Page 9 of Breakaway Goal

Lane laughs at our two roommates’ antics, and I take a big step away from a very sweaty Tuck McCoy.

Lane and I may be sort of an odd couple as best friends, but we’ve got nothing on Tuck and Hudson.

The two of them being friends at all is something no one would have envisioned last year when Hudson moved in with us after transferring to Brumehill.

Tuck is ridiculous, happy-go-lucky, extroverted to the extreme, and possesses nothing even approximating a filter. Hudson, on the other hand, is introverted, reserved, and still a bit of a grump, even though he’s not nearly as prickly as he was this time last year.

But now they’re genuinely best friends:besties, as Tuck loves to say, and Hudson very muchdoesn’tlove to say.

“What are you two doing just standing by the door anyway?” Tuck asks, thankfully forgetting what he was just talking about.

“Just got back from a ride,” I say.

“On your motorcycle?” Hudson asks.

I nod.

Hudson’s lips draw thin, his brow lowering as he looks down at my empty hand. “No helmet?”

My lips twitch. Hudson may still be a grump, but there’s a heart of gold under there, and if you pay attention, he makes it clear that he cares about the people close to him.

“Usually don’t wear one,” I shrug, knowing full well I should.

“You know, Rhys,” Hudson says, “you should really …”

“I know, I know, I know,” I spurt. “I should wear a helmet.”

“I’ve been telling him that for years,” Lane sighs.

“Here’s an idea,” I say, “how about you guys stop lecturing me on safety, and we get something to eat? I’m fucking starving.”

Tuck’s face lights up like he’s a puppy who’s just heard the wordcatch. “Bestie double date?”

“Please don’t call it that,” Hudson groans.

“Come on, Hudson.” Tuck pats our grumpy goalie on the chest with the back of his hand. “Let’s go up and put on some dry shirts. We need to look our best for ourbestie double date.”

Hudson grumbles as he trudges up the stairs after Tuck, who’s practically bouncing up them with glee.

“Should we ditch them and just go ourselves?” I ask Lane once they’ve reached the second floor. “Or at least ditch Tuck?”

“Tempting,” Lane answers. “But what kind of team captain would I be if I agreed to something like that?”

“A cool one,” I say, pushing my fingertips underneath his ribs as I walk past him to get a drink of water from the kitchen.

“Ow!” Lane yelps, jumping back. “Asshole.”

A couple minutes later, the four of us are walking out the door ready to get some grub. When we step off the porch, we run into our fifth roommate.

“Sebastian!” Tuck exclaims. “We were just about to get some lunch. Sadly, we can’t invite you to join us, though. It’s a bestie double date. You understand.”

“Tuck!” Lane pushes Tuck’s shoulder. “Of course you can come, Sebastian.”

Sebastian chuckles. “Nah, I’m good. Just ate a little while ago, actually. I’m just gonna hang out and finish my book.”

Sebastian’s a year younger than the rest of us, a junior while we’re all seniors, and he’s a total bookworm. Hell, he’s more than a bookworm, he’s a fuckingintellectual. Reads all the time about everything under the sun, gets A’s in all his classes, even teaches himself foreign languages just for fun.

Most people would guess he’s studying to get a PhD in Literature or something rather than an athlete, but he’s one of the best center forwards in college hockey.

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