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)
He turns to grab his towel from his cubby, and my stare immediately drops to his bare ass.
“Are you checking me out?”
I jump at being caught, but he’s smiling again. “Just objectifying you.”
“And that’s better because …”
“It’s not personal. You have a nice butt.” It might be my imagination, but I swear he flexes.
“This is hockey. Literally everyone here has a nice butt.”
“And I’ll objectify them too.”
I won’t, because I have better self-preservation skills than that. I’m not Asher. But now I know the thought of being with a guy—or having a guy check him out—doesn’t bother Asher, I’m not worried about admiring all that lean muscle.
Katey said to look but don’t touch, after all.
That I can do.
“Careful,” he says. “I can’t imagine your dad being cool with you checking out his players.”
I pretend to draw a halo over my head. “I am a sweet, innocent angel.”
“You were eye fucking my ass.”
I shrug. “Again, it’s a nice ass.”
“You’re lucky I know better than to think you’re flirting with me.”
I don’t answer, because yes, I am flirting, just a bit, but I don’t actually want it to go anywhere. First, because hockey players are a solid no, and second, he’s right. Dad would hate it if I hooked up with one of his players. Especially when he’s already warned me away from this player in particular.
Asher starts for the showers and then turns back to me. “Hey, do you wanna be friends?”
“What is this, grade school?”
“Forget it.”
“Asher.” I can’t help laughing at how ridiculous he is. “Yes. We can be friends.”
The sound of the running shower suddenly cuts off, and Simms walks back into the locker room. He’s glaring at Asher, so I wait until Asher’s disappeared into the showers before I check Simms is okay and leave.
I don’t know what I’m getting into by being friends with Asher, but if he’s consistent, I’m sure he’ll do something soon enough to piss me off or push me away.
Fun times.
Dad and Coach Dalton are on their way down from the rink, and I make a split-second decision to say something.
“Dad, wait.”
“I don’t have time, Kole. I have a pair of dumbasses I need to deal with.”
“That’s what I wanted to say.” I quickly step in front of him and block his path. “You should go easy on them.”
“What for? You of all people know there’s no fighting on my ice.”
“Well …” Think, Kole! “Simms was provoked—we all heard it. And Asher, technically, didn’t fight. You can’t punish him for taunting, because the other teams do that all the time. Your players need to be ready for it.”
Dad clenches his jaw so tight I can tell he still wants to explode. I don’t doubt for a second that no matter what he decides, he’s going to head into that locker room and tear into both of them. But hopefully they can get out of this unpunished.
“You know I’m right,” I point out.
Dad shakes his head. “They’re both on thin ice.”
“Literally.”
And now Dad’s scowling. How new for him. “If they pull this shit again …” He’s about to say they’ll be off his team, but he hesitates. Maybe Asher’s right that Dad wouldn’t kick him off. He’s undoubtedly the best player, and they need him.
Dad storms off in the direction I’ve come from, and I let out a long breath. I think that means they’re okay? Dad’s intense when it comes to hockey, but he’s logical too.
Coach Dalton doesn’t make a move to follow him. “I can’t believe you did that.”
“What?”
“Stuck up for Asher.” He turns to lean against the wall. “Sometimes I think I’m the only one who’ll fight for him. And I mean the only one because he won’t do it for himself.”
“I’m getting that impression.”
“Is he okay?”
“Yeah, his eye is a bit swollen, but he’ll be fine.”
Coach Dalton sighs. “I don’t know why he has to be such a hothead all the time.”
I’m not so sure Asher is a hothead. Yeah, he gets angry, but it’s more of a calculated burst than an uncontrolled explosion.
“He’s always been like that, but it’s gotten worse since our parents died.”
His words hit me right in the face. “Your parents are dead?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
“He said they weren’t around. I assumed he meant they worked a lot.”
Coach Dalton blinks at the opposite wall. “Normally Asher tells everyone. He shoves it in people’s faces like he’s forcing them to pity us.”
Pity? No. Asher isn’t the type to want pity. Though I’m definitely feeling something similar toward him right now. “Or … like he’s trying to make them hurt the way he is.”
Coach Dalton’s head snaps toward me. “You think that’s it?”
“I have no idea. I barely know Asher.” Though I’m starting to suspect no one does. Considering he’s dealing with school and hockey on top of losing his parents and looking after his siblings … Wait, does that mean that Coach Dalton and Asher are raising those kids?