8. Asher

I push off the wall and skate like the devil, pumping my arms and gaining as much speed as quickly as I can. Reaching the end, I do a slide and spin in the opposite direction, hauling ass back to the other end of the rink.

It’s tiring work, but I don’t give a shit right now. I need to burn off steam, build up a sweat—anything to get rid of this angst that’s eating me like a fucking parasite.

I’ve got a lot of shit going on right now.

The Lennox party ended up being a bust. I got there just in time to see Harvey disappearing down the hallway with a honey tucked under his arm. He said a brief “Hi,” then pointed at the girl and mouthed, “Sorry, man!”

Lucky bastard. I didn’t see him again, and about an hour later, after one beer and some chick’s tongue down my throat, I ended up leaving. I couldn’t help comparing the make-out session with Lani’s searing kiss, and it made it impossible to take things further.

By the time I got home, I was fuming, and even choking the chicken in front of some decent porn didn’t do the trick.

I’ve been restless ever since.

And it doesn’t help that I can’t find any peace in my own fucking house either.

That stupid puppy doesn’t know the meaning of the word silence—I’m serious about that one. If he’s not yapping, he’s snoring in his sleep or making these weird little sounds like he’s dreaming.

It doesn’t seem to bother anyone but me.

Sure, he’s cute. I get it. Puppies are adorable.

But they’re not so great when they’re peeing on the couch or leaving little stink nuggets in the corner of the kitchen. I nearly stepped on one the other day—and I was in bare feet!

Casey laughed so hard he nearly peed his pants.

It’s been less than a day and I’m already over it.

And I’m still worried what Uncle Hayes and Aunt Carla will say if they ever find out. I checked the rental contract last night, and it stipulates that pets are allowed with permission from the owners… which we haven’t gotten yet. So yeah, that’s gonna be awesome.

Casey says it’s easier to ask for forgiveness than permission, but does he get that we could get kicked out of our lush, six-bedroom house if we don’t show some respect? We’re living there for free while we’re studying. Does he not get how fucking amazing that is?

My aunt and uncle could be making bank on that place, but they’re helping us out because they’re good people, and I don’t want to take advantage of their generosity.

I should probably just call them and let them know about the puppy, but if they tell me “no pets,” then what the fuck am I supposed to do?

It’s not like I can kick Casey out. He’s one of my best friends.

I don’t know what I’d do without the Hockey House bros. Sure, I rub them up the wrong way sometimes. They think I’m an arrogant, rich asshole when I say oblivious shit. I don’t know what it was like to grow up without everything at my fingertips. That’s not actually my fault. I try to understand where they’re coming from, but sometimes shit slips out… and I always hate myself when it does. I don’t want them seeing me this way, but part of me wonders if it wasn’t for Hockey House whether any of them would truly be my friends. Do they just put up with me because I provide free accommodation?

The thought blackens my mood even further, and I skate a little harder until one of the assistant coaches wanders into the arena and barks at me to call it quits.

“Don’t go killing yourself during the offseason, man.” He leans against the boards and gives me a grin.

I skate over to him and run a hand through my sweaty hair.

“What’s eating you?” He lightly nudges my shoulder. “You only skate this hard when you’re pissed about something.”

“Nothin’,” I mutter.

“Well, if you need to chat, you know where my office is.” His backhand slap on my arm is friendly, and I force a smile before he walks away, obviously content with his little check-in.

Jumping over the boards, I slump down on the seat and start unlacing my skates. I’m the only guy here at the moment. Mr. Zamboni will start smoothing out the ice soon, and unlacing here gives me a few extra minutes to avoid the guys.

They’re all showering up in the locker room, no doubt making plans for tonight, talking about their girlfriends and shit. Connor and Riley will be jumping in with their latest hot dates, and I’ll be standing there seething, because the hottest date I had recently hates my guts.

I don’t want to admit that to anyone.

What I really want to do is freeze her out of my brain and move the fuck on, but do you think I can forget that kiss? Her smile? How smart she is? The fact that she’s a Ravenclaw goddess who’s put a fucking spell on me?

