Page 29 of Her Hat Trick Daddies
Still nothing. He doesn’t even flinch. Just gets up, squints at the chair, then at the desk, then back to the chair, like they’ve all done him dirty. He wipes at his jeans, sits back down, and starts the whole weird cycle all over again.
David is normally steady as a rock. So yeah, this is officially weird.
“Dude, what the fuck is up with you?” I mutter, keeping it low.
A few seats down, Andy’s been unusually quiet. Suspiciously quiet. He’s been watching us like a hawk while the coaches and the rest of the team filter out. Levi and Eric bring up the rear, and the second they’re gone, Andy springs up and plops beside David like it’s a damn intervention.
Andy isn’t subtle. Despite being older than us by four years, he sometimes lets his immaturity get the better of him. Hehatesbeing out of the loop and never shuts up about it. So, of course, he opens his mouth first.
“Yeah, dude, what the fuck is up with you?” He play-punches David in the arm. “What are we talking about again?”
“You’re such a prick,” I tell him.
“Yeah, I know.” He grins like a gremlin, way too many teeth. It’s disturbing.
“Hey, Captain,” I try again. “Shit, man. Wake the fuck up.”
“Iamawake,” David mutters.
Not convincingly. This is not David Decker behavior. Not even close.
“You need another coffee? Something sweet? Protein? A banana?” I rattle off, trying to get something out of him.
“I might’ve slept with someone I shouldn’t have,” he admits finally, voice low.
Andy perks up instantly. “Like who? A hooker? Do tell.”
David punches him in the arm, and that one definitelywasn’ta play punch.
“No, you idiot.”
“Then who?” I press, ready to get down to brass tacks. “Spit it out.”
He scratches his head, eyes darting everywhere but our faces. “The, uh… sports commentator.”
Andy’s face lights up, and I swear if he makes one crack about Wilson, Iwillpunch him. Right in the face.
Maybe he senses it, because, for once, Andy keeps his damn mouth shut.
Leighton Jennings, this year’s rookie sports commentator, has been doing a decent job so far, but I had no clue David had set his sights on her for any extracurriculars. Damn. My friend is not one to dip his pen in company ink.
“You fucked her all by your lonesome? You could’ve at least called us so we could join in.”
Should’ve known even a punch wouldn’t keep Andy quiet for long.
David and I both shoot daggers at him, annoyed. But it’s not just Andy I’m frustrated with.Didn’t wejusttalk about this the other day? About the problems we’ve been having thanks to that clip that popped up online?
“Isn’t this exactly how we ended up in that situation not too long ago?” I challenge David. “Come on, man. That’s against our contracts, too.” He might be our captain, technically outranking me, but this isn’t about rank. This is personal. And right about now? I have to question his judgment.
“Yeah, maybe,” David sighs, dragging a hand down his face.
This isn’t like him. Or, not the version of him we’ve had since we arrived in Denver.Out on the ice or in the stands, David is strictly discipline and control. But back in the day? He was the hellraiser, the one who dared me to do the wildest, dumbest shit imaginable. It helped pull me out of my shell, sure. But it also got us into trouble more times than I can count.
Like that time we were sixteen and almost got arrested. We were screwing around with fireworks and accidentally lit a fire down by the river bottoms. What we didn’t realize until later was that a propane factory sat just beyond that stretch. If that fire had spread a football field farther, we could’ve blown the whole damn thing sky-high.
We were scared as shit. We peeled out of there in a panic, and a cop ended up pulling us over for erratic driving. He thought we were drunk, but we weren’t. We passed the breathalyzer and every sobriety test, but I was all over the road from sheer panic. Thankfully, he let us off with a warning.
We didn’t say a single word on the way home. And we’ve never talked about that afternoon since.
