Page 105 of Pucking Bad Boys

I don’t even know why I’m here. Ok, that isn’t true.

Being the new guy on the team, it’s important to hang out with my teammates to get to know them better.

But that isn’t true either.

I’m here because I’m a fucking masochist. Seeing Talia and Mack together sucks more than anything in the world, and yet I can’t take my eyes off them.

Every time he kisses her, it feels like being hit in the teeth by a slapshot, but my stupid heart doesn’t want to get the hint.

There’s a part of me, the idiot part, that feels like I still have a shot with my brother’s girlfriend.

I’ve been repeating to myself that Talia was cheering for me like she would cheer for any other Cove Knight. And if I knew what’s good for me, I’d stop staring at them like a creep and go home.

Not living in the Gamma House is the only silver lining to this shitshow. I’ve never been so glad that I didn’t cave under the peer pressure of all my teammates who have been pestering me to pledge.

Tucker even promised me a room in the house if I decide to go for it.

No fucking way.

At least like this, I can go home when I feel like I’ve shown my face long enough or when I can’t take any more of the Mack and Talia show. Whichever comes first.

Thinking about silver linings, maybe there’s a second one. Gen isn’t here either. She’s been texting me all week, insisting on trying to sell me the idea of us as a power couple.

Her idea that having her on my arm would raise my profile and get me more media attention, and consequently more street cred with prospective NHL teams, sounds too farfetched to be true.

And even if it were, that isn’t the way I want to be signed.

In the twenty years I’ve been alive, I should have learned one thing. Don’t ever speak too soon. If you do, the universe will bend you over and have its dirty way with you without one drop of lube in sight.

I should have known better than to feel relieved about Gen’s absence.

“Is this a party or a funeral?” She walks into the basement of the frat house like she owns the place. And she isn’t alone;my former Bridgeport teammate Nigel Worthing is following her like a lovesick puppy.

Maybe I should warn him that Gen is like a double-edged sword. Even when she’s nice to you, you better watch for her sharp edges.

But then again, the guy’s an adult and a bit of a douche too. So I’ll stay out of it and let him figure it out on his own.

“If you want a party,” Mack bites out. “You should go back where you came from. Or did you miss half the school upstairs in the living room and out in the backyard?”

“I saw them. What I don’t get is why you guys are all down here. You wiped the ice with Seattle. Everyone wants to celebrate your victory.”

“Yeah, but people were getting too rowdy, and they were scaring Baety, so I came downstairs and these fuckers all followed me.” Tucker pets the duck he’s been holding in his arms the whole time.

Gen looks at the duck with a disgusted expression on her face. “Ew, gross. I’ll never understand why you keep that smelly animal around. You know the first home game of the season is one of the biggest parties of the year, and you’re missing it. Just lock that thing in your room and go join the party.”

Our goalie shakes his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this,” he bites out. “But I’m over the noise and the sweaty bodies that reek of cheap booze. You guys enjoy the party. Colsen and Nash were taking Taryn to the movies. I think Baety and I might join them.”

“Are you taking your duck to the movie theater?” Gen sounds more disgusted with every passing second.

“Yeah. The owner and my old man go way back. He won’t care as long as Baety behaves.”

The second Tucker leaves the room, Gen turns to look at all of us. Aside from a couple of freshmen, most of the team is down here.

“If you guys insist on being antisocial, at least let’s play a game.”

Everyone agrees, and I think this might be my cue to go home. “I’m tired.” I announce.

“Oh, come on, Beavis.” Heston slaps me on the back. “For once in her life, Gen is right. This isn’t a funeral and you aren’t my eighty-year-old great-grandpa. Stay for at least one game.”