Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 89535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89535 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Asher, apparently, is terrible at small talk. Or at least, he is with me. It shouldn’t bother me, shouldn’t even be on my radar, because befriending jocks isn’t something I tend to do. And if I’m honest, if it weren’t for Coach Dalton asking me to keep an eye on Asher, I probably would’ve kept walking tonight, but I’m glad I stopped. Pleasantly surprised, even.
I try not to stereotype, but the jocks I’ve met—and I’ve met a lot through hockey and Dad—only want to talk about sports.
“Do you feel better now?” I ask, trying to revive this conversation.
His expression tenses. “I’d convinced myself Rhys was meeting up with some sick fuck from the internet. I was a little panicked, okay?”
“I was actually talking about hurling at practice today, but yeah, I can understand why your brother was your first thought. Has he ever done something like that before?”
“Not that I know of. But until last year, I was away playing for the juniors, so who the hell knows.”
I almost ask if his parents are going to be angry, but they seemed like a touchy subject for him, so I turn the conversation somewhere I’m sure will hold his interest while boring me to tears. “Think you’ll make the Frozen Four this year?”
Instead of the immediate uplift I’m expecting, Asher’s tense shoulders slump. “Probably not.”
“Already writing it off? Don’t let Dad hear that.”
Finally, finally that gets a real smile. “I can’t believe Coach Hogan is your dad. What’s that like?”
“Like any dad, I suppose. He has high standards for me, he loves me, but ever since I quit hockey, there’s always been a little … distance and disappointment.”
Asher snickers. “You played hockey?”
“Hey …” I shove him playfully. “I did. And I was good too.”
“Get out.”
“I was.”
“No fucking way. I don’t believe it.”
“I quit when I was fourteen. You can imagine how that went down.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t kick your ass.”
“Me too, actually.”
“So … why did you? Quit, I mean.” Asher sounds like he’s curious when he really doesn’t want to be.
“I didn’t like it, for one. And around that time, I was figuring myself out. Working through what I wanted in life. Sports wasn’t one of those things. Boys were though.”
Asher turns to me, and I look up to meet his eyes.
“I’m gay, by the way. I always make sure I get that out there early on, because I don’t have time for assholes.”
Asher looks stunned for a moment. I’m lucky in that I’ve never felt like my sexuality has made me a target, and with all the queer guys who’ve passed through the CU team, I’m pretty sure it won’t now either.
“Sounds to me like you’d have plenty of time for assholes. Literally.”
I laugh hard. I was not expecting that response. “I take it you’re cool, then.”
“You won’t get any trouble from me.” But there’s something in the way he says it that makes me not so sure. It’s almost teasing. And not in a bad way. Asher’s broad smile has completely taken over his face, and he almost looks like a different person.
I could see Katey being attracted to him instantly.
Luckily, I’m smarter than that. It takes more than a pretty face to draw me in.
We reach a corner, and Asher slows. “That’s me down there.”
I’m about to say goodbye, when he drops to his knees and scoops Hades up into his arms. My dumb dog barks excitedly in his face as Asher squeezes him tight and scratches his head furiously.
“Ah, shit,” Asher says. “He peed on me.”
I catch my laugh. “He does that when he’s excited.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.” Asher eases Hades off his lap. “Anytime Hellhound wants a pissing post, you let me know.”
“Will do.” I drag my gaze from the dog up to Asher and find him watching me. This close, I can make out the bright shade of green in his eyes, and when he’s not scowling, he seems like someone I could be friends with. I hesitate over offering him my number, because while he’s okay now, I sense that overall, he’s not. I’ve come to learn that offering guys your number after letting them know you’re gay can be taken the wrong way. Asher seems cool, but I really have no idea of his sexuality, and most people still think straight is the default—so when he didn’t offer up details on his preferences, it makes me lean toward that assumption. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I watch him leave before walking the three blocks home.
Dad’s in his office when I first walk in, so I let Hades off his leash to run outside and throw myself in the armchair across from Dad’s desk.
“You’ll never guess who I just ran into.”
“Oh, yeah? Who?”
“One of your players. Asher Dalton. You’ll be proud. I’m being nice already.”
Dad stops whatever he’s reading and rubs his wide jaw. “Asher, huh?”