Mickey starts spilling all the details, but I don’t catch them because the fire trucks pull up and the real chaos begins. Before I know it, Josie’s gone back to her dorm and I’m standing in thestreet with half my teammates, watching the scene unfold. We’re all kind of staring at the hockey house, waiting for flames to start shooting out as the place collapses to the ground.
Miraculously, it doesn’t. I can’t even see any fire. Just lots of smoke and lots of water.
“I can’t get a straight story from anybody,” Santos grumbles as he walks toward me. “Mickey’s in total meltdown mode, Norris took off, and the rest of us followed firetrucks to our front door. You want to tell me what the hell happened?”
I shrug. “No clue, man. One minute I had Josie in my arms, and the next minute, the smoke alarms and sprinklers are going off.”
Santos’s eyes bug out of his head, and I’m wondering if that’s because he can’t believe somebody managed to set fire to this place or if he’s shocked that Josie was up in my room with me.
We don’t have to wait too long to get the story on how the fire started, though, because Ollie broadcasts it to the whole neighborhood. He’s a high-energy guy, but screaming at someone in the middle of the street isn’t usually his style. Right now, though, he’s tearing Mickey a new one. And he might be justified.
“How in the hell do you light a fucking couch on fire?”
26
Van
Setting my tray down at the big table by the window, I take a seat and wait for Pete to finish his conversation with Coach. We’re meeting the rest of the guys here for lunch like we always do, but since my class ended early and Pete’s done for the day, we’re here ahead of time.
“Yep, will do. Thanks, Coach.” Pete sets his phone down and looks at me. “We’re cleared to go back in.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. We were gone all weekend, but when we got back Sunday night, we weren’t allowed in the house so we all scattered in various directions. A couple guys stayed with Booker at the Chapel, and I know Coach and his wife let players stay there, too. Pete’s originally from Syracuse, but he lives close by now, so we crashed at his mom’s house. I’m kinda glad we got to go, honestly. Pete’s mom has been through hell the last couple years. She’s a two-time breast cancer survivor and one of the best people I know. She went for a checkup a few weeks ago, and found out the cancer is back. We know she’s gonna beat it again because she's a damn warrior, but the whole situation sucks. Pete and I did some stuff around the house forher and kept his brothers busy so she could rest. I definitely wish Mickey hadn’t set the couch on fire, but I’m glad I got to help out.
“Nice,” I say. “So…is Coach going to feed Mickey to an actual wolf? Because the guys voted this weekend and I think that’s the punishment they decided on.”
Pete laughs. “I have no doubt that was Ollie’s idea. But nah, I think Mickey’s spared for now, at least from Coach’s wrath. I’m thinking we make him do all our laundry for a month. Does that seem fair?”
I take a bite of grilled chicken and think it over. “I don’t know, man, he lit the couch on fire because he was making S’mores and he was too lazy to go into the kitchen and use the burners.”
Pete gives me a look. “I’m not so sure that’s safe, either. And how the hell was he making S’mores in the living room? I never got that part of the story.”
I shake my head. “You know how Will’s mom is always sending us stuff? Well, she sent one of those big-ass candles last week. It’s one big jar, but it’s got, like, five candle wicks or whatever you call them. I guess he lit that and was using it to roast his marshmallows. But then he saw a commercial where they pour the soda in a glass and it gets all fizzy. And there’s all that good nugget ice, you know? That made him thirsty, so he went back into the kitchen, but I guess when he got up, he must’ve tipped the candle over without realizing it because when he walked back into the living room, the couch was up in flames.”
“No shit,” Pete mutters, shaking his head. “The damn thing’s polyester. I bet it went up in no time. It’s a fucking wonder he wasn’t hurt.”
“Thank God for nugget ice?” I joke. “I’m not sure what’s more of a mess—our house or the people who live there,” I say just as my phone pings with a text.
“That Josie?” Pete asks, his voice hopeful.
I shake my head and tap the button on my phone. An automated voice says, “Message from Ollie. Running late, dude. Be there in ten.”
“Nah, man,” I answer. “We’re right back where we were before. We’ve had a couple sessions this week, and she’s all business. She hasn’t said a word about Thursday night. She’s acting like it never happened. What the hell?” I ask, forking an asparagus spear with a little too much force.
“Maybe she’s waiting for you to start the conversation?” Pete asks.
I know he’s just being nice and trying to help, but it’s not working. “No way. My intentions were perfectly clear. And I know that she’s just as attracted to me as I am to her, so it’s her play,” I say, stabbing at another bite of food.
“Dude, why are you mad at the veggies? What did that zucchini ever do to you?”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh. “I’m not mad at anyone—not my food and sure as hell not Josie. Maybe it’s better this way? Hell, I don’t know. It doesn’t feel better. But the thing is, I want more with her. So much more. And if that’s not what she wants, then maybe it’s best if we don’t start things up again.”
Pete’s eyes go wide and his bushy eyebrows nearly disappear into his untamed hair. “Really?”
“Yes, really. How is this news? I want it all—a real relationship. If she can’t do that, fine. I’ll be cool with it, but I won’t be her boy toy.”
My best friend stays quiet, but he’s looking right at me.
“Okay, no. I will totally go along with whatever she wants. I’ll take Josie any way I can get her. But I’ll hold out as long as possible.”
