Page 46 of Half Truths (Secret Society 1)
The Mighty Ducks were all the rage when we were little, so of course, my brother wanted to play. Hell, I wanted to play, but no one would hear of it. They wanted me to remain unscathed and unblemished—a little porcelain doll to place on a shelf. I put my hand on the glass and looked across, scouting what angle I could take good pictures from. It wasn’t like the coaches were going to let me go on the ice with them for some pictures for the school paper. I spotted an opening at the player’s bench, and headed in that direction, listening to the way they shaved the ice each time they came to a stop.
Once there, I took my camera out and started snapping pictures. In my lens, I could see Logan and Nolan skating side by side. All of the players had the same rhythm, the same momentum, as if this was a synchronized dance they could do in their sleep. When the music switched up, they started different power skating drills, working on their edges and speed. The level of skills was high pace and amazing to watch. If they did this instead of play actual games, I would probably be just as entertained. The song was almost over when the coaches came out onto the ice and they all huddled around as they were talking.
I snapped pictures as they huddled together, blocked shots, and threw each other into the boards. When I felt like I had enough images, I just sat and watched them practice. I glanced at my watch, realizing that if I wanted to go to the library to look at the newspaper archives, I would need to leave soon. I couldn’t make myself get up though. I was too enthralled in the music and the way they moved out there. Before I knew it, the practice was over. The music stopped, the guys and coaches got off the ice, and I was left by myself in the desolate rink. I googled to see if I could walk to campus from here, and upon finding out it would take me way too long, I decided on an Uber. I stood, grabbed my things, and started walking out.
“Did you get any good pictures of me?”
I jumped up, dropping my phone and everything else in my hands as I turned around to find Nolan standing behind me. My hand flew to my chest. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“You shouldn’t be staring at your phone when you’re walking alone.” He raised an eyebrow. He was no longer in his gear, but wearing a t-shirt and sweats. His hair was wet, with what I assumed was sweat. He kneeled down and gathered my things for me, handing them back. His eyes zoned in on the cards from the secret society that I’d tucked into the little pocket behind my cell phone, but he didn’t comment as I took them from his hand. “Did you take any good pictures?”
“I think so. I hope you’re not offended by this, but after a while, I couldn’t tell you guys apart out there. Most of you have the long Viking hair thing going.”
“Impossible.” He chuckled. “I’m always the hottest.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re that confident in yourself.”
“I don’t like how unimpressed you are with me.”
I laughed. He didn’t. “You’re serious.”
“I am serious.” He frowned. “Normally, girls are totally all over me by now. You like Fitz? Is that it?”
“What? No,” I answered quickly, wondering if Logan had said anything to him. “Why would you think that?”
“You left the party together the other night.”
“Are you spying on me?” I raised an eyebrow. “Or Logan?”
“Logan.” He smiled, saying the name as if it was foreign. “I bet he likes that you don’t call him Fitz like the other ones.”
“You mean his harem?”
“Sure.” Nolan chuckled, then winked. “Nolan and Logan sound similar, if you want to try me out instead. I won’t be mad if you get our names mixed up when we’re fucking, you know.”
“Oh my God. Seriously?” I balked. “Is it so crazy to believe that I don’t want either of you?”
“You mean after the test run?”
“I meant before the test run.” I laughed at the confusion on his face. Obviously, he wasn’t used to being turned down.
“Your loss then.” He ran a hand through his long hair with a shrug.
It slicked back with his sweat. My nose scrunched. Some women loved sweaty athletes, but I’d guess they hadn’t grown up with the stench of dirty hockey gear or dated a messy college basketball player.
“I thought you didn’t like hockey.” He nodded at the hat on my head. I’d worn it because my hair was a mess after my nap and I didn’t want to bother trying to fix it.
“I don’t, but The Mighty Ducks is iconic.”
