The Score (Off-Campus #3)(53)
“Nothing. I’ll probably just grab dinner in one of the meal halls. Why? What are you up to?”
“I’ve got an errand to run and then I rented some ice time for the Hurricanes.”
My stomach falls a little. Not see him tonight? I force myself not to show any disappointment. Just because we’re together doesn’t mean we need to be joined at the hip.
“Want to meet for dinner after?” he adds.
My heart flips over. “Sure.”
“Cool. Can you come to the arena? There’s this restaurant nearby that I think you’d like. It’s an Italian place, but it’s got all this fun old-time movie memorabilia.” His hand wanders underneath the blankets, which are pulled down to his waist.
I poke myself in the eye. “Would you stop touching yourself?” I drop the mascara tube on the table and pick up a tissue to wipe the smear of black I just made at the inside corner of my eyelid because I can’t keep my fricking eyes off Dean.
“What’s wrong, baby? You jealous? I was thinking of how hot you look.” He rolls to his side. “You make a little circle with your mouth when you put your eye makeup on. It’s basically begging me to stick my dick in there.”
Nope, there’s nothing warm and squishy about my relationship with this guy. I shoot him a disbelieving glance. “We just got done having morning sex,” I remind him. I apply two quick swipes of the mascara before Dean’s hand can do more damage under the bed sheets.
“That was thirty minutes ago. Since then, you’ve showered, waved your tits and bare ass in front of me getting dressed, and then made little blowjob circles with your mouth. So yeah, I’m horny again. Sue me.”
I throw my coat on and lean a knee on the mattress to kiss him goodbye. “You’ll have to jerk off then because I have class and I don’t want to be late.”
He curls up and kisses my neck first, then my lips. “I’m going to rub one off now so that I can last longer tonight.”
Damn it. Now I’m horny.
*
Dean is on the ice when I arrive at the small arena across from Hastings Elementary. I always thought coaches sat on the sidelines and barked out orders, but he’s in the middle of the rink, his attention fixed on one slight figure wearing pink skates. Pink? I thought the Hurricanes were a boys’ league.
“You’re getting too high. Stay low so your weight is better distributed.” He crouches low enough that his own head is barely higher than the miniature player and his butt is skimming the ice.
I watch in amazement as he actually skates a few yards before stretching out a leg and spinning around. His smoothness on the ice is pretty amazing.
“Come on. Give it another try.”
The skater wobbles forward.
“Remember, when you’re perfectly straight, you’re actually standing on the inner and outer edge of your blade. The middle of the blade is scooped out.” Dean makes an upside down u-shape with his finger. “You want to use your edges to keep your legs from spreading too far out. It feels weird at first but I promise you’ll get the hang of it.”
One pink skate pushes forward tentatively, followed by the opposite one, and the whole motion is repeated again until the figure glides past the crouching Dean.
“Is this okay?” a little girl’s voice calls out. “Am I doing it right?”
“You sure are.” He watches her intently as she floats along the ice. “You’re a natural, Koty.”
“Who’s Koty?” she asks.
“You’re Koty. Or wait, maybe…Dakota-y? Everyone needs a nickname.”
“What’s yours?” Dakota puts her tiny fists on her non-existent hips.
“Awesome. I’m awesome.” He winks at her and then pulls her hands into his, and the two of them skate together. Or I should say Dean skates backwards and Dakota clings to him. Her eyes are fixed on his face, two adoring spots savoring his every movement.
Despite the chilly air in the arena, I’m completely warm. Dean’s patience toward this young girl is making my ovaries explode. This is a side of him I’ve never seen before, never thought I even cared about.
Sweetness unfurls inside of me, filling in the cracks and holes I didn’t realize existed, taking me completely by surprise.
“Are you in love with him?”
