Face Offs & Cheap Shots (CU Hockey Book 2)

It’s getting late, and the plan had been to leave well before now, but Beck is putting away drinks like he’s on a mission. I’d like to say it’s not that I hope he gets drunk and screws up tomorrow, but that idea certainly holds appeal.

It’s not the reason I’m still here though. Beck could write himself off whether I’m here or not. No, instead I have this useless feeling of responsibility to make sure everyone gets back to the dorms okay. Including Beck.

“Damn, I’m going to miss this,” Grant says.

“Unlikely.” Beck snorts. “You’re going to be living the NHL life. Hockey, booze, puck bunn—ah, I mean …”

I whack him on the back of the head. “Asshole.”

Zach laughs and turns a sickening look on Grant, while talking to me. “It’s okay, Topher, we know what the reality will be.”

“Wait …” Beck sets a hand on my thigh as he leans right over to look at Zach. “What did you call him?”

“Toph—”

“No.” I cut him off. “No. None of that. It’s not a thing.”

“Topher.” Beck sits back, giving me some damn space, and presses his fist to his mouth. His eyes are wide, like Zach’s given him some kind of gift. “Topher.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Whatever you say. Topher.”

Well, I guess it is a thing. All I can do now is try to hide how lame I think that name is. I’ve let Zach get away with it because he’s Grant’s guy and he’s kinda funny, but I’ve always drawn the line when Grant tried it.

For exactly this reason.

Beck will latch onto anything he knows will get under my skin.

“Talk smack all you want. It’s going to be Captain Topher to you.”

Beck tilts his head. “It’s adorable you think that.”

“I’m sorry you choose to be in denial.”

“Denial?” He points at Cohen. “After we go streaking for these losers, there won’t be any question of who’s packing the big guns.”

“A big dick means nothing on the ice.”

His pretty-boy smile comes in full force. “And there you go, thinking of my dick again. Do we need to get you help?”

Grant thumps the table. “Okay, we’re out.”

It distracts me from a response, and I watch as he and Zach stand up. This is—wow. I suddenly realize this is the last time I’m gonna see my friend in … I have no fucking clue.

I awkwardly stand up. “Good luck, man.”

“Thanks.” He pulls me in for a hug. “Captain or not, you’re going to do awesome this year.”

“So you don’t think I can do it either?”

“Did I say that?” He lets me go, and Zach gives me an awkward wave. “Trust the team. They might be a bunch of goofballs, but when it comes to the game, they’re smart. And”—he trades a look with Zach—“have some fun with it. It’s your last year. Your last time with these guys. When they give you bullshit challenges, do them.”

“I can’t help but think you wouldn’t be saying that if this was happening to you.”

“Yeah, but it’s not.” He laughs and holds up his hand to the others. “I’ll forget you assholes when I’m famous.”

Zach sighs like he’s too used to Grant by now.

To be fair, we all are. He’s leaving big skates to fill.

They leave me with a pressure bearing down on my chest, and as Grant loops his arm around Zach, I hear Zach say, “I know I’m hopeless, but there was definitely sexual tension there.”

Grant laughs it off.

Tension, yes. He’s right about that. Sexual tension? No. Nope, nope, nope. Never. Nope. No. Seven no’s should cover it. No wait, one more: fucking nope!

It’s time to call it. I’m about to tell the team to get their asses up and get moving, but when I turn back around, it’s only Beck waiting for me.

“Let’s go.” I’m resigned to another annoying walk back to the dorms.

We leave, and I watch Beck to see if I’m gonna have to carry his heavy ass, but he seems to be walking straight.

“You’re not drunk,” I realize.

“Huh? What are you talking about?”

“You drank at least double the rest of us, how are you still on your feet?” I’m nowhere near drunk, but the beer has given me a buzz.

“Dude, half of those were Cokes.”

“What?”

“It’s called responsible drinking.”

“I didn’t think you knew the meaning of the word.”

“What, drinking? I’ve done my research on it.”

I let out a long, patient breath, reminding myself it’s stupid to engage. The guy can’t have a single conversation without it turning into a joke.

“Oh, I get it.” He slings his arm around my shoulders, and I immediately shrug him off. “You were hoping I’d have a hangover for tomorrow. Wow. Harsh, Topher, even for you.”

Patience. I just need some fucking patience.

“Here I was thinking you wanted to become captain the honorable way. Instead, you wanted me to get drunk so you could take advantage of the situation. And not in the fun way.”

“Has anyone ever told you your voice is on the level of shattered glass?”

“Maybe if you removed that hockey stick from your ass, you’d find me more enjoyable.”

“Doubtful. You’d still be … you.”

“Interesting.” Beck rubs his hand over his jaw. “I’m beginning to think this thing between us is personal.”

“Only now picking up on that?”

“To be honest, I’ve never really given a shit before.”

“Cool story.” Since when did campus get this big? We’re still barely halfway to the dorm. “Why do you care now?”

“I don’t. But it would be a whole lot easier for you to follow me next year if you liked me a little bit.”

“It would be a whole lot easier to like you if you weren’t a self-assured ass.”

“And now you’re thinking of my ass. Geez, Topher, maybe Grant’s little boy toy is right.”

“Don’t call Zach that. I wasn’t talking about your ass. And no one is right about anything.” My face is getting hot, and I remind myself about the patience thing again. Beck isn’t going to get a rise out of me for implying I’m gay. I’m not. But … no. Nope. What had been going on in my head for Grant was hero worship and nothing else. I just get a hard-on for serious talent.

That’s it.

When Beck doesn’t respond, I know something’s up. And as much as I don’t wanna look at his smug face, I can’t stop myself. He’s watching me with way too much going on behind his eyes for someone who’s drunk at least as much as me.

“What?”

“Nothing. You got really angry about that all of a sudden.”

“I’m not angry, you’re talking shit.”

“Right.” His eyebrows lift a little, making me want to smack that expression off his face. “That totally explains why your hands are clenched.”

I hurry to release my fists. “Turns out, anything more than a few hours with you is more strenuous than first practice of the season.”

“You going to throw up now too?”

“That was one time, freshman year. Let it go.”

“Sure thing, Topher.”

I groan and try not to lash out at him. The thing is, from anyone else, I’d tell them to shut up and move on. They’d call me names, I’d throw them right back, then we’d get the fuck over it.

But Beck has somehow managed to unearth all the little buttons that drive me crazy, and even more annoying is that I let him get to me. This summer is about working on the team, finding new talent and future CU students, and proving to everyone I’m the captain they need. If I keep letting Beck piss me off, none of those things are going to happen. I’ve managed to keep my cool the past few years, but I’ve also never had to deal with him in such close capacity before.

And when I find that stupid smirk back on his face, I know this summer is going to kill me.

I need to find a new way of handling him.

Otherwise I can kiss being captain goodbye.