Face Offs & Cheap Shots (CU Hockey Book 2)
Face Offs & Cheap Shots: Chapter 2

I don’t know what Christopher Jacobs has against me, and I wish I could say that I care, but I don’t. I actually like the way he’s salty with me. Probably more than I should.

Caring is for adults, and until I walk across that stage in a gown and stupid hat, I will not consider myself to be an adult. Or mature. Or really all that responsible.

That’s for future me to deal with and present me to flip off.

Honestly, I was surprised the coaches even considered me for captain. I thought for sure Jacobs would have it in the bag. He and Foster Grant have been tight forever. It makes sense for Jacobs to take the spot.

Having said that, no way am I backing away from it. This is my last year for glory. My last year of freedom. If I can go out on top, I’m gonna take it.

It also helps that I’ll be spending my last summer playing a game I love and am nowhere near ready to give up. Jacobs might have been right about my summer plans. I was all set to fly to Greece to spend the break on my parents’ yacht. Sounds glamorous, but it’s fucking boring. Everything seems to bore me lately. The thought of partying it up with my younger sister in the clubs in Greece doesn’t hold the appeal it used to.

As the clock winds down on my adolescence, the more action and excitement I crave. Adrenaline. Testosterone. Hockey.

Helping out with training camp this year was the perfect excuse to get out of Dad constantly reminding me my time to do stupid shit is running out. Whenever I come home hungover or with a one-night stand or he has to bail me out of jail—which has only happened once—he taps his watch. “Time for this foolishness is running out, son.”

So, yeah, this summer will be awesome. Getting to torment Jacobs is a bonus.

The challenge in his eyes over this captain thing sent a jolt of adrenaline through me, and I haven’t felt that high in a while.

This is going to be fun.

Campus is practically empty as I head for the rink for the first day of camp. There are a few summer programs the school runs, but it’s an eerie ghost town without the full student body present.

Everybody else is going home or on vacations, and we’re going to be stuck inside the arena or weight room six days a week for the next seven weeks.

I never thought that would be so appealing.

I swipe my key card at the school arena and go straight to the locker room. I’m a few minutes late, and of course, Jacobs doesn’t let that fly.

“Captains should be the first to arrive and last to leave.” He’s clearly reshaved the sides of his head right before camp, leaving his trademark length on top. Between that and his attitude, I swear nothing ever changes with this guy.

“Thanks for the tip. I’ll remember that for when I’m captain next season.”

The rest of the guys let out hollers and “Ooohs.”

We have a twenty-five-man roster, but only twelve of us stay to help out over the summer. We take the high school kids through training drills and help build their skills while the coaches scout for who looks like a promising future mountain lion.

I go to my usual cubby and start to undress so I can suit up.

I’m surprised Jacobs doesn’t have a retort. He might not, but Cohen does.

He’s next to me, and he steps close while he takes his shirt off.

“Personal space, much?”

“Just so you know, I’m team Jacobs.”

“I’m team Edward.”

Cohen rolls his eyes. “Twilight references? Really?”

“I have a sister.”

“Mmhmm, sure.”

“You got a point, Cohen?”

“Yeah. Even though my vote is gonna be for him, I thought I’d give you a heads-up. He’s already campaigning for it. If he gets every vote from the summer camp guys, he’ll win majority easy once the semester starts. You might want to pull your weight.”

“That sounds like a challenge.”

“Do you even want it?”

I lose my amusement in this conversation. “I would’ve turned it down if I didn’t want it.”

“Well, you’re gonna have to work for it. That’s all I’m saying.”

I’m not afraid of hard work, but considering this whole thing involves winning over my teammates—my friends—I’d say I won’t have to work as hard as Cohen thinks.

Jacobs is driven and great at hockey, but he’s not exactly friendly. He hung off Grant for three years, popular by proximity, and now Grant’s graduated and moving on, Jacobs is on his own.

If anyone can put on a smile and sway someone’s vote, it’s me.

I reach for my practice jersey, but Cohen stops me.

“We have to wear game uniform the first day. Coach likes us to be intimidating.”

Of course he does.

It’s all about the mind games when it comes to hockey.

Once we’re all ready to go, we wait for the assistant coach to come get us to make an entrance.

And yep, as soon as we hit the ice, all the kids’ eyes widen. All forty pairs. Out of all of them sitting there, a quarter will be given scholarships to wear a mountain lion’s jersey in a year’s time. The odds aren’t good, but even being accepted into this camp is an accomplishment. I never came to one here at CU. My parents sent me to the most expensive private hockey camps money could buy. These guys got here on talent.

The kids are sitting in the team boxes, and I know they’re all around sixteen and seventeen years old, but they look like babies. It’s hard to believe I was their age only four years ago.

Time is moving way too fast.

“Meet your mentors for the summer,” Coach says. “These are the guys you have to impress. They report to us. But rest assured, we’re also watching.” Coach blows his whistle and turns to us. “Show ’em what you’ve got, boys. Scrimmage.”

The team splits into two lines. Schofield, our backup goalie from last season who’ll be number one this year, joins my line. The others kind of hesitate before deciding between my side and Jacobs’s, who only has Cohen.

Jacobs’s scowl is hard and directed at me. How original for him. “Martin, Hansen, and Rossi, you go to Beck’s side. He’ll need some actual scorers over there.”