Kicking off my boots with a growl, I snatch them up and pad back to the locker room.

Steam is billowing out of the shower stalls as I walk past and dump my stuff next to my locker.

“What took you so long?” Casey asks once his head’s popped through his shirt.

“Doing some extra skating,” I mutter.

“Why?”

“Because I felt like it!”

He gives me an odd look, then narrows his eyes at me. “Is this about the puppy? You’re still pissed, aren’t you? Dude, seriously, get over it. I’m gonna train that thing until he’s the best-behaved dog on the block, I swear.”

I close my eyes, shaking my head and wishing it was just about the puppy.

“I had a dog growing up,” Baxter interjects. “I can help train the little guy.”

“Thank you.” Casey points at him but keeps his eyes on me. “See? It’s all gonna be good.”

“It takes a while, though. You’re gonna have to be consistent and firm. Dogs thrive on routine.” Baxter keeps going, droning on about all he knows and making Casey squirm when the man-child idiot starts to realize how much work this is gonna be.

“It’ll be great to get your help, Bax. Thanks!” Casey cuts him off, probably putting himself in a bad mood as he thinks about how this is gonna change his life.

That idiot never looks beyond the next fucking hour.

“I’ve got your back, bro.” Baxter gives him a rare grin, then goes quiet. He’s spoken more words in the last three minutes than he probably has all day. I’m guessing he’s now exhausted.

I roll my eyes and turn back to my locker, stripping off my sweaty gear and heading for the showers.

Taking my time, I soak under the hot spray until I’m just starting to relax.

“Come on, rich boy! Hurry it up!” Casey shouts from the doorway.

I close my eyes, gritting my teeth against any kind of comeback. I hate it when they call me rich boy. They only do it when they think I’m acting rich. I didn’t realize taking a long shower after a shitty day was a rich thing to do, but Casey obviously does.

Grabbing my towel, I stalk out of the shower, drying off quickly and hurrying to get dressed while Casey and Liam stand there chatting. I tune out their conversation, my mind wandering back to… yep, you guessed it… freakin’ Lani!

“Just heard from Mick.” Ethan slips his phone into his back pocket as he walks past me. “She and Caroline are going to Offside for dinner before we all head home to hit the books. You guys in?”

I glance over my shoulder as Liam responds. “Nah, man. Rachel’s at the diner tonight. Think I’ll go eat there and study until she’s done.”

“Cool.” Ethan points to Casey. “You? Or have you got doggy duties?”

Casey’s smile fades, his shoulders slumping. “Shit. The dog.”

“Got you covered, man.” Baxter walks past him, slapping him on the shoulder with a grin. He looks pretty damn excited.

“Seriously?” Casey perks up instantly.

“Of course. I’d much rather hang with a cute puppy than a bunch of weirdos at a sports bar.”

“You think we’re weird?” I mutter under my breath. Baxter’s our team goalie, and I swear he was a hermit crab in a past life.

He seems to be allergic to people and normal conversation. Sure, he shuffles out for dinner sometimes—mostly on the nights Rachel cooks—but he barely says a word. As soon as he’s done eating, he disappears back to his room. Most days, he’s holed up in there, happy with his own company. I don’t know what the hell he does with his time, but the guy’s an introvert to the extreme.

But he obviously loves animals, and Fezzik’s got him voluntarily starting conversations and offering to help out.

Grinning like he just won the lottery while Baxter heads out the door, Casey turns to me. “You comin’?”

I nearly say no, but do I honestly feel like going back to Hockey House right now? My brain needs food before studying, and although I could go hang in the Athlete’s Hall and get a decent meal, the thought of my bros all having fun at Offside without me is too much.

So I say yes.

Because what the hell. A beer and some pizza will hit the spot. I can hang with my crew, flirt with a puck bunny or two. Shit, I might even get laid, and that’ll help me relax enough to hit the books when I get home.

It also might have the added effect of tricking my brain into forgetting about a certain Hawaiian beauty with the lips of an angel and the tongue of a sorceress.