. “Sandoval, you want to hear?”

“Sure?” I ask uncertainly.

“Your styles when entering the offensive zone are drastically different. Jennings here is aggressive and always does a dump and chase, sending it in deep, messing with the defense line and then fighting for possession. You, Sandoval, are the exact opposite and always go for a controlled entry.”

I frown, debating whether I want to disagree with Schultz—but he’s the team’s best defenseman and is always quick to notice these things, and I don’t think I have it in me to get into it with him right now.

Caleb, of course, doesn’t have the same inhibitions. He argues, “My way works better.”

“Not when it gets predictable! You need to change it up a bit, like Morgan does. He does whatever fits. Jennings, your zone entries are too aggressive. Sandoval, yours are too controlled.”

Caleb snorts. “Okay, chill. It’s only practice, of course I’ll mix it up in an actual game.”

That seems to satisfy Schultz, and he lets it go.

In the locker room, Rhys is nowhere to be seen—probably made a beeline towards the shower. I text him not to wait for me today, and that I’ll head back on my own, and then change into a shirt and slacks. Grabbing my bag, I make my way to Coach’s office. I’m all sweaty and I hate how my clothes cling to me, but I’d rather catch Coach before Caleb does and take a shower back in the dorm.

Unfortunately, it turns out he has the same idea.

When I get to Coach’s office, only Caleb’s there, sitting on one of the chairs across Coach’s desk and running a hand through his damp hair.

Brilliant.

He makes a face. “What, you’re just going to stand there?”

“I’ll come back.”

Before I can head off, though, Coach appears in the hallway and walks towards me. He waves me inside his office, and I stand there like the dumbass that I am.

Coach glances inside his office and clears his throat. “Caleb, can I have a word with Sandoval first?”

“I got here first.”

“I’m not here to talk to you about hockey.”

“Jesus, did you call me to your office to catch up with me?” Caleb huffs out a laugh. When he sees how Coach lifts his eyebrows and fixes him a stare, Caleb clears his throat and mumbles, “Sorry.”

My jaw almost drops. This guy can actually apologize? Coach is a fucking magician.

“But,” Caleb says, and a shit-eating grin spreads across his face, “I share a room with my good friend here. We don’t share any secrets. Can I sit here while you talk? It’s fine, right? Nicky?”

Nicky?

What a load of bullshit. I force the biggest, most fake smile I can muster, only because I know it annoys him. “Of course.”

Coach frowns. “Are you sure, Sandoval? I wanted to talk to you about agents.”

Fuck. My smile wavers, but I catch myself when Caleb fixes a stare at me. “Yes.”

“All right. If you say so.”

God, my chest tightens as I take the other seat in front of the desk, right across Caleb, who’s giving me a smug smile. Coach rounds the table and takes a seat, leaning back and giving his nephew a long look. Then he sighs and shakes his head, probably deciding that it’s not worth telling Caleb to leave.

“Okay, Sandoval,” Coach says. “I’ll cut to the chase. I know you’ve told me before that you’re not interested in going pro, but an agent—Aleks Polinski, if you’re familiar with him—has been asking about you.”

“Um.”

“You’re one of the best college players around, and you’re on your senior year. I believe more people will express interest. You told me before that going pro is not possible for you, and that’s why you never joined the draft. Is that still the case?”

I nod, ignoring the way my stomach twists.

If I had a spine, I’d be honest and say, fuck yes. Let me talk to them. Let me go pro. Unfortunately, I give Coach my practiced answer. “I’m not interested in going pro.”

Caleb’s scoff is a stark reminder that he’s here for this. “Wait up, you didn’t even join the draft, with those stats of yours? And now you don’t want to be a free agent? What a waste.”

And just like that, my anxiety’s replaced with anger. Yes, I didn’t join the draft despite being strongly advised to. At eighteen, I was told that if I had joined, I would probably have been one of the first picks—but since I knew that I’d never be going pro, I didn’t see the point.

Now that I’m in my final year of college hockey, because I’m undrafted, my last chance of going pro is to be a free agent—but I shouldn’t even be thinking of that possibility, despite Coach and Rhys nudging me towards that path.

It’s not the smartest decision, I know, and I could do without Caleb reminding me about it. My mouth twitches and I glower at him.

