The Dare - Elle Kennedy Page 0,52

uh…” Coach admires the watch, at a loss for words. “This is real nice, guys. I, umm…” He sniffs, rubbing his face. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was about to cry. “This is a special group. I mean it when I say I’ve never had a better bunch of guys.”

“Better than the years Garrett Graham and John Logan were on the roster?” Foster demands, naming two of Briar’s most famous alumni. Graham and Logan both play for the Bruins these days.

“Let’s not be crazy now,” Coach replies, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes. “You all worked hard for each other, and that’s all I can ever ask. So thank you. This is great.”

Foster brings out a cooler of beers from the bench and passes out bottles while we all take one last chance to appreciate being on this ice together. I have no doubt next year we’ll be a strong team. But it’ll never be this one again.

Eight months ago, I showed up on this campus with a sudden pang of regret, wondering if I’d made a rash and ill-considered decision to ship my life nearly three thousand miles across the country to start over. I feared I’d never fit in with the ivy-covered legacies of this place, that I’d choke on the Ralph Lauren polos and inbred poshness of it all. And then I met these idiots.

I couldn’t have asked for better friends.

And Taylor. I’ve known her less than a month, yet I count her among the short list of people I trust. She makes me want to be a better person. With her, I feel like I can finally get something right, like maybe I can actually have a real relationship based on friendship rather than lust. Even if some of my friends are having a hard time believing that.

“All I’m saying is,” Foster babbles in the Jeep on the ride home, “Con didn’t come back to our room Saturday night. So unless he hopped in bed with you and Demi, Captain, I’ve got a good idea what he was up to.”

“Dude, jealousy is not a good look on you,” I drawl.

“For real, though.” Hunter leans forward from the backseat, where he’s sitting with Matt. “What’s up with you two?”

Hell if I know.

I mean, I like Taylor. A lot. But I’m also pretty sure that if I bring up the matter of renegotiating the terms of our relationship, I’ll scare her away. I don’t think she’s convinced yet that I’m reformed, and to be honest, no one is more surprised by my recent turn in favor of monogamy than I am. For the moment, though, I’m enjoying myself.

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell,” I respond.

Foster snorts. “So then what’s your excuse?”

“Con, you should make Foster pay rent if he’s gonna stay on your dick this much,” Hunter says with a grin.

I’m starting to have sympathy for the hell we gave Hunter over Demi and the ridiculous celibacy pact he made at the beginning of the semester. This shit’s annoying. The guys are like dogs with a bone, and I can only imagine it’ll get worse now that the season’s over and they’ve got nothing else to do than hound my ass.

So when Hunter corners me when we stop to pick up some lunch at the diner, my newfound sympathy has me being a bit more forthcoming with him.

“How serious is this?” he asks while we wait by the car for Matt and Foster to grab our orders from inside.

“I don’t know if it’s serious. Definitely on the way to being not not-serious.” I shrug. “We haven’t even had sex yet,” I confess, because I know Hunter can keep shit to himself. “Buffalo was the first time we fooled around.”

“That’s sort of the best part though, isn’t it? Before sex. When all you’re thinking about is having it for the first time. All the anticipation, you know? Getting each other all messed up over the tension.”

I wouldn’t know from experience—this is the first time sex wasn’t the first step for me. Usually it’s the first and last. “I remember you being kind of crabby, actually.”

“Well, yeah.” He laughs. “There’s that too.”

“Taylor’s a good girl. We get along great.” I hesitate for a moment. “Honestly, I’m trying to see how long I can go before she realizes I’m a dirtbag and she’s too smart for me.”

Hunter shakes his head. “You know, if you didn’t treat yourself like a dirtbag, maybe other people wouldn’t, either.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Whatever, dickhead.”

I