fifteen
Blake
“Dude! Get your fucking head straight. There should be no reason you missed that pass!” Charlie shouts from a couple feet ahead on the ice.
I let out my fourth deep breath of the day and look up at the boiling red right defensemen. I scoff as he rolls his eyes and skates away.
Today everyone seems to be way more tense than usual and for good reason. The first game of the season is in less than three weeks and Coach has been on our ass all day. While the guys were stressed from the threats of bag skating with Clef Jones, I’m stressed from the idea of working with Clef Jones' daughter tonight.
Cleo and I haven’t talked since our almost kiss two days ago. Today, I’m supposed to go over to her apartment after class and act as if everything is fine between us.
But, it isn’t.
We’re supposed to be doing the whole weird “friends that almost saw each other fully naked and then forgot about it” thing. But, on Saturday we almost kissed. Hell… she was going to kiss me had we not been interrupted.
She. Was. Going to. Kiss. Me.
Ugh.
Stupid phone.
I don’t notice Braxton skating up to me until I feel the weight of his arm over my shoulder. “Don’t worry about CT. He’s in a mood because he saw Vee with one of the baseball guys yesterday. ”
I nod, noting that I’d have to check on Charlie before the end of the day, and begin to wrap up. Today’s practice was probably the worst we've had since the start of the season and I’m shocked that I haven’t been called–
“Wilder! Stay behind after practice,” Coach calls out to me as the guys begin wrapping up their things, skating off the ice.
Spoke too soon.
I sigh, working fast to wrap up and get off the ice. Maybe I was wrong in thinking that I didn’t fuck up eternally on the ice today. I really need to get my focus in check. I can’t have the scouts from the Washington Eagles looking at me and wondering if they made a bad decision by looking to draft me. I need to show them that their decision won't be made out of stupidity.
When I approach Coach, I immediately look down at my feet. The look that he’s throwing my way is searing hot, I’d get burnt if we made eye contact.
Coach frowns, looking down at his clipboard then back up at me. “Where the hell is your head at, kid? You told me last season that you were ready for this, Wilder,” he says, tone full of disappointment with small traces of anger. I flinch at his words, my head hanging lower as they sink in.
Coach and I have had this talk before, mainly last season when he saw me begin to better myself near the end of the year after a major crash out with girls and alcohol in the beginning.
I will never forget the day that Clef Jones went out of his way to take me out to dinner and try to get me some help.
Last year for me was one of the best seasons and shittiest years of my life. My nana passed at the beginning of the season just when we hit a three-game winning streak. But, I never stopped playing. I played so hard to the point of exhaustion, which was probably why I turned to slight alcohol abuse and relying on sex to numb the pain from grief. Since then, I’ve only been with a few girls here and there and limited my alcohol intake tremendously.
I can’t slip back into old habits.
Coach, Jace, and Derek stopped me way before I ever reached the point of relying on substances to numb the pain of grief; I wouldn’t consider myself an alcoholic. It was just a month of bad decisions .
“I am ready.” I gulp, my eyes finding the laces of my shoes before the face of the man who helped me at my lowest.
“Son, I need you more than anything right now. You entered the draft this year and I know that Washington is looking to take you on next season. You only have this year with us and then without a doubt you’ll be playing in the NHL come next fall. I need you to keep your promise from last year.”
The esteemed promise. How could I ever forget that?
“I won’t disappoint, I just got a little distracted, but it won’t happen again,” I say meeting his eyes.
Coach gives me a lighthearted smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he claps a hand on my shoulder, and then the two of us make our way to the parking lot still side-by-side.
“Good. Now who’s this girl that Jace keeps telling me is distracting you?”
I come to an abrupt stop; my heart feels as if it’ll fall out of my chest as I side-eye the man.
do I tell him that the one woman distracting me is the girl that he one, told the entire team plus the football team, was off limits, and two, is his goddamn daughter.
“Uh…” I chuckle, scratching the hairs on the back of my neck.
“C’mon, B, I’m cool! Even my daughter tells me about her boyfriends” he chuckles, patting my back as I side eye his figure walking ahead.
Boyfriends?
As in multiple?
Now, I’m not one to hate on polyamory! Two partners can be better than one… but Cleo doesn’t seem like the type to date two people at once. Well, she did date Marcelo…eh, he’s not ugly. He’s just… ew.
Ugh. Enough about him–
“Blake, you hear me?” Coaches' voices ring from his navy-blue pick-up truck in the middle of the parking lot. “If she’s the one, she won’t distract you during the season! She’ll want to help you.”
“Everyone, be sure to meet up with your assigned partners throughout the course of the semester! I know how some of y’all love to procrastinate but procrastinating this assignment will ensure failure rather than success.”
The class remains silent as Professor Hawkins continues with today's lecture.
This Monday feels as if it’s been dragging on for years. From my less than savory practice this morning, to the hot-n-cold attitude from Denver and Cleo’s silence. Everything seems so…boring.
That's what it is.
Today is fucking boring.
Monday’s in general are boring days but today? Today takes the cake on boring ass Mondays.
I scan the classroom and sigh, even my fellow classmates look boring. All except one, of course.
Today, Cleo is dressed in all pink (surprise, surprise); her choice of pink today is a light pink short-sleeved sweater set with matching trousers and sneakers. Her straightened hair is pulled into a sleek high ponytail with a tiny ribbon wrapped around it in a delicate bow.
She briefly side eyes me, obviously catching me staring but returns to her task like the good little scholar that she is. Something about her being so attentive and focused just makes me want to both bother her and watch her be in her element.
Obviously, I choose the former of the two.
With a small smile, I reach into my book bag and pull out a small sheet of paper and proceed to write her the cheesiest love note in existence.
The lecture is boring :) but staring at you for 3 hours is enough entertainment to last a lifetime.
-b.w.
I toss the note onto Cleo’s lap, chuckling silently as she jumps. Cleo gives me that nastiest mug I’ve ever seen in my life before looking the note over and proceeding to snort so loud that Professor Hawkins has to pause in the middle of her drawn-out sentence.
Denver peers over Cleo’s shoulder, snickering to herself as Professor Hawkins coughs and continues on with her lecture.
“I’m happy to be of service, Boy Scout, but please focus so I’m not the only one working on our project.” She smiles sarcastically, eyes still on her computer.
“Oh, I’m focused.” I drawl, resting my face on my palm.
Cleo rolls her eyes at the action and pops me with her fluffy pink pen.
I know she didn’t just–
“Yup, I did that. Now, pay attention, Lover Boy.”