Page 1 of Cross Check

ONE

GRANT

OCTOBER, TEN SEASONS AGO

The frat house smells like cheap alcohol and cigarettes.

I say hello to the guys playing beer pong in the kitchen and head for the living room. It’s quiet tonight, just a few people hanging out and not a whole house party, and I’m glad I’m not walking into a rager. I find a seat on the ripped leather couch under a photo of Doak S. Campbell Stadium next to James Phillips, captain of FSU’s club hockey team and president of Tau Kappa Epsilon, and smile.

“Hey,” I say.

“There you are.” He nudges my shoulder. “You good, man?”

“All good. Just stressed about winter finals.”

“You’re a freshman. You have years to stress about finals.” He turns on the television and leans back, taking a sip of his beer. “Besides. Everyone knows you’re going to the NHL, like, tomorrow.”

“No one is going to draft a club player who grew up in Florida. Canadians come out of the womb playing hockey. I’m not NHL-caliber material.”

“Ten bucks says you’re on a pro team in five years.”

“I appreciate your confidence in me, J.”

“Oh, shit. Speaking of pro sports teams, the ticker down there just said the Orlando Falcons fired their head coach.”

“Aren’t they in the middle of a six-game win streak? That’s bizarre.” I squint at the television and try to find the breaking news alert. “Are you sure you read it right?”

“Of course I read it right. This is my first beer, dude. I’m not seeing things.”

“Hang on. Let me wait for it to come back across the screen.” The broadcast shifts from a pair of commentators to the women’s hockey game they’re covering. “It’s cool that the ladies are getting national attention.”

“Agreed. It’s a great matchup too. Wisconsin versus Ohio State? Those are the places of legends.”

“Holy shit.” My mouth drops open. “Who is that?”

“Who?”

“The coach behind Wisco’s bench. She’s beautiful.”

“Amelia Green,” James says. “Also known as an NCAA icon. The Badgers were undefeated for two years when she was captain. Now she’s an assistant at her alma mater.”

“Fuck.” I rest my elbows on my thighs and watch Amelia talk to one of the girls sitting on the bench. “How old is she?”

“Not sure, but she’s been there since she graduated a couple years ago. It’s only a matter of time before she’s snatched up as head coach somewhere.”

“She clearly knows her shit.” The camera cuts away from the blonde in the red blazer to the face-off circle, and I groan. I want to see more of her. “I’m an asshole for not knowing who she was before tonight.”

“That’s on you, dude. She’s a unicorn.”

“What does that mean?”

“She’s talented as hell with records that speak for themselves.” James nods toward the screen. “She’s also smart.” He sighs. “And goddamn gorgeous.”

“I wish I had a way to meet her.” It’s my turn to sigh. One minute, and I’m infatuated. Ready to drop to my knees and ask if she’s ever been interested in a younger guy. Who cares if I can’t legally drink yet? “Why wasn’t I born earlier? I could’ve gone to college with her.”

“Forget it, G.” James puts a hand on my shoulder. “She’d never give the two of us a second glance. You’re wearing glasses, for fuck’s sake.”

“Because my contacts were hurting my eyes after our weight room session! I’m not a nerd.”