Derek laughed. “Probably.”
My phone lit up with a reminder. I had an appointment with my academic advisor across campus in half an hour.
“Oh shoot. I should go.” I stood up, pushing the chair back.
“I’m glad we got to talk,” he said.
“Me too.” We had more to work through, but it was a step in the right direction.
OceanofPDF.com
CHAPTER 40
OceanofPDF.com
TOLD YOU
Bailey
A one-day break to sober up from intoxication via Chase probably wasn’t the worst thing. After flying high all day yesterday, I needed to come back down to earth.
Just not today, apparently.
Best laid plans and all that.
Rain pelted against the glass rooftop of the atrium as Chase and I perched at a black metal table tucked away in the corner of the Callingwood campus food court, finishing the last of our burrito bowls. We hadn’t planned to see each other today, and I’d planned to work on a few assignments during my break while Chase performed his usual pre-game routine after his last afternoon class. Later tonight, we would be at two different arenas for two different games.
But when one of Chase’s profs called in sick at the last minute, he’d texted me to meet for lunch, and all the other stuff went right out the window. Finalizing the feature on the Callingwood Symphonic Chorus for the paper’s weekend edition would have to wait because the lure of spending time with him was way too appealing.
So much for the self-discipline I prided myself on having.
I turned to face Chase, taking in the adorably awkward way he was trying to fit his oversized frame into the chair attached to the small table. His legs were far too long, forcing him to bend his knees out at an unwieldy angle.
“The world’s not made for people your size, huh?”
Chase glanced down at his blue jean-clad legs, lips tugging up. “Nope.” He nodded at me. “That’s why I like that you’re tall too. You know what it’s like to tower over everyone else.”
“I feel bad that you came all this way to see me when you have to turn around and go right back.”
He threw his arm along the back of my chair, fingers grazing my upper back. “What else would I do with my free Friday afternoon? Study? Alone?”
“Well, yeah.” I laughed, taking the last bite of my cilantro lime rice. “That would probably be a good idea. And what about your whole pre-game nap routine?”
“Why would I want to sleep when I could hang out with you here?”
I pointed at him with my fork. “You don’t even go here.”
“So?” Chase shrugged. “I’m still a student.”
Fair enough. And at least he was wearing a black zip-up hoodie instead of his usual scarlet Falcons gear. The crimson bird was verboten around these parts.
“Okay, but as soon as we’re done eating, we have to actually study.” I tried—and failed—to keep a straight face, my tone stern. “And by we, I mean you. Study. Not flirt with me from across the table.”
“How about both?” He flashed me a playful smile. “You know, compromise.”
Impossibly charming and impossible to refuse.
“Whatever keeps you studying and off probation.”
“I’ll have you know I’m pulling straight Bs this semester.” He took a sip of his bottled water, giving me an innocent look that I almost bought. “I’ve been a perfect angel.”
“You mean replaced by an impostor?” I asked, gathering up my empty bowl, napkin, and cutlery, while Chase did the same.
“More like rehabilitated by your good influence.”
We stood and took our garbage and recycling over to the bins by the pillar, then I steered him to the stairwell that led to my favorite study room on the second floor. It was cozy, with comfortable chairs and functioning heat, which was more than I could say for some of Callingwood’s other study areas.
“Hmm.” I hummed, pausing with my hand on the stainless-steel door handle. “If I’m your good influence, does that make you my bad influence?”
“Definitely.” Chase brushed my hair off my shoulder. A shiver ran down my spine at his touch. He tucked my hair out of the way and moved in close, nuzzling my ear. “Speaking of that,” he murmured. “I can’t wait to get my hands on you tomorrow night.”
My breath caught. I was expecting a kiss on the cheek, not dirty talk in the middle of the student commons. But this was Chase I was dealing with.
“Why’s that?” I asked, voice breathy.
“Because I’m going to make you come so hard you wake up your new neighbors.”
A jolt ran through me, and I whipped my head around to face him, eyes wide. “Oh my god. Chase. There are people everywhere.”
“I know.” He gave me a wolffish grin. “That’s why I said it quietly.”
“But now I feel…”
“Turned on?”
“In public.” I scanned our surroundings for eavesdroppers. The seating area behind him was filled with students eating and milling around, carrying trays of food and talking on their phones. Of course none of them had noticed a thing. No one knew I was getting all hot and bothered. But still.
“That’s the point, James. Anticipation is half the fun.” He nudged me, opening the door and holding it for me.
I shook my head, lowering my voice. “You’re such a tease.”
“Of course,” he said. “I love teasing you.”
“I could tease you too, you know.”
His gaze snared mine, warm brown eyes a mixture of amusement and desire. “Yes, please.”
“Famous last words, Carter.”
I would get him back someday. I just had to work up the nerve.
After spending an hour studying—or trying to while Chase took advantage of the otherwise empty room, doing his best to banter and play footsie with me—he walked me to class on the opposite side of campus.
We made our way across the quad with the wind gusting, a gloomy gray sky looming overhead. At least the rain had stopped. Usually, I loved fall, but the weather today was depressing, hinting of the winter to follow.
“Guess who called me the other day?” Chase said, taking a sip of his black coffee. His other hand was laced in mine, the heat of his skin warming it against the cold.
“Who?”
“The assistant GM for Los Angeles.”
“What?” I froze with my cup halfway to my mouth. “That’s huge. What did he want?”
“Checking in. How’s school coming, training and nutrition, how are my coaches, talk about game tapes, things scouts have noticed.”
Having been drafted before he started school, Chase was in the ideal situation for a college hockey player. A spot on the team was his to lose.
Conversely, Derek hadn’t been drafted. He still didn’t know who, if anyone, would pick him up after graduation. He might not know until well into next summer. And even then, it could be the NHL, AHL, or ECHL—or none of the above, which meant finding a regular job like everyone else. The last possibility scared him the most. He desperately wanted to play professionally after college.
“It’s early in the season for them to be reaching out, isn’t it?” I asked, my brow furrowed. I wasn’t as familiar with the ins and outs of the signing process as I was with other aspects of hockey.