Page 27 of Snow, Ice, and Spice
Ingrid: You know, when I told my mom that you and Theo were staying together, she said she thought things between you two would get romantic in no time. Isn’t that crazy? Never mind the fact that you can’t stand him
A faint sinking feeling lands in my gut. I ignore it and text her back.
I love your mom, but no way, I can guarantee that Theo and I will never, ever get together
Chapter12
Theo
“Things just aren’t the same without you, man,” my teammate Xander says as he slides a beer bottle to me from across the rickety table at the dive bar we’re at.
“No alcohol for me. Just water.”
He looks at me like I’ve just told him I’m planning to drink battery acid for the rest of my life.
I point to my knee. “I’ve got PT in the morning. I’ve gotta hydrate.”
Xander shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He double-fists my beer along with his own.
“Coach Porter is way pissier after the stunt you pulled. Blomdahl showed up late to practice the other day and he made him do fifty laps around the ring. He was drenched in sweat,” my other teammate Dylan says.
“It sucks, man. He’s running us all ragged,” Xander says.
I flash a smile before taking a long sip of ice water, hoping the ice-cold liquid eases the sting working its way down my throat and chest. “Told you that you’d miss me when I’m gone. And come on, you should be able to handle it, you young buck.”
Xander laughs. At twenty-two, he’s the superstar of the team. He was a first-round draft pick and consistently runs circles around everyone else. He’s smug and cocky but he can play like hell.
“Seriously though, why’d you have to go and sleep with Estella?” Xander asks. “I mean, our assistant coach’s wife? What were you thinking? Thank fuck Marquez isn’t around anymore. He’d kick all our asses at practice too.”
Shame heats my face. I’m embarrassed just thinking about what I did. It happened only weeks ago, but it’s wild just how differently I feel about it now. I’d take it back if I could.
My teammate Isaac plops down with a handful of what looks like tequila shots. “I don’t think Theo was doing much thinking, guys. At least not with his brain.”
He crumples a napkin and tosses it at my junk, then cackles. The rest of our table joins in, roaring with laughter. I laugh along, despite that stinging sensation in my gut intensifying.
This isn’t the first time my teammates have given me shit. We give each other shit constantly actually. But that was before I was kicked off the team—that was when I was still one of them, when I was still part of the group, playing the sport that means so much to me.
“How you faring now? Still thinking exclusively with your dick?” Isaac asks.
I roll my eyes and flip him off, which earns me a laugh from the table. “What do you think?”
“I think that I’d bet good money that you’re still acting like a total man whore.” He claps me on the shoulder. “That’s what I’d be doing if I were in your shoes.”
“Pretty sure your wife would hang you by your balls if you tried to pull that,” I say.
He chuckles. “Yeah, she would.” He grins down at the gold band on his ring finger. “God, I love her.”
One of the servers drops off another round of shots at our table. Xander slides one to me, but I tell him no.
He tilts his head at me. “Dude, come on. One shot isn’t going to kill you.”
“Fine,” I grumble. I down the tequila and wince. “Jesus, what the hell is this? Dog piss?”
Isaac frowns at me. “Look around. This place is worse than a dive bar. You think we’re getting top-shelf tequila here?”
I glance around the dimly lit space of this basement bar on the edge of downtown Denver. It’s half-full on this weeknight, and even that’s an impressive showing given the state of this place. Fake wood paneling lines the walls and the black-brown carpet is sticky, likely due to decades’ worth of alcohol being spilled on it. Vomit too, probably. And piss. I count three flat screen TVs mounted above the bar, two of which don’t work.
When I lean back in my wooden chair it makes a cracking noise. I tense up, fully expecting it to crumble under my weight.