“No. I don’t have that squishy feeling…”
I think back to my conversation with Hannah, and…fuck. What am I feeling then? How is it that everything he does makes me smile? Why was he the first one I turned to when I was desperately upset? Why—
An ear-piercing whistle cuts off my silly thoughts, and I’m grateful for the interruption. The sound of what seems like a hundred sticks pounding against the ice fills the arena. I notice a line of pint-sized hockey players on the other end of the rink.
Dean gestures for them to skate forward and they all race to do his bidding, sending up a wall of shaved ice when they stop at the center line.
“While Dakota practices her skating, I want you to break into two groups. The first group will carry the puck, head up from the blue line and back again. The second group stands in the middle of the ice. No reaching or trying to steal or checking. Just stand there. Once the first group returns to the blue line, switch. Most important part of this drill is keeping your head up.”
Dean arranges the boys who serve as the obstacles at varying points along the ice and then remains in the middle of the action as the team splits into two and starts racing up and down the ice, swerving neatly to avoid their teammates.
“He’s doing a great good job with them,” a deep male voice tells me. I turn to find an older man joining me on the bleachers.
“Dean?” I ask. The man nods. “Yeah, he looks like he’s enjoying himself.”
“He is. I’m Doug Ellis.”
We shake hands. “Allie Hayes. Friend of Dean’s. He was bragging about how well the Hurricanes are doing this year. Better than his team.”
Ellis chuckles wryly. “Briar’s not going to get another Frozen Four appearance this year, which is too bad. How’s Dean taking it?”
“All right, I guess. He wants to win, but…I don’t think hockey is his life. He plans to go to law school next year.” Dean hasn’t spoken of the pros at all, not the way Garrett does. From what I can tell, he loves the game but the game doesn’t define him, which I appreciate. Sometimes Garrett’s hockey talk gets really tiresome. I’m not sure how Hannah handles it, but I guess when you’re in love you overlook things like that.
Beside me, Ellis sighs. “Seems like a damned shame, this law school thing. He’s got teacher written all over him.”
We watch the players run their drill, while Dean takes the time to speak to a few of the skaters who aren’t as fast or as smooth as their teammates. He doesn’t raise his voice, but the kids listen intently. He pats them on the head or back before he lets them go.
“Do you have a kid out there?” I dip my head toward the ice.
“Not anymore. I have a son who played on the Hurricanes but he’s in high school now. One of the other PE teachers offered to take over for me after Wyatt moved on, but I wouldn’t give up this coaching post for anything. Kids at this age are special. They’re hungry to learn, still think an authority figure is there to help them, not hold them back, and just the threat of discipline works as effectively as the actual act of punishment.”
“It’s all downhill from there, I take it?”
“You have no idea.” He shakes his head in mock dismay. “The older they get, the more they think they know. Dean, though, he’s got the touch. I’ve had older kids hang around just to listen to him talk to the Hurricanes. And it isn’t just the boys that are drawn to him.” Ellis points to Dakota. “That little girl looks at him like he hung the moon, and she looked that way even before he gave her the pink skates. He’s patient and speaks to the kids like they’re important. You don’t see that in a lot of college students. Hell, you don’t see that kind of behavior in most adults.” Ellis shrugs. “If Dean took an interest in coaching, he’d be great at it, but I guess spending your days with middle-schoolers isn’t a glamorous job like being a lawyer.”
“Dean didn’t pick law because it’s glamorous,” I object, feeling the need to defend him again.
“Then you should talk to him about teaching, or coaching, anything that lets him work with kids. He’s made for it.” Ellis starts to get up but I stop him.
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because you also look at him like he hung the moon. And I get the sense he feels the same about you.” Ellis tips his head and then he’s gone, skating over to join Dean and the boys on the ice.
*
Dean
“What were you and Doug looking all serious about?” I tease, linking my fingers through Allie’s as we cross the parking lot toward my car. I click the key fob. “Please don’t tell me he was hitting on you.”
She blanches. “Oh, God no. In front of children? That would be so inappropriate.”
I can’t help but laugh. For someone who’s such a dirty girl in bed, her obsession with propriety and labels is kinda ridiculous. “So what did he want?”