I chat to them for a bit, offer to buy them drinks, and I walk away five minutes later with both their numbers.
Yeah, I’m so winning this one too.
I’m in the middle of talking with the next woman on my hit list, and she is all woman. Like, a cougar woman. Late thirties easy. But hey, a number is a number.
While she rambles about whatever, Jacobs catches my eye behind her. He’s talking to a group of guys who are wearing Boston hockey jerseys.
If he wants to waste his time talking hockey, that’s fine by me.
I get the cougar’s number and then go to move on when Cohen taps my shoulder.
“Time’s up. But it has been so much fun watching you hit on a woman old enough to be your mother.”
“I got three numbers.”
“Nice.”
Back at our table, I stare at Jacobs expectantly.
“Eight.”
I balk. “What? No fucking way. How?”
“I got game.”
“No, you don’t.”
He scowls, and I love it. “What would you know?” he snaps.
“How did you get that many numbers?”
“Six of them were those guys over there.” Cohen points to the hockey fans. “Told them he does hockey coaching as a side hustle and is looking for clients.”
“That doesn’t count. You got two girls’ numbers. I win.”
“Hey, Cohen never said we had to get girls’ numbers. If Grant was doing this, he wouldn’t have limited himself.” Jacobs shrugs. “Think outside the box, Beck.”
“Technically, he’s not wrong,” Cohen says.
“One win each, then?” Jacobs asks.
Cohen nods.
“This is bullshit,” I protest.
“Now, now, Beck. A captain can’t be a sore loser.” Jacobs turns to Cohen. “What’s next?”
The evil glint in Cohen’s eyes lets me know exactly what’s next. And now I can’t afford to let Jacobs win another one.
“You’ll find out tomorrow night.”
Streaking it is.
5
Jacobs
I’m used to going hard during the season, but the first six days of this training camp have kicked my ass. It hasn’t been all on the ice. We’ve had to run the kids through gym training and nutrition, supervise meals, and run drills at night. Which means way too much time with Beck.
Thankfully, I’ve figured out a way to split us up. While he works with the goalies and defense kids, I deal with the forwards. It hasn’t stopped him from getting under my skin, but it has given me the space I need to keep pretending like his shit isn’t getting to me.
Beating cocky Beck at getting peoples’ numbers was the highlight of my week. Any asshole can down some beer, but I more than doubled him with numbers, and I know that hit him hard. Fuck him and that virgin comment.
I don’t flaunt my hookups like he does or have anywhere near as many, but that doesn’t mean I’m inexperienced.
I’ve been with plenty of chicks.
I just don’t see what all the fuss is about.
Some of the guys on our team are way too graphic about what they get up to at night, and yeah, I play their game to an extent, but I’m not about to pony up details. It’s bad enough that I feel pressured to hook up with people when casual isn’t my style, but I’m sick of the shit they give me for not sleeping my way through the puck bunnies on campus.
When I get back to my dorm after camp activities for the day, I shower and mentally prepare myself for whatever bullshit Cohen has planned for tonight. Apparently we’re meeting in the quad at ten thirty which doesn’t fill me with a whole lot of confidence. Still, if I can win whatever crap they have planned, I’ll be one up. Then I only need to take out one of the next two wins to shut Beck up for good.
It by no means guarantees getting captain, but it’ll be a good start.
I’ve sent Cohen to supervise dinner because I figure I need to get payback in advance for whatever’s coming, if the knowing look he gave me at the end of practice was any indication.
I’m way too antsy to wait it out though, so by the time it hits ten I head down. Surprisingly, I’m not the first one there.
Rossi and Cohen are chatting with Beck, who’s sitting against a metal water fountain.
“Why do I feel like I’m walking into a trap?”
The look Cohen and Rossi share sinks lead into my gut.
Beck looks completely unruffled as usual, and if I’m honest, out of the two of us, he looks primed for leadership. Perfectly styled blond hair, steady stare, lips that always seem to be smiling. After getting out of the shower, I barely ran my hand through my hair, and now it’s dried however the hell it wanted.
He might have the look, but I have the brains.
I’m not gonna give up now. “All right, we’re here, let’s do this.”
“Not yet, Topher,” Rossi says.
I grit my teeth. “That’s really caught on, huh?” I try to keep my voice light because no way am I letting Beck see the way his shit gets to me. But the fact he’s got the team started on it is yet more evidence of his influence over them.
“It reminds me of gopher,” Cohen says. Him having my back makes it slightly less annoying. “But, yeah, no starting yet. Still more people to come.”
“More people” turns out to be the entire team that is here for the summer. I’m told to sit with Beck, so I take the farthest spot on the fountain seat possible and cross my arms while I wait.
This isn’t going to be good.
“Thanks, assholes, for coming,” Cohen says. “I know everyone is keen as hell to see what these two idiots will be doing.”
I look over at Beck at the same time as he turns to me, and I scowl at him before I catch myself. His entire face lights up. Fucker. He loves pissing me off, and I’ve been doing so well at not giving him the satisfaction, but he refuses to leave me alone and it’s getting harder by the minute.
The confident bastard raises his eyebrows at me. He clearly thinks he’s going to win this one.
“So tonight, our two bitches—ah, captains—are going to go for a little run.”
I force my attention away from Beck and back to Cohen, sure there’s got to be more.
“From here to the south parking lot.” He winks at me. “Naked.”
Of course. He’d mentioned streaking the other night, but I never thought they’d go through with it. “Vetoed. If we get caught, we’ll be in shit.”
Rossi shrugs. “You can bow out of any challenge at any time. No one’s forcing you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”
“But we all know a good streak is part of college tradition,” Cohen cuts in. “Can you really say you’ve lived until you’ve seen a teammate buck naked, running across campus?”
“Yes. I honestly can.”
Beck jumps to his feet. “Chicken out, then. I’ve got this one covered.” He reaches to peel off his shirt, and all I can do is sit there and watch the shameless display. Somehow his pecs look even bigger in the filtered light than they do under the harsh fluorescents of the locker rooms. Not that I’ve taken much notice before. At all. It was purely for research purposes.