“You think I should skate naked to really get those sex appeal points?”
Alex gasps, her brows furrowing. “You willnotput that costume to waste.”
“You don’t think the skirt is too much?”
“No! Okay…” She shrugs. “It might be a bit much forsomejudges, but fuck those guys. I think you should debut this program at the Grand Prix to make them stew.”
I chuckle. “I’ll see what Maude says, if she thinks we’re ready.” I notice the time and curse under my breath. “I gotta run, need to finish up some early work for my math class.”
“You mean late work?”
“No,” I sigh, grabbing my backpack. “The Grand Prix is right before finals, so I have to try and get some stuff in early so I’m not playing catch upandstudying.” I rummage around, looking for the notebook I’d been using back at the rink.
Alex sounds distant, “Do you think it’s worth it?”
I don’t look up from my bag. “Worth what?”
“Like… I dunno. What’s more important, getting a good education or winning gold medals?”
I pause my search. Obviously education has more utility than quad toe loops. So why do I want a gold medal more than I want to make the Dean’s List? I enjoy skating more than I enjoy schoolwork. I’d trade my favorite English class for more time at the rink any day. Plus hundreds of people make Dean’s List. There’s only one Grand Prix winner each year.
“Kinda a weird question coming from someone not in school right now.” I muse, more annoyed I still haven’t found my notebook than her question.
“I’m figuring it out, okay?” she snaps at me. Which is fair enough.
“You will. You’re more worldly than most college students. And more disciplined. And way wittier.” When I look back at my phone, Alex is glancing down at something out of frame. If she’s looking at anything at all. “I’ll call you later, okay?”
She hangs up.
I dump my backpack onto my bed, confirming what I’d already suspected. My damn notebook is back at the rink. I don’t bother shoving everything back into my bag. I bike to the rink. As soon as I slot my bike into the rack, I get a text.
You left your notebook in the stands. I have it in my office.
God he really is an angel—I could kiss him. If Bekken isn’t still hanging around… Except that would break the rules I insisted we have. I head up to Christos’ office and, sure enough, Bekken can be heard through the office door.
“I gotta commend you man. I’d rather play for some backwoods three-on-three team than coach college hockey.”
“That’s cause you’re only as good as your worst defenseman, Jonas. You’d get eaten alive on a three-man team.”
The door is only a few feet away, but I take my sweet time, practically tiptoeing over.
“Hey, I did pretty good as a rookie withyouon my team. But seriously man, why’d you retire?”
Christos deadpans, “I’m thirty-five.”
“There are NHL players having some of their best years after thirty-five!”
“You’re just saying that because you’re also thirty-five—and I make more here than I did playing for the EHL.”
That sounds like a bullshit reason, and if I can hear it, so can Bekken. But he lets up. “Still, theworstteam in the college league.”
Christos laughs. “It’s not like we can get any worse. Besides, we’re already doing better than last season. Can’t deny that makes me look good.”
“What happened to liking a challenge?”
“Can’t it be both?”
Bekken cackles. “You’re the worst, man. Maybe that’s why your guys fight like teenage girls at prom.”