Page 10 of Within Striking Distance
People come over to congratulate us, and I relax as we talk about the game. I scoot my stool over to make room when Emily joins us, still struggling to meet her eyes after last weekend. Everett pulls her onto his lap, nuzzling into her neck. She’s been over a couple of times this week, but thankfully she kept her clothes on outside of his bedroom.
“Here’s hoping all the games are that easy,” Kristof shouts over the chaos, and the table lets out a collective groan.
Griffin smacks him over the back of the head. “Way to jinx the rest of the season, dickhead.”
“There goes our chance at back-to-back-to-back,” Galdeen adds, draining the rest of his beer.
Jasper Kale, our left wing, snorts at his housemate. “No one’s ever won back-to-back-to-back.”
“Well, it’s not going to happen now.” Galdeen shoots a glare at Kristof, who looks sufficiently chastened.
“Not with that attitude it won’t,” Noah says with a shake of his head. “If we work hard enough, anything can happen. Look at this time last year. No one would’vethought we’d do it the way we played our first four games of the season.”
Zac Kincaid wraps his arm around his boyfriend’s waist and rests his chin on his shoulder. “Let’s be honest, babe. We all know why we lost those games last season, and it had nothing to do with the team.” He arches a brow with a smirk, and our captain actually blushes.
That pang in my chest rears its ugly head again, but I quickly push it down. I’m happy for my teammates, but I don’t want what they have. I can’t let myself crave that type of connection with someone. It’s too dangerous.
A group of Banshees approach the table.
One of them is shoved towards me by her friends. She stumbles, and I reach out on reflex to catch her before she falls.
“Great game tonight, Blake,” the petite brunette says with a shy smile when I release her arm. She has the number ten painted on her cheeks in silver.
I rub the back of my neck. “Thanks, uh…?”
“Abigail,” she supplies, her cheeks blushing red.
“Abigail,” I repeat, ignoring the suggestive waggle of Everett’s eyebrows behind her. He’s clearly noticed my number on the back of her Beckford U jersey.
“Four goals in a game is impressive.”
“Thanks.”
She bites her lip and looks at me through her lashes. “Would you be interested in a game of pool?”
I take a sip of my beer, considering her request. She’s pretty, with warm caramel eyes and a smattering of freckles across her nose, but I can’t muster up any form ofattraction. I’m about to turn her down when Everett butts in.
“How about a game of doubles? Me and Em versus you two?”
Abigail’s face lights up. “Sure.”
All three of them look at me, and I mask my irritation. There’s no getting out of this without looking like a grumpy arsehole.
“Why not.”
We weave our way through the crowd to the group of pool tables out the back, and Everett gets another round of drinks while we wait for a game to finish. Emily and Abigail engage in polite conversation about school, but I zone out until Everett’s girlfriend elbows me in the ribs, and I realise Abigail asked me a question.
“Sorry, what?”
Uncertainty flashes in her eyes, but she pastes on a smile and repeats, “What are you studying?”
“Paramedicine.”
“Wow, athletic and a lifesaver,” she teases.
“I’m far from a lifesaver,” I say gruffly.
Emily shoots me a look that I interpret as her telling me to stop being an arsehole, but before I can say anything else, Everett arrives with a tray of shots and what looks like a round of vodka, lime, and sodas. He probably figures if he gets me drunk, I might loosen up and have some fun.