“Caleb, get out,” Coach says sternly.

“What?” Caleb laughs, leaning forward towards me. A whiff of his scent invades my senses, further yanking me away from the tightening in my chest. Instinctively, I sit up straighter to get away from him. “You can have something many people would kill for, and you don’t even want it.”

I want it.

“Caleb.” Coach’s voice is much more firm now. “I let you get away with a lot of things because you’re my nephew, and I know you’re going through something, but you’re toeing the line here.”

“My bad.” Caleb shrugs and leans back and mimes zipping his mouth, saying, “I’m not here.”

Coach grunts. “Get out.”

“It’s fine.” I look at Coach and smile. “Thanks, Coach. I appreciate it, but… I’m going to be helping my dad with his company right after I graduate.”

Caleb asks, “Does he pay as much as the NHL?”

Something in me breaks and I swivel towards him and snap, “I thought you weren’t here?”

He seems to be taken off-guard for a moment—then he gets that shit-eating grin of his again, leaning back and crossing his arms as he studies me.

Coach scrubs a hand over his face and sighs. “Thank you, Sandoval. That was all. If you change your mind, let me know.”

“Thank you,” I say again, making a move to get up.

Then I pause, glancing at Caleb, who’s still watching me.

On second thought…

I sit back down and mimic Caleb, leaning back and crossing my arms. “Actually, Coach, maybe I can wait for my good friend Caleb here so we can head back together.”

Caleb’s grin falters, and he stares at me in surprise.

Mood. I’m shocked, too.

A startled laugh escapes Coach. I don’t think he’s familiar with this petty side of mine. He says, “Okay. Seems fair.”

“What the fuck?” Caleb mouths at me.

I shrug.

“I only wanted to ask how you’ve been adjusting to your new school,” Coach tells Caleb. “How are your classes? Have you been making friends?”

Caleb grimaces and his face turns a fascinating shade of red. I lift my eyebrows at him and smile, urging him on.

“I’m not a kid,” he mumbles.

Coach gives him a look. “You’re my nephew and I told your mom I’d look after you. This wouldn’t bother you if Sandoval weren’t here, but you brought this on yourself.”

My smile grows and I tilt my head at him.

“Now, answer me. How are things? Are training hours too much for your schedule?”

“No, everything’s cool.” Caleb’s voice is low and awkward, and I can tell this is a humbling experience for him, letting a guy he hates listen in on his dear uncle checking up on him. “I actually got a part-time job at the coffee shop just outside campus.”

A ball lodges in my throat at the reminder that he’s working where Jessie is, though he’s never brought her up.

“You’re not overworking yourself? Have you been eating well?”

“Yes.”

“Have you gone through McAvoy’s development plan for you?”

Caleb’s tone turns impatient. “Yeees.”

“Who’s McAvoy?” I interrupt.

When Caleb only glowers at me, Coach’s shoulder shakes with the effort it takes him not to laugh. “He’s Buffalo’s development coach, and he helps prospects like Caleb get ready for the NHL. Caleb here is most likely NHL-bound after this year’s over.”

I perk up. “Oh, right! The Jets drafted you!”

“Yes,” Caleb says dryly.

Coach smiles and I’m pretty sure he’s still fighting back a laugh when his gaze flickers to me. “Hmm… and how are you two getting along? Has Sandoval been helping you out around campus?”

“No?”

“I offered,” I speak up. “But he said I gave off the vibes of a serial killer.” It’s a low blow I’m snitching to Coach, but whatever. Apparently, he’s successfully brought out all the pettiness in me.

“Caleb,” Coach hisses.

“I didn’t say that.” Caleb kicks my shin, and I let out a surprised laugh. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s funny to see him lose his cool.

“You definitely said that,” I counter

“I used the word murderer, actually.”

This guy.

Coach rolls his eyes. “Just… leave. Both of you. And let me know if you need anything, Caleb.”

“Yeah. Of course.” Caleb’s attention snaps to me again, and I deepen my smile. His jaw clenches. Caleb gets up and I follow his lead, trying not to burst out laughing at the way he’s balling his fists.

“Oh, and,” Coach says, just as we’re almost out the door. “Penny? She’s happy you moved closer to home?”

