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“Apologies.” He raises his hand, but instead of leaving, he approaches me.
“Brayden,” He nods to him. I notice Brayden’s change in expression, and he quickly adjusts his posture, his eyes widening as he tracks Denny standing by my side. I observe him gulp, and instantly, he resembles the ideal appearance of my students. Intriguing. With a scowl and crossed arms, Denny stands next to me, keeping a close eye on Brayden. It’s interesting to see how Denny’s role as a hockey coach brings out his intimidating side, despite his soft demeanor. It’s evident that Brayden is a hockey player, and Denny strongly disapproves of his players not paying attention in class.
“Brayden, care to explain your presence here?” Denny snaps. I remain silent. I position myself to the side, patiently awaiting Brayden’s words. Glancing at the desk, Brayden’s hand instinctively goes to his neck. He doesn’t make any effort to speak. I give Denny a firm pat on the shoulder with my hand.
“It’s good. During class, he raised a question about the syllabus. I was breaking down the explanation of its meaning for him.” As I observe Brayden, he appears slightly taken back, but still nods in agreement while turning his attention to Denny. To be honest, I’m not sure why I lied. Something in those eyes of his tells me he could use a break.
“Brayden, I hope everything was clear to you. My email is at the bottom of the Syllabus if you have any more questions before the next class.” Which I’m pretty sure he crumpled up and chucked in his bag. The sight of his wide blue eyes stirs up a dull ache in my chest once again. I can no longer bear to make eye contact with him. I gesture toward the door, signaling him to leave, and redirect my attention to Denny.
“Don’t be late to practice.” Denny clicks his finger and points at Brayden.
Without even sparing a second glance, Brayden picks up his bag and exits the classroom after mumbling, “Yes, Coach.”
“He’s a little shit, that one, watch him, and if he gives you lip, tell me,” Denny quips as soon as the classroom door closes. “He’s the one player who could give me gray hair before my time.”
I quickly glance at Denny’s disheveled hair, with hints of gray, which seem to defy gravity in various directions. Possibly because of his habit of tugging on it while coaching. “Don’t say a word,” he grits before I say anything. I burst into laughter, raising my hands simultaneously on either side.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“How did it go today?”
“Uh—”
“Actually, what are you doing tonight? Fancy a couple of beers?” he interrupts before I have a chance to answer. The thought of going out after work doesn’t really excite me, but a pub visit usually entails meeting women. Now, all I can think about is losing myself in someone for the night, which makes me immediately answer Denny.
“Sounds good. Give me a time and location, and I’ll be there.”
He snaps his fingers at me. “You got it, man. I’ll catch up with you later. I’ve got to go get ready for practice,” he says as he runs out of the classroom. I collapse onto my chair, lean back, taking off my glasses, and sigh deeply, soothing my tired eyesand tilting my head. The familiar feeling quickly sinks in as I find myself alone in an empty classroom once more.
Numbness.
Chapter three
Brayden
“Yo.” Kal slumps himself down next to me, already dressed in his gear. Me? I’m behind, as usual. Trayton follows behind him, ruffling my hair and sitting on the other side of me. “Quake,” Tray mumbles around a mouth fall of food. He’s the only guy I know that can eat at any time in the day, whether it’s before practice or right before a game and never feels ill.
“Sup,” I say to both of my closest friends as I lean down and tie my laces up on my skates.
“I bumped into Coach walking toward the classroom. I tried talking to him, hoping you would get out of class before he went in there, but he brushed me off and told me he was in a rush. Sorry, man.” Kal is always attempting to save me. That’s his nature. He’s the brother I wish I had—he always has my back and does everything he can to stop me from getting in shit when it comes to hockey. He knows how much this means to me, andit’s all I have. So why do I keep jeopardizing it? Why do I keep fucking up? I sit up, rubbing my hands down my face.
“Thanks, man. Don’t worry about it. I didn’t get in trouble, anyway.” I slap him on the back before standing up.
Kal stands up next to me. “What?” His brows furrow in confusion as his eyes skate between mine.
“The new teacher didn’t tell on me.” I frown at my own words, staring down at the floor. “He lied and said I waited behind to ask him a question about the syllabus.” Voicing it aloud causes me more confusion. I thought little about it when I left, my head everywhere except where it should be, but now, why did he even lie for me? Maybe he’s new and trying to get on the students’ good side. I don’t have a good side, so I don’t know what he expects from me, but he will be sorely disappointed.
“He seems cool then,” Kal says, before smacking each knee pad with his stick before stalking off to the rink. Smacking my knee pads is something he has always done before a game, but also practice. Everyone has the thing they do before a game. It’s a superstitious thing. It’s well known in hockey, but Kal even feels the need to do it before practice. It can’t be anyone but me, if I’m not here, Kal instantly thinks he won’t be able to play properly. I’m sure it’s his way of making sure I always show up, even on the bad days.
“Anders!” Kal bellows as I jump on the ice, skating toward the team standing in the middle of the rink, listening to their captain. Yep, Kal is the captain, and a fucking good one at that. No one deserves this position more than Kal. He worked his ass for it.
But I know it takes his toll on him, especially being my best friend. He wants to do the best friend duties but also has an image to uphold. No matter how many times I tell him to stop getting me out of shit, he still does, but sometimes he does needto draw the line in front of our teammates and coach. Take today, for example. I’m late.
“You’re putting away all the equipment after practice,” he mumbles. I salute him because I know he hates it.
“Yes, Cap.” His jaw tightens, and he sighs loudly.
“Shut the fuck up and listen.” A small smirk appears as his eyes move from mine and land on the rest of the team.
