Page 14 of Catch
“Easy,” Jett repeats, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.
“Take your best shot, Sugar.”
Jett ignores my taunt and runs over to take his spot for the free kick. I join my teammates, ready to throw myself in front of that ball if necessary. Okay, maybe that’s a bit dramatic. I don’t want any injuries; I have a hockey season to play.
“If we lose this game, Ethan, you’re not just shaving your head, you’re going to lose all your body hair,” Silas snarks.
“Why’re you picking on me? This is a team sport. What happened to our ‘we win together’ motto?”
Silas gives me the eye roll.
“You don’t make stupid penalties on the ice, so why’re you doing it now?”
I snap my mouth shut and sigh.
“Exactly,” Silas adds. “Stop letting Jett get to you.”
“I’m not.”
It’s a lie, but I’m going with it.
Ignoring Silas’s knowing smirk, I gather with the guys and wait for Jett to take his kick. The ball slides low, between our players, but thankfully Maddox is quick enough and blocks the shot.
“Yes!’ I shout with both hands in the air.
Unfortunately, my high is short-lived.
This is soccer and there’s no wasting time. We’re back to regular play and it’s still anyone’s game with ten minutes left. Jackson gets hold of the ball and he’s as fast as Jett. Despite Axel and Jace going after him, when Jackson gets an opening, he slams it with precision. Maddox does his best, but the shot flies over his hands, and the goal is so fast that if you blinked, you’d have missed it.
Fuck, the game is now 2–1 for the Crew.
This time, I’m not angry; I’m in shock. I run an agitated hand through my sweaty hair as I start to shiver. I don’t ever concede defeat, not until the clock runs out, but I’ve got a bad, bad feeling in my gut.
We keep going and make every play count—running faster, charging harder. But still, no goal for the Cougars.
Josiah gives us the signal when there’s only a minute left, and my skin starts to prickle with unease. I’m hot, frustrated, and about to lose my goddamn head.
No, not my head, my hair…
Dane makes a valiant attempt at another goal, but he’s no match for the Crew’s defense.
The final whistle blows, and I hang my head, unable, for the first time, to meet Jett’s gaze, which I can feel on my back like a fucking brand.
“Is this really happening?” Dane asks me as he runs a hand through his shaggy hair. “Did we lose?”
“Yep. Thank fuck it’s not hockey.”
I try to picture myself without my hair, and I don’t care if it’s vain, but I don’t like it. Losing my mane means I probably won’t get laid for the rest of the semester. Bad enough I’m dealing with a dry spell. Never thought I’d ever admit that, even to myself, but it’s the truth. I hardly got laid during the summer. The girls in my hometown want to date me, not fuck me. Well, they want to fuck too, but in the hopes it’ll mean something more. Not to me. Sex is fun and that’s it.
To make matters worse, when I got back to campus, most of my usual hookups were either too busy fucking someone else or in serious relationships. Yuck. I don’t believe in love or dating or any of that shit. Love makes people crazy. This I know firsthand, thanks to my parents. Even after a decade being divorced, my mom and dad still have nothing nice to say to each other. To this day, I don’t even know how they managed to stay together long enough to have me and my siblings.
“You’re not gonna cry, are you?” Dane quips as he nudges my arm.
“No.”
Maybe.
“If anything, I’ll look hotter with a shaved head.”
