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Marcus: Sounds fun.
Beckett: Good luck.
Ash: It’s not true. We’re not together.
Marcus: Still not? Why?
Ash: Because…she’s the fucking Devil.
Marcus: Say less…she can lead me into temptation anytime.
Ash: …
Marcus: j/k. I know. She’s yours to fuck (with). I remember.
Ash: Good.
An hour later and the damage was already done. Everyone on campus had seen the post. Dean Eastwood had liked it, for fuck’s sake. Winter had claimed she could make everyone think we were dating, and I wasn’t surprised she’d pulled it off. My girl was a winner. She didn’t know how to be anything else. I’d be more annoyed if I wasn’t impressed.
As soon as I got to the sports building, Coach Eric called me into his office. My belly dropped. It felt just like when Leonard had called me into his office after the rooftop pot incident.
Holy shit, this is it. First, she got me fired from The Dunes, and now she’s getting me kicked off the Hellions. Forget playing games, I’m going to kill her.
“Asher, take a seat.” Coach Eric pointed to the chair in front of him.
I stopped short when I saw the dean standing just behind the coach. Time felt like it slowed right down for a moment, like the seconds just before an accident, where your life flashes in front of your eyes.
“Yes, Asher, sit. We won’t take too much of your time,” Dean Eastwood said. He was smiling like a maniac at me. Was the man a sadist? Who could look so happy when they were about to dash someone’s hopes and dreams?
“First of all, congratulations on your news. I saw it online. A new campus couple, a power couple, if you will…I thought it was interesting that Charles DeLaurie was so committed to getting you back on the ice, but it all makes sense now.”
“Sorry, what?” I wasn’t keeping up with this conversation, clearly.
“I mean, you and Winter. It’s wonderful news. We can expect Charles and his friends to be attending Hellions games from now on, when they can, of course, they’re busy men…”
“What the dean is trying to tell you that you’re off the bench, as of now, if you’re up for it.”
My heart skipped a beat. I could only stare at them.
“Charles DeLaurie pulled a few strings in the federation admin, and they’re waiving the restriction for the remaining time…You can get back out there.”
I couldn’t process what Coach had just said. He and Dean Eastwood started talking about the VIP boxes as I zoned out. I was getting back out on the ice?
“So, Asher? Are you playing tonight or not?”
“Yes, Coach, I absolutely am,” I confirmed, standing and shouldering my bag.
“It might be rough on you…you’ve been out of commission for a bit,” Coach warned.
I shook my head. “That’s fine. I don’t care if it hurts. I just want to get out there.”
Coach grinned. “That’s the spirit. Go raise hell, son.”
Winter
After taking the incriminating selfie and posting it, I went to my parents’ house, packed a suitcase with clothes, then headed back to campus to work on a photography assignment. All the running back and forth between campus and my parents’ house to restock my wardrobe, then back again, was taking its toll on my homework assignments. Yet another thing Asher Martino was costing me was my grade point average, along with my sanity.
When my phone vibrated beside me, I ignored it. Working on my photography assignment was absorbing, and I didn’t want to read all the notifications from the post. The knowledge that somewhere on campus, Asher knew what I’d done and was probably planning some terrifying retribution, made me feel all kinds of odd things. Not all of them were bad.
