SWNOVELS The Forbidden Freshman: Chapter 10
My skates cut through the ice as I whip around the rink, building up speed when I round the back of the goal and hurl my puck at Baxter. He blocks, kicking it away to Asher, who slaps it back toward me.
We’ve been doing this drill for the last ten minutes, giving Baxter a decent goalie workout. Practice has been running for over an hour, and I’m damn tired. Sweat has been pouring down the back of my neck, and I’m itching for a scalding-hot shower. For reasons I don’t even understand, I’ve been irritable ever since walking away from Mikayla. I don’t get why she keeps plaguing me.
We had a fun flirt this morning, and that was it.
I can’t pursue anything more.
And maybe that’s it. I can usually get chicks out of my system pretty fast. Any attraction is acted on, and then I’m good to walk away.
But I can’t hook up with Mikayla. I can’t hook up with anyone until this damn month is over.
Shit.
Can’t believe I lost at fucking darts. I was so damn cocky last night. Asher goaded me right into a corner, and now I’m lumped with this punishment that is a fresh type of torture.
But I refuse to complain to anyone on the team because I’m not some whiny baby. I’m a man who can complete a bet. A month doesn’t have to be that long.
I slap another shot at goal and make it between Baxter’s legs.
“Aw, shit!” He gathers it up, firing it back onto the ice, where Asher and I tussle for possession. It’s a quick win for me, and I skate away from him, laughing, until I get blindsided by Jason, who checks me into the wall with a loud thud.
“What the fuck, man!” I push him off, and his hyena laugh scrapes down my spine as he skates backward with a whoop.
I want to down the guy so bad, but Coach blows his whistle and we’re forced to skate to the side of the rink for our post-practice wrap-up.
We stand there puffing while he runs through what we did right, what we need to work on, and when our exhibition game is.
“I’m expecting a win, boys. Should be a guarantee against the Tigers as long as we can keep our defensive line strong.” He points at Liam and Connor. “I’m expecting your best.” Then he turns to Jason and me. “And no screwing around in the offense. I have you two on the same line, and I want to see efficient, coordinated play. No showboating.”
I give Jason a quick side-eye. The coach is most definitely talking about him, but of course he has to lump us together, because apparently the sun shines out Jason’s ass when it comes to Coach Bergeron… or whoever is pulling the hockey budget strings.
“All right, shower up. Get your butts out of here.” He flicks a thumb over his shoulder, and we skate off the ice, trailing into the locker room.
Asher’s right behind me, picking up where he left off before practice began.
“Seriously, where did you meet that little sassy mouth?”
“I told you already,” I growl.
“Damn, bro. Must be killing you right now.” I glance over my shoulder in time to see his eyebrows wiggle. “Knowing you can’t tap that for a whole month. She’ll have moved on by then, dude.”
“Shut your mouth,” I mutter. “I don’t want to bang her.”
“Shit, man, I sure as hell do. What I wouldn’t give to shut up that sassy little mouth with my tongue. She was a firecracker. Bet she’s a wildcat in the sack too.” He makes a cat noise, scraping his “claws” through the air and causing a ripple of laughter to float through the locker room.
“Who are we talkin’ about?” Jason calls from the corner.
“No one,” I shout back, then throw a warning glare at Asher.
Thankfully, my roommate can’t stand the new captain and seals his lips without a fight. I stalk to the showers, stripping off and soaking in that hot spray, trying to chase off my frustration with shampoo and soap.
It doesn’t work.
I’m still riled as I grab my stuff and walk out of the rink.
Liam’s leaning against my truck waiting for me. “We going home, or do you need to hit up Offside?”
Our local sports bar is a favorite—big-screen TVs dominate one end, along with pool tables, while the other side of the barn-sized establishment is a stage and dance floor. You can go there to hang with your bros or dance with some hos. That’s not my saying, by the way, but it’s damn catchy and hard not to think whenever Offside is mentioned.
I shrug and figure I could use a drink. But as I reach the driver’s door, I change my mind.
“Screw it, let’s just go back to Hockey House.”
Liam slips into the passenger seat and gives me an assessing look. “No offense, man, but you look like you could use a drink.”
“I could.” I nod, the idea of a cold brewski feeling pretty damn sweet right now. “But I don’t want to spend the night fending off women because I can’t taste a one of ’em.”
“I’m pretty sure you’re allowed to taste. You’re just not allowed to—”
I shut him up with a growl, but his words slipped apart with laughter anyway.
“I’m sorry, bro. Really.” He sounds so fucking amused as I reverse out of the parking space and head for home. “I still can’t believe you gave in to that bet so easily.”
“Yeah.” I sigh, running a hand through my wet hair. “I just couldn’t let Asher get the better of me. If I didn’t rise to the challenge, he was gonna hold it over me for weeks. You know how relentless the guy is.”
“I do.” Liam grins, then lightly slaps my arm with the back of his hand. “You can do this, though. You’re strong enough to resist.”
“Yeah,” I murmur, thoughts of Mikayla dashing through my mind.
I can resist her.
I just wish I could stop thinking about her.
Every time I do, I can’t help grinning over how rude she was. Girls don’t act that way around me. They bat their eyelashes and giggle, or they give me their fuck me eyes and I deliver. But this lil’ mouse gave me the finger and told me she was gonna kill me. It’s classic. It’s funny.
Which is why I should probably distance myself from her.
Or maybe not.
I can’t imagine her doing any I want to lick your face off type moves on me, which means it’s probably safe enough to talk to her when I see her. If I see her.
I just won’t seek her out.
There, problem solved.
This doesn’t have to be a big thing.
It’s not like she’s gonna track me down. To her, I’m just the jackass who called her lil’ mouse… and I won’t be able to help myself from doing it again, because the way her nose wrinkled and the way she fought her smile is too tempting to resist.
She’s easy to tease because I know I’m not gonna offend her. She’s a tough nugget and will just throw it straight back at me. I’m not dealing with a Little Miss Priss. Which is why my eyes are scanning the street as we drive past Greek Row, in spite of my decision to not go looking for her.