I turn my head just in time to see the strange shift in Caleb’s expression. His gaze falls to the ground, and he looks… sad? “Yes,” he says. “I’ll tell her you asked about her.”

Caleb exchanges a few more words with Coach and I wait for him in the hallway. When he finally turns to leave, he makes a face when he sees me still standing there. I expect him to say something snarky, like tell me I don’t need to be a creep and wait for him, but he only huffs under his breath and walks past me.

Pleasant, as ever.

I was going to walk back to campus, but I might as well try my luck. “I rode here with Rhys, but he should already be gone. Can I catch a ride with you?”

“Whatever,” he grumbles.

I follow him to his car, and we don’t talk the entire ride back to our dorm. This guy’s mood swings are out of this world, and I’d rather not get into it, so I don’t say a thing.

When we get to our room, he gets into the shower right away, and I plop down on my bed and take my shirt off. Ugh. I’m all sticky and disgusting all over, and I only hope Caleb won’t take one of his absurdly long showers to piss me off.

Seriously though, who’s Penny? It really is none of my business, but his reaction niggles at my mind. A… girlfriend, maybe? But why would he be so touchy about it?

My stomach rumbles and I pull out my phone. Pizza sounds good. I’m too wiped out to head to the cafeteria.

Caleb gets out of the shower, and I instinctively look up, only to face away immediately. He has a towel around his neck and is shirtless, his sweatpants hanging low on his hips.

Not sure why him walking around practically naked surprises me, as if I don’t share a locker room with an entire hockey team.

His voice startles me. “So you’re turning down going pro to work in an office?”

“Uh? Yeah?” I look up and a single droplet makes its way down his torso. It’s distracting. I’ve seen him shirtless in the locker room before—not that I make it a habit to stare—and he removes his piercings during practice. He put them back in now though, the silver barbells on his chest catching my attention.

“Eyes up here,” he mumbles.

My face heats and I look away instead. “Sorry.”

“So. Turning down going pro. Who does that? What does your dad even do?” Before I can actually answer him, though, he grabs his phone. “Don’t bother telling me. I’ll Google it.”

I bite down the urge to tell him to put a shirt on.

Caleb whistles. “Sandoval Enterprises? Wooow, fancy. Your family owns one of the biggest construction companies in the state of New York, huh? Oh, and he’s philanthropist, too?”

Shrugging, I ignore his questions. “Do you want to share a pizza?”

“Look, here’s a photo of your family. Nice suit, Nicky. You clean up well, huh? You look kind of like your dad, but nothing like your mom.”

She’s not my mom. “Pepperoni good?”

“So you’re the heir to a massive conglomerate, and that’s why you have to give up hockey after you graduate? What a good son.”

Ignore him, ignore him.

“No wonder you’re such a prim and proper golden boy who can’t be bothered with us peasants.”

“What are you talking about?” So much for ignoring him.

Caleb grins. “I said what I said.”

“Okay. Whatever. Pepperoni?”

“Yeah. Your treat, considering you’re apparently loaded.”

“Fine,” I say, not in the mood to even argue about it. Then, before I can stop myself, I ask, “Who’s Penny?”

His expression hardens. “What do you care?”

“Thought we were sharing is all. You literally stalked me on Google.”

“Huh.” He pauses, blinking. “Okay. Fair. Penny’s my little sister.”

“Oh.” I let out a small laugh and go back to ordering a pizza.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing.”

“I hate that word.”

When I look up at him, of course he’s still half-dressed. It catches me completely off-guard when he puts a hand on his hip and his sweatpants slip down even more, revealing his V-line. Caleb continues to stare at me, waiting for me to explain myself, so I cave and say, “I thought she was your girlfriend.”

“Never had a girlfriend, never will.”

“Because of your pleasant personality?”

He grins. “Wow, feisty. Actually, it’s because I’m gay as fuck.”

Uh?

I stare at him blankly.

“What?” he asks. “You have an issue with that?”

“Of course not. Sorry. I just didn’t realize. No issue.”

“You straight?”

The question makes my face burn again, and I hunch over my phone, hoping he can’t see me blushing. “Yes.”

“Funny, considering you’ve been checking me out for the past three minutes.”

I choke in surprise. “I’m not checking you out!”

“Keep saying that,” he says, cackling as he turns away.