I have literally stood open at the post in practice like 12 times just for you to put a shot right into colie’s pads. Wrists and follow through cauler. Lift. The puck.
Jaysen Caulfield @jaycaul21 ? 2m
I take it back. THAT was the funniest thing you’ve ever said. You’re really gonna talk about being open at the post after last night’s game? That’s bold, Terzo.
Mickey James III @mjames17 ? 1m
If I had any faith in your accuracy I would’ve passed to you no problem
Jaysen Caulfield @jaycaul21 ? 36s
Are you for real right now? This is a joke right. This is you trying to improve your social skills by telling terrible jokes. Otherwise nothing you just said made any sense
Paul Duggan @duggerfest ? 21s
Is this really happening in my @’s rn
EIGHTEEN
Zero grabs the shoulder of my hoodie and pulls. It’s either get choked or follow, so I throw back my chair and stagger after him. My phone drops to the floor with a heavy thud. He doesn’t give me time to pick it up, just keeps dragging me along behind him. Some of the guys lean back in their chairs and peek over the walls of their study carrels to watch.
We’re heading right for Cauler.
Kill me.
All I see is his back from here, headphones over his ears, but I’m sure he’s hunched over his phone waiting for my half-typed reply. Zero grabs him the same way he grabbed me, but it’s not so easy to manhandle him. Cauler slides off his headphones and puts them around his neck.
“Let’s go,” Zero barks. “Leave your phone.”
Cauler sets it facedown on his desk and stands slowly. He gives me a cool look, but I keep my face as neutral as possible as Zero drags us toward the exit.
“You two are gonna sit out in the cold until you stop acting like teenagers,” he says.
“But we are teenagers,” Cauler says. I roll my eyes.
“Embarrassments to this team is what you are,” Zero snaps. “Fighting on Twitter? Seriously? Analysts are already up your asses and now you pull this shit?” He holds the door open and pushes us out onto the bridge outside the library. “Figure your shit out before you ruin my championship season. You have till the end of study hall.”
He pulls the door closed behind him and leaves us. It’s quiet. Everyone’s in the dorms on the other side of campus recovering from last night, and it’s pretty much just us overachieving athletes out here. The black wood of the bridge is covered by leaves from the branches arching over it, and I am totally focused on that just so I don’t have to acknowledge this awkward tension as Cauler and I stand facing each other in silence.
I pull up my hood and stuff my hands in the pocket, hunching my shoulders against the wind. I hope I get sick just so I can sneeze on Zero as revenge for whatever this is.
I’m not about to speak first. Sure, this is probably my fault. Definitely my fault. But there’s no way I’m admitting to it.
Cauler holds out for what feels like a solid two minutes before he says, “They’re probably in there making bets on if we’re gonna make out or not.”
I start walking away before he catches me blushing. I only make it a few steps before leaves start crunching behind me. Part of me is thrilled he’s following after saying something like that, but the rest of me hates myself for it. It’s not like we’re really gonna start making out right now just because the boys want us to.
Great, now that’s all I can think about. How are we supposed to figure our shit out if I’m too busy fantasizing to talk to him?
Cauler catches up by the time I step off the bridge, and he seems to know exactly where I’m heading, turning toward the lake without waiting for me. We make it all the way past Main, the dock in sight before he speaks again. “If you really don’t trust my accuracy, we can hit the rink right now and clear that up. But I think you’re full of it.”
I sigh, and mutter, “You’re probably right.”
“Then what was that about?”
There’s more people outside now that we’re by one of the dorms and the dining hall. There’s some girls sitting under the giant sycamore in front of Main in sweaters and leggings and scarves, sipping from paper coffee cups and looking at us for a little too long as we pass. A guy’s crossing the bridge over the creek from the other dorms, tapping on his phone, glancing up to watch his step. His eyes follow when he spots us.
I duck my head. “Not here.” I say it as if I’m actually gonna explain myself once we’re not being watched.