Darkroom: A Moo U Hockey Romance by Kate Willoughby (reading a book .txt) 📕

When I didn’t honor that dickhead comment with a reply, he said, “I hope so, since you sure didn’t score on the ice tonight.”

The whole table oohed.

“First of all,” I said, “don’t talk about her like that. Do it again and you’ll regret it.”

That got another round of oohs.

“Second, fuck you. At least I was taking shots. You scored the game winning goal but most of the shots on goal tonight were mine. Let’s take a tally at the end of the season and see who’s on top.”

I realized too late that my tone had gotten sharp and defensive.

“Shit, Forts. Can’t you take a joke?” Adler asked.

“Yeah, we won tonight, so let’s celebrate,” Thomas said, lifting his beer stein.

I didn’t answer as our food arrived and the ladies returned.

Still feeling touchy, I grabbed a chicken wing and even though I knew they were way too hot to eat yet, I took a bite anyway and burned myself.

“Damn it.”

“What?” Indi asked.

“It’s too hot,” I complained, waving a hand at the wing.

“Want me to blow on it?” Indi asked with a teasing smile.

Ruby giggled and after a glance at Indi, AJ hooted a laugh.

I knew she was just flirting, but my brain supplied me with an image of Indi, gazing up at me, her gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock, which was a huge mistake, considering that I was in the middle of the bar with my teammates all around. If one of them noticed, no doubt he’d attribute my aroused state to the wings and dub me Chicken Bone for the rest of the season.

But at least it pulled me out of my sour mood.

The rest of the evening was fun and thankfully, no one else teased me about the missed goal. Honestly, I didn’t blame them. A five-year-old could have made that shot, and looking back, I should have taken Kurly’s chirp in stride. I could take a joke. I really could. I was usually the first one to make a self-deprecating remark. I chalked it up to having thrown up my pregame meal and needing some body fuel.

As AJ, the girls and I got up to go, I swallowed my pride and offered Kurlander my hand. “Great goal tonight, man.”

Kurlander nodded. “Thanks.”

“See all you bastards tomorrow,” I said.

It was chilly outside, cold enough to see our breath. The campus was quiet except for the muted music and voices coming from the Biscuit.

“Oh, it’s such a beautiful night,” Indi said, looking up. “Look at all the stars.”

I obediently gazed up. Thousands of points of light decorated a black velvet sky. One lacy cloud drifted across the view like a slow-motion spray of snow from a skidding skate blade.

“I feel like walking,” she said. “Will you walk me home?”

Carter Hall was only a five-minute walk from the Biscuit.

I glanced at AJ who shrugged. “Wanna walk?” he asked Ruby.

“Not really. It’s too cold.”

“Okay,” I said. I tossed AJ the keys to the Wrangler. “You drive Ruby back and I’ll meet you at home.”

“Cool.”

My arm around Indi’s shoulders, we ambled down the walkway toward their dorm as AJ and Ruby headed toward the rink lot where I was parked.

“Did you have fun?” I asked.

“Yes, but I don’t think you did.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked as my phone rang. “I had fun.”

“Really? Because I got the feeling like something was bothering you.” She gave me a sidelong glance. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

I pulled my phone out of my pocket, afraid it was Adam Kee calling me out on that missed goal. It wasn’t.

“It’s just my dad.”

“That’s so sweet. He probably wants to congratulate you.”

“Not exactly. Now that he’s retired, whenever he can, he tries to stream the games live. That way he can give me pointers as soon as possible, after the fact.”

She stopped. “Wait, really? He really calls after every game just to critique you?”

“He believes there’s a prime window of opportunity between execution and critique and that the sooner he talks to me, the better it will sink in. Personally, I don’t think it works that way, but he’s my dad, so I just grin and bear it. It really is helpful though. He’s an amazing hockey player. People say he’ll probably make it into the Hall of Fame.”

“Wow. That’s impressive.”

“It really is. But even so, I’m not going to interrupt our date just so he can tell me everything I did wrong.”

“Good choice,” she said, taking my hand and starting toward her dorm again. “So, was that why you looked tense back there at dinner? You were expecting your dad’s call?”

“I looked tense?”

She nodded and rubbed the spot between her eyebrows. “You had a tiny little line here most of the time.”

“Dad’s call doesn’t bother me that much. I’m used to that. I didn’t like how I played.”

“Really? I thought you looked really great out there.”

“That’s because you know almost nothing about hockey,” I said, squeezing her hand. “Take my word for it. My performance tonight was a ridiculous string of mistakes and miscalculations. I’d list them all for you, but I don’t want to bore you.”

“I wouldn’t be bored, honestly, but I also don’t want to encourage you to beat yourself up any more than you already have, especially when your dad is already waiting in line to do that.” She snuggled closer.

“He’s not the only one.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m under a lot of pressure. A lot of people are expecting great things from me.” I laughed humorlessly. “It’s been like that almost my whole life.”

I told her how, when I was a kid, the expectations from my family didn’t really register on my radar. Hockey was something I did for fun. And because I was good at it, I didn’t really have to practice that hard. My innate skill allowed me to skate circles around almost everyone.

But as I grew older, things got more serious. I still had fun in middle school, but practice wasn’t just