“Yeah, he’s a sadistic asshole on a good day, so anything is possible.” I sigh. “But if it’s a surprise practice, where’s everyone else? I heard no signs of life coming from Connor and Keene’s rooms, and they should know better than being late when Coach calls us.”
Luke glances at the smart watch on his wrist. “Whatever the deal is, it’s five to eight. You know better than me that keeping Coach waiting is never a good idea.”
I follow him as he walks toward the door of the arena. “Yeah, but the fact that we’re the only ones here is weird. Come to think of it, there really is no reason why we should be punished with an extra practice on a vacation day. Could this be a prank?”
Luke doesn’t stop walking, but considers my words nonetheless. “I doubt it. No one on the team would be so crazy to steal Coach’s phone or to hack into it. Not even Tucker.”
“I doubt that dipshit even has the skills for something like that.” I snort. “But if it isn’t a prank, what the fuck is going on?”
Luke lifts his fist to knock on Coach’s office door. “There’s only one way to find out.”
“Come on in.” Coach’s voice is louder than I would have expected from inside the office.
The door actually opens before we can grab the handle, and Coach Harrison ushers us inside.
The first thing I notice is that he isn’t in his usual Cove Knights tracksuit, but in a casual polo and khaki pants.
The second thing that strikes me as odd is that Coach isn’t sitting at his desk, like he always is when someone is called into his office.
But there’s a reason for that, I discover as soon as Coach Harrison steps to the side, letting us into the room.
Dean Fletcher—the previous head of admissions who succeeded Dean Williams after the scandal that shook the school to its very foundations our sophomore year—is sitting at Coach’s desk.
My stomach plummets. This can’t be good. I can’t think of one positive situation that would warrant our coach and the Dean of students to call two hockey players into a meeting this early on a vacation day.
“Take a seat.” Coach orders with a tone that brooks no argument.
Luke and I know better than to argue with Coach Harrison on any day, but in front of the Dean? Our asses hit the chairs opposite Coach’s desk faster than you can say “puck.”
There’s a moment of silence when the Dean takes his time to look from Luke to me.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” he finally says. “Even though I have to say that title is debatable, at least when it comes to one of you two.”
I straighten in my chair. I’m pretty sure the Dean is staring straight at me. What the actual fuck is going on? I have excellent grades and I’m one of the star players on the team. My face is on all the recruiting material and on billboards all over campus. I’m the face of the Star Cove Knights. I take hockey and academics extremely seriously, and I have never failed a drug test in my entire career. Why is the Dean looking at me as if I had just pissed in his cereal?
“Hockey is very important here in Star Cove.” Dean Fletcher states. “We’re a Division One team and have won more Frozen Four titles than any school on the West Coast. Our team is popular on campus and in town. Being a Cove Knight comes with local fame and great popularity, and it should be considered a privilege.”
I don’t disagree with anything he’s saying. It’s obvious that the Dean thinks we—I, by the way he’s staring at me—have done something to tarnish the school and the team’s reputation in some way. I rack my brain, wondering what that could be, but come up empty.
“Other students look up to you, and your behavior is a direct reflection of the values this institution upholds and strives to instill in every student that sets foot on our campus.”
I’ve always admired Luke as a friend and as a player. He has my respect as team captain. He also has the biggest pair of balls on this side of the Pacific, because he dares to speak during the Dean’s tirade.
“I couldn’t agree more, sir. I can assure you we’re well aware of the privilege of being part of this team and of attending one of the best Ivy League colleges in the country.”
If this was anyone else, I’d think they were brown nosing to get the Dean’s favor. But I know that Luke is just being honest. His school spirit is unmatched. That’s one of the many reasons why he was voted team captain unanimously after Cole Marshall graduated last year.
However, Luke’s words don’t seem to do anything to appease Dean Fletcher.
The school administrator touches a tablet I hadn’t noticed on the desk, pushing the device toward us.
“Then I’m sure you understand my surprise when I saw these social media posts.”
I see my own face on the screen. I have my arms around two girls at the first Gamma Delta Tau party this fall semester. I’m kissing one girl and my hand falls on the other girl’s tit. That was a wild night.
“Sir, I don’t—” I begin, but the Dean’s scowl deepens.
“There’s more. Go ahead. Look.”
