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“I mean I know we didn’t get to talk as much as I would have liked at the crawl but–”
“Let's just focus on the project, okay?"
“Sure.” Shane nods, a hint of disappointment in his gaze. “I’ll see you at the meeting."
“Cool.”
I hurry out of the auditorium, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. I've wanted to see Shane ever since the crawl. I would scan campus, hoping to run into him casually and somehow strike up a conversation. But now that I’m seeing therealhim and we're thrust into a situation that requires collaboration, I’m not too sure how I’m going to handle the next twelve weeks which is why I spend the next twelve hours trying to figure out a way to get out of it.
shane
Hockey practiceat the collegiate level is nothing like it was in high school. Back then I ran the drills and could practically do them in my sleep, but here it’s hard as fuck and by the end of every training, I’m exhausted. While I know I’ve got as much, if not more, talent than most of the guys on the team, for some reason, I have the need to prove myself at every practice. My mother says I’ve got a case of imposter syndrome, which is something I think she read about in one of her self-development books. She described it as me not really believing that I deserve to be in the position I am.
“What are you about to do?” Neo asks.
“Get in the shower and pretend the last four hours didn’t happen.”
“You need a massage.”
“Do you have massage money?”
“No, but you would have it if you hadn’t spent half your stipend trying to act like a baller at the bar crawl last month.”
“I wasn’t acting,” I guffaw. “Plus, I’ll get that all back when I land my first NIL deal.”
“Stop daydreaming, pretty boy. What were you trying to prove by buying that girl all those damn shots? You know we don’t get deals like the football and basketball players do,” he says. “Even those baseball knobs get more than we do.“
“Her friends left her hanging at the bar, and she didn’t have enough money to cover it.”
“Why is she buying drinks she can’t afford?”
“That wasn’t the situation. She had a credit card, but she needed my help getting the bartender’s attention, so I volunteered to do it. You know the best way to get quick service is to flash a little cash.”
Neo gives me a look as if he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.
“What?” I protest.
“Shane, you’re entirely too pretty, and it’s way too early in the season to cuff some girl.”
“Call hersomegirl again, and I’ll two-piece you in the mouth,” I threaten. “I prefer to have my fights on the ice, but I’m not afraid to dole out a needed correction off of it.”
“See what I mean?” Neo lets out a heavy belly laugh. “You met her a few weeks ago, and this girl already has you out here threatening your teammates? What the hell will you do when you actually fuck her?”
"I'll cross that bridge when I get to it," I retort, shaking off my sweaty equipment and padding towards the showers. The thought of ever being lucky enough to taste any part of Kennedy makes me need a cold shower.
“What is it about her?” he asks, walking behind me.
“Hell, if I know,” I mutter under my breath. I don’t even think she likes me.
As I walk toward the showers, the chill of the locker room's tiled floor seeps into my feet, a stark contrast to the ice rink's cold bite. The scent of sweat and disinfectant lingers in the air as I reach the showers. Steam clouds my vision as I turn on the hot faucet, the water pounding against my sore muscles like a welcome assault.
“Tell me her actual name so I don’t get beat up if I saythat girlagain,” Neo shouts with amusement over the shower noise as he steps into the stall next to mine.
“Kennedy.”
“The cute blasian girl? Oh, yeah, I think I heard about her.”
“Heard what?” I bite back.
