Page 22 of Break Points and Face Offs

He rolls his eyes, dropping his arms. “That doesn’t count.”

“Why not? I had a schedule, jobs to do, a boss, a salary.”

He starts walking into the library. “Fine. Call it a job if you want.”

“And what do you do at the hockey place?”

He turns and cocks his eyebrow at me again. “The rink?”

“Yes, that.”

“I help maintain the equipment—the sticks and skates and all that stuff.”

“How does one ‘maintain’ a hockey stick?”

He shakes his head. When he smiles, a dimple pops in his cheek. Is this the first time he’s smiled around me? Or just the first time I’ve noticed?

Instead of answering my question, he shoots back with his own.

“Can you skate?”

“Of course I can skate.”

“Why ‘of course?’”

I shrug. “It’s like riding a bike, or skiing.”

He lets out a laugh and a few people look up from their desks. I enjoy the apologetic expression he gets on his face as we make our way to one of the upstairs tables.

“What’s so funny?” I whisper as we unpack our books and laptops.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, William, spit it out.”

“You know my name’s Will, right?”

“What does it say on your birth certificate?”

He opens his mouth, but before he can answer, I continue. “I never understand why people give babies names they have no intention of ever calling them. I mean, if your mother never wanted you to be called William, why didn’t she just make your legal name Will and be done with it?”

“Why does it bother you so much?”

“It’s doesn’t.”

“Doesn’t anyone ever shorten your name?”

“My name is Priestley. What would they shorten it to?”

He gets this evil look in his eye and I regret having spoken.

“Pri? Lee?”

I try to ignore him while I open my notebook to the last page I was writing in.

“No nicknames? Didn’t your frat bros have nicknames for you?”

I’m sure they did, but they knew better than to say them to my face.