“Who told you?” He grins like he knows damn well what he’s doing.
I watch the way he so casually chews on his bottom lip, as if this amuses him. Like he’s got me hooked, line, and sinker. But obviously he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does because instead of taking a step back, I move forward, our chests just a brush away from touching.
His breath hitches in the back of his throat and his eyes widen, surprised that I didn’t do whatever it was he expected me to do.
And I’m about to ask him about it too but my dad decides at this very moment to turn the corner and start heading toward us. My grin grows wider and I do Lucas a favor by taking a step back but because he’s unaware of my dad walking this way, he steps toward me.
“Careful,” I say, barely above a whisper. “Coach might just bench you next season.”
Lucas’s brows draw together, head tilting to the side before darting around like he’s trying to find the answer to why I said what I said. And he finds it rather quickly because the second he spots my dad, his whole body jerks away from mine.
To make sure he knows that I’m fully aware of just how much of an effect I have on him as well, I lightly run the tip of my finger over the inside of his wrist.
I hold back my laughter when Lucas is about to lean into the touch, but my father’s looming presence is too close by so he pulls away, now standing a safe distance from me.
“Hey, Coach.” Lucas clears his throat, my dad now standing in front of us.
Even though he’s taller than my dad in his skates, all that bravado is replaced by the reminder of my father’s rule and the consequences that would ensue if he was ever caught trying to shoot his shot.
Lucas continues, hand going to scratch the back of his neck. “I was just telling Denise and her friends how much we appreciate their support.”
Dad stops right in front of us, his eyes quickly looking over me as if I could’ve possibly received damage from standing next to Lucas. When he apparently has successfully concluded that I haven’t imploded, he looks at Lucas, unimpressed.
“Support my ass,” Dad gruffs. “Why don’t you go find Nole? I need to talk to him.”
Dad leaves no room for questions or discussion and because Lucas has been on the team since freshman year, he’s very much aware of this. But he wouldn’t be Lucas if he didn’t test a little bit of everyone’s patience.
“Do I have to?” He groans. “Because he’s been a little snappy lately and I don’t know if you know this but we share an apartment, Coach. I have to be careful about what I say otherwise I don’t know if I’ll be waking up in the morning.”
Dad crosses his arms, a deadpan, stoic look on his face. “Alright, Callahan. I’ll let you pick. Go find Nole or sit on the sidelines next season.”
Lucas puts his hands up in mock defense. “Alright fine, but just know…” He sighs, resting his hand on his chest, right over his heart. “I’ll miss you guys.”
I roll my eyes to disguise the fact that I’m finding it very hard not to smile. Dad points his thumb behind him, silently telling Lucas to get to it.
Lucas steals a quick glance at me before stepping behind my dad and walking the opposite way. But before he steps throughthe door of the shower room, he blows me a kiss and winks. I flip him off.
By the time Dad turns his head to see what I’m looking at, Lucas is already gone.
I don’t even mean to stare at the spot Lucas was once in but Dad clears his throat, reminding me that he’s standing in front of me, watching me like he’s trying to decode something. And that’s when I realize that I’m smiling but because there’s absolutely nothing for my father to figure out, I direct my smile toward him.
“See?” I link my arm around his, trying to change the subject. “You were stressed for no reason. I knew you guys would win.”
I guide him into his office, the door finally clicking shut behind us. Sarah and Bethany are sprawled out on the couch in the corner of the room, laughing at something on Sarah’s phone.
“Yeah, barely,” Dad scoffs. “I had Nole in the penalty box most of the time for throwing punches instead of playing and Moose couldn’t block a shot to save his life.”
Bethany gasps, her attention quickly pulled from Sarah’s phone. “I’m sure he was trying his best.”
With Dad being all too used to the dramatics of the female mind, he lazily waves at my friends before sitting down at his desk, the chair squeaking slightly as he leans back.
“Bethany,” Dad says. “As soon as you can tell me the difference between a body fake and a side fake, I’ll take your word on Moose’s performance.”
Bethany opens her mouth to speak but she quickly realizes that Dad has a point so she resorts to leaning back on the couch, arms crossed and a pout on her lips.
I chuckle and hop up onto the corner of Dad’s desk, much to his dismay. He doesn’t say anything though, knowing that telling me to get off will just end up in me lying down on his desk.
We’ve played this game before.