The guys snicker and come over to me.

I try not to laugh because for a D-man, I have a high scoring record. Nowhere near as high as Jacobs’s, but it’s not supposed to be. I’m not just a bruiser on the ice. I help set up plays and get the puck in our zone.

Rossi takes center and skates up to face off with Greer.

I happen to be opposite Jacobs. Total accident, I swear.

We show the kids we’re “mentoring” this summer what it’s like to play college hockey, and coming off our Frozen Four win, we go all out to show off what we can do.

I’m bigger and wider than most other hockey players, and I know how to hit hard. When Jacobs is open and right in my way, I don’t hesitate to flatten him against the boards and steal the puck.

I get my boys over the blue line, and they take care of putting it past Simms, who’s attempting to protect the goal when he’s a sophomore forward.

When I glance over at Jacobs, his face is red, and he looks ready to pummel me to the ice.

What does it say about me that I think that sounds fun too?

I’m so used to being liked by everyone and being easy to get along with that I replace his contempt fascinating. I have no idea what I ever did to him, but whatever it was, I’m not even sorry.

Because … I weirdly like it.

I should probably see a shrink about that, but instead, I’m going to spend the next seven weeks pushing his buttons.

I skate past him and give him a mock salute.

His murder face is back.

So. Much. Fun.

The first day is more grueling than I thought it would be. By the time we’re told to hit the showers, I’m ready for a drink. Or a fuck.

The camp teenagers are experiencing dorm life for the first time in their short existence. No adults. No supervision. And apparently, it’s our responsibility to make sure they don’t do anything stupid.

Correction, it’s our underage teammates’ responsibility while the rest of us hit up a bar.

McIntyre’s is a favorite of the team’s because it’s within walking distance of campus.

When we get inside, my gaze immediately replaces Jacobs, who’s sitting at a booth with Grant’s boyfriend, Zach.

Grant’s never kept his sexuality a huge secret—it was one of the first things I learned when I met him—but it wasn’t until this past year that he actually got himself a boyfriend and went public with it.

His boyfriend is kind of … not the type of guy I’d thought Grant would go for. Zach’s not into sports, he’s academically inclined, and … okay, I’m trying to think of a less-insulting thing to call him than a nerd. But it’s what he is.

I figured if Grant was ever going to settle down with anyone, it’d be a big masculine dude with muscles and as much ego as him. For a long while, I actually thought he and Jacobs had a thing going on. Not that I’ve given Grant’s love life much thought.

Grant’s at the bar, and I slap his back as I approach.

“What’s up, man? When do you leave?”

He turns to me with a wide smile. “Next week. Zach and I are driving up and spending the summer getting acquainted with the city.”

Lucky fucker managed to score an NHL deal. He’s going to be playing hockey for a goddamn living, and I’m insanely jealous.

That’s not in the cards for me.

We grab drinks and make it back to the table where Grant slides in beside his boyfriend and puts his arm around Zach’s small shoulders.

Jacobs scowls at me as I move in next to him and make room for Cohen and Rossi.

“You know, I’ve heard smiling uses less muscles than scowling. You should try it sometime.” To prove my point, I give an easy smile.

“I’ve heard it’s easier to not be a dick. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

I laugh and sip my beer.

Grant rolls his eyes. “What are you two going to do now I’m leaving? There’ll be no one to get in between your bickering.”

“Why do you bicker?” Zach asks.

I say, “I have no idea,” at the same time Jacobs says, “He’s a dick.”

“Why are you so obsessed with my dick?” I taunt.

Zach purses his lips. “Animosity like that between two people can be an indicator of sexual tension.”

Grant leans toward his boyfriend. “He was joking, baby.”

Realization dawns on Zach’s face. “Oh. Right. Smack talk. Go jocks!” He half-heartedly fist pumps the air.

Grant kisses the side of his head.

Something at the sight makes my gut warm, but I’m quick to dismiss it. Affection isn’t something I’ve ever received. Not from my parents and hardly from any of the girls I’ve dated. I’ve never felt the need to kiss someone’s head lovingly or wrap my arm around them possessively.

But seeing Grant and his boyfriend makes me wonder if I’m missing out.

“So, I hear you two are duking it out for captain,” Grant says.

“Yep. Coach has left it up to the team to vote,” Jacobs says. “It’s bullshit. As if Mr. Party Favors over there isn’t gonna take it out if that’s the case.”

Grant rubs his jaw, and I can see his captain brain thinking of a solution. “Co-captains is always an option. Captain and alternate captain?”

“CU doesn’t do alternates,” Jacobs says. “You know that.”

“They usually don’t let the team vote for captain either,” I point out. “I’d be happy to make you my alternate.”

Jacobs gives me the finger.

“What if the team made you do certain captain challenges?” Grant asks. “Try to make it fair instead of a popularity contest.”

I smile. “You’re only saying that because you know your boy will lose if it comes down to who’s more likeable.”

Cohen bounces in his seat next to me. “No, no. I love this idea. We could make you streak across the quad or … ooh, drinking contest.”

Grant frowns. “That’s not what I meant. At all.”

Cohen takes out his phone. “What? Can’t hear you. I’m too busy texting the others.”

Jacobs and I share a glance. For the first time ever, I think we’re on the same page, thinking the exact same thing.

We’re fucked.