21. ARAN

CHAPTER 21

ARAN

I 'm back, baby.

That was all I needed. A safe outlet for my pent-up energy. I can't believe it presented itself in such a casual way. Bless hockey romance book research, am I right? One little kiss, and I'm cured of the curious case of the cranky hormonal haze I've been plagued by since the whole Kelsey mess in January.

Today is shootout practice, and I'm killing it. Twenty-three saves to two goals. I catch an easy shot from one of the JV freshmen and drop the puck back onto the ice.

"You watched the puck," I say, because Coach Green demanded I give advice during the drills. "Next."

The following guy positions himself at center ice and goes from zero to one hundred in the blink of an eye, like this is a breakaway. I crouch a little lower. His stick handling skills are pretty good. They'd fool Edwards.

Not me. I pluck the puck right from the air.

"Dayum, son!"

"Bro, did you see that?"

"Unreal."

Edwards's voice is louder from the opposite net, where he waits for his next attacker. "Why didn't he play like this last week?"

I toss the puck away, and to the slack-jawed JV forward, I say, "You would've scored against our backup goalie."

"Damn you, Rodriguez," comes from the opposite net.

I smile and wipe it off right away, not that anyone had a chance at seeing it through my gigantic mask.

"Next."

Jamal does score on me, which earns him a lot of ooh s and ahh s. Two more JV players try. One of them shoots so wide even he snarls in frustration. The other one has a good slapshot on him, but my knee's faster and sends the puck bouncing away.

The whistle pierces my eardrum, followed by clapping. "All right, everyone. That's good enough for today. Keep this energy up for the next stretch of games."

"Don't forget it's the last one before regionals," Assistant Coach Thomas adds.

"Yes, sir!" the two teams chorus back, even though Varsity is the one that can almost taste the Frozen Four. That is, if I can keep playing like today and don't send everything to the crapper again.

"Now, hit the showers and get some rest. Don't let me catch you in the news tomorrow."

"Yes, sir!"

I hang back as everyone files off the ice. The coaches discuss something among themselves, and freeze up as I skate over. Can't be faulted for thinking it was about me.

I pull my mask off, and Coach Green says, "Rodriguez, good catches today, son."

"Thank you, sir."

Silence.

The two of them exchange a telepathic message. Assistant Coach Thomas nods and says, "I'm gonna go make some notes about today. See you at the office, Glen."

"Catch you later, Jerry." Coach Green folds his arms and chews on his gum with more purpose. "You appear to want to talk. Is this a miracle?"

Not really. But I'm trying to do the right thing, even though it makes me use words, and that alone grates on my nerves.

Sighing, I say, "I've been thinking."

"Uh-oh."

"And I don't think I'm cut out to be the captain."

The C stitched on my jersey over my heart represents a vow I've struggled to keep. A vow I never asked to make. The team voted me captain during boot camp last summer after all the seniors were gone. I said it was a mistake then, and I'm saying it again now.

Coach Green takes off his cap and scratches his head. "Why?"

"Someone like Bracken can give the guys all the encouragement they need easily."

"Son." He snorts. "You do that without even opening your mouth. You look at one guy, then at the goal, and he goes and scores. You give another the same look you have on your face right now, and he shuts up."

"Not Edwards, though," I mumble.

"No, but that's because he's jealous of you. Where is this coming from? I thought you had taken to the role well enough."

I wipe my face with the sleeve of my jersey and grunt. "You saw me last week. I crumbled and brought the whole team down with me. But maybe if I'm not captain?—"

"And you crumble again, the team will follow. Again. You're a natural leader that way, Rodriguez."

I frown.

Coach isn't cowed and plows through. "Listen, I seriously hope you pull your shit together and play like an all-star during every game. But you're still just a kid. You need to learn to deal with failure. Both what that means for you as an individual player and how it affects your team. Because guess what?"

He waits so long to continue that I grumble, "What?"

"It will happen again," he says. "You won't have perfect games every time. Something will happen in your life or during the game itself that will get in your head. And if you want to be in the pros, you have to learn to suck it up, buttercup."

"And you're okay with letting me learn that while being the worst captain this team has ever had?" I ask, grasping at straws.

"I'll deny this if you tell anyone I said this, but you're one of the best captains the Thunder Bolts has ever had."

I frown. "Are you sure?"

"You can think whatever the hell you want." He jerks a thumb toward the walkway. "Are we gonna stand here talking about our feelings forever, or are you gonna hit the showers and let me wrap up for the day?"

"Fine, but don't blow my eardrums off if I screw up again."

"Oh, I will. That's why they pay me the big bucks."

I shake my head and almost smile. I can only admit to myself that I'm relieved he didn't agree to stripping me of the C , even though it's what I'd have done in his place. Being the captain helps me pad up my résumé for the league, especially since I'll have to start as a free agent.

"Dude, you were on fire today," Archie chirps as I drop onto the bench beside him. "Did you get laid or something while you were away?"

I drop my mitts onto the floor and run my hand over my head. The longer hair bristles against the palm of my hand. I wonder if Strawberry liked it.

And just like that, my temperature goes higher than when I was on the receiving end of an hour-long shootout practice. I grunt as I grab the back of my jersey and pull.

"I'll be honest," he keeps saying as if we're having an actual conversation. "I did wonder if what had your panties in a wad was lack of action off the ice."

"Me too," Mark says from a few stalls down. "I haven't seen you with a new girl since Kelsey."

Shit, they're getting too close to the truth.

"Burgers at O'Malley's tonight?" I ask.

Mark pumps a fist. "Aw, yeah."

Naive fool.

But Archie narrows his eyes. Fortunately, since he came to the locker before me, he's done undressing and heads over to the showers. I breathe a little easier when he's gone.

No, I didn't get laid.

After making out with Strawberry, I had to go take a walk around the building and stop at the restroom to wash my face before facing her again. In that time, our study session officially came to an end, and when I returned to the table, she had already begun to pack up.

The glassy eyes and flushed face were gone. Instead, she was back to normal as she said, "So, uh, since we didn't work for more than half of the session, you should put in the system as if the session was canceled, and I'll do the same."

"But then you won't get paid," I said with a frown.

She wrinkled her nose. "Oh my word, Aran. I'm not going to get paid for making out with you. We'll just have to actually work tomorrow, okay?"

She said it so blatantly, without any hint of her previous awkwardness, it was as if she was ready to dismiss the whole thing.

And so was I. Since the moment I let her go, I started racking my brain for what to say to reset things. We both got what we wanted. She got her book inspo. I got my itch kind of scratched. There were no commitments. It was just a reverse-tutoring session.

"See you tomorrow," she said, hanging her full bag on her shoulder.

Grunting, I sat down to continue working. And I did. I finished the whole damn essay while she was gone. And I've stayed buzzing with energy all day.

*

I hit O'Malley's with the guys, and the second I walk in, I pick her out among the crowd.

Strawberry's sitting at a table surrounded by Strikes. She tips her head back to laugh with all her might, revealing a hell of a lot of throat. Because her clothes show a hell of a lot of cleavage. My tongue feels like a useless lump in my mouth as I stare.

I should've licked her throat. I should've committed the taste of her skin to my mind forever. I should've gone south instead of to her ear.

I wonder if I left a hickey on her neck. Her long hair cascades around it. There's no way to find out unless I get real close and personal.

"Rodriguez, move," one of the guys says behind me. "You're blocking the door."

I move away. I'm even able to walk behind the guys as we make our way through the packed place. But I'm not able to tear my eyes away from her. I now realize, like a damn fool, that one little kiss was nowhere near enough. And that the reason I was able to do my coursework, hyper focus in class, and kill it at practice, is because I flared back to life after kissing her.

"Ah, shit," I mutter.

"Don't worry. We got your back," Archie says to me, and I do a double take. Did he read my mind?

"What are you talking about?"

He jerks his head toward the left, away from the table full of Strikes and one Strawberry. I turn in the general direction he pointed and?—

"Ah, shit," I repeat to myself. There's Kelsey. Sitting with Strawberry's former roommates. Because of freaking course.

"It's a shame," Archie whines. "Why are the hot ones always problematic?"

That's not true. Strawberry's not problematic.

I glance over my shoulder, and she's watching me. Not because she spotted me among the crowd like I did, but because Ryan is waving her arms frantically at us. I pat Archie's chest and point at the Strikes' table. And like the best assistant captain, he rallies the troops without me making any effort.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the losers and their loser captain," Ryan says in greeting, squeezing against Strawberry to make room for the four of us.

Archie, being at the front of the group, takes the empty spot beside Strawberry. If I kill him here, people will start talking. Instead, I take the spot right across from her. The smile still lingers on her face, but it dims a little upon spotting me.

Is that good or bad?

Beside me, Jamal says, "Obviously that's the alcohol talking. Or did you forget we won our little friendly last summer?"

"Only by one goal," Christine says with a roll of her eyes.

"Please, we couldn't possibly go full force against a bunch of girls." Archie puts his hand on his chest, and his arm brushes against Strawberry's.

I hide my tight fists under the table.

That's when I notice the girls have gone through at least two rounds of beer. An empty glass sits directly in front of Strawberry, blurring the view to her cleavage. Both a good and a bad thing.

"What's with all the empty glasses?" I ask, having had enough of the banter.

One of the younger Strikes sighs. I don't know her name, but Ryan points at her precisely and says, "Amber here got dumped, so we decided to celebrate our independence from men until you all decided to crash our party."

"Hmm." I hum too low for any of them to hear over the noise.

"Or," Archie says with a shrug, "you could also celebrate your freedom to find a better guy. Am I right, Maddie?" He puts his arm around her shoulders and grins down at her, and she beams that sweet little smile of hers up at him.

"You guys want anything?" a server, appearing out of nowhere, asks beside me.

I thank the heavens for the interruption because I was just about to show my ass.

As everyone voices their orders one by one, Archie's attention shifts away from Strawberry, and he drops his arm. Which officially means he lives to see another day.

Slowly, I start to cool down until I'm back to my iceberg self. Through the table's chatter, I make a silent plan to replace the plan I made after the Kelsey debacle. There's no way I'm canceling our tutoring sessions now. Instead, I'm going to rewrite Step One to something like swearing off girls except for Strawberry's reverse tutoring—and not just on hockey.

As long as Coach never finds out about it, and I keep playing like today, it should work like a charm.