Read Online Delayed Penalty: A Pilots Hockey Novel by Sophia Henry - Free Book Online
Authors: Sophia Henry
Ads: Link
shoulder, crawling to shut my bedroom door.
“I’m going through Auden withdrawals,” he whined.
“Okay. I’ll be ready.”
Drew Bertucci and I went to elementary school and high school together. One of my favorite childhood memories was riding our bikes to the sports store three blocks from my house to buy hockey cards when one of us would come in to some birthday or holiday cash. Our friendship survived even after I’d made a fool of myself by writing him a note asking if he wanted to be more than friends.
The lesson: Don’t write down your feelings about a guy. And if you do, don’t ever share them with him. Unless, of course, your heart is made of rubber and you can bounce back from the embarrassing backlash unscathed.
I traded my pj’s for a Liverpool F.C. T-shirt and soccer shorts, then pulled black warm-ups over that. After shoving my cleats and shin guards into my duffel bag, I threw it over my shoulder and wandered into the living room to wait for Drew.
Grandpa was lounging in his recliner when I dropped my bag and parked myself into the chair across from him.
“What are you doing with that?” Grandpa asked, eyeing my soccer duffel.
Evidently, when you’re cut from a team, you can never play that sport again.
“I’m heading over to Kerby to play with some kids from high school.”
“What kids?”
“Drew and the hockey guys,” I answered, knowing my answer would end Grandpa’s interrogation. Drew was on the approved-friends list because our families had known each other since our parents were in high school.
When I heard the three quick honks signaling Drew’s arrival, I grabbed my gear and ran out the door, calling goodbye to Grandpa over my shoulder.
“Hey, Drewseph!” I said, sliding into the passenger seat of his faded red SUV. Drew came from a large Italian family where everyone was a Joseph, except him.
“What’s up, Aud?” Drew asked, alternating looks over his shoulder and in his mirrors as he backed out of the driveway.
“Not much.” I shrugged. “Just working. Viktor set me up with a job for the month.”
“Translating The Communist Manifesto ?”
I laughed. Drew knew all about my previous projects. “No. He let me work with a real person this time. I’m a translator for a hockey player.”
“Really? Who?” Drew, a hockey player himself, had taken the college route. He chose State for their Landscape Design program.
“Aleksandr Varenkov from the Pilots.” I kicked an empty water bottle rolling back and forth on the floor.
“No way.” Drew glanced at me.
“Way,” I replied, happy to be around a friend I’d known so long that we had inside jokes. When we were in eighth grade, we’d had a movie marathon. Since neither of us could drive, we had to choose movies from his dad’s collection. We’d picked Wayne’s World, Tommy Boy, and Billy Madison. Absolute classics. People still quoting them today is totally understandable.
“I heard he’s—” Drew began.
“Douchey?” I supplied.
Drew snorted. “Exactly.”
“He’s not so bad. I’ve learned how to rein him in.”
“I bet. He’s got a reputation with you ladies.”
“Oh my gosh, Drew! That’s not what I was talking about.” I smacked his thigh. “I meant, Viktor will kick his arrogant Russian ass if he steps out of line.”
“Okay, good. I don’t want to hear that you were one of his conquests.”
“He knows I’m not a bunny.”
“You’re a hot girl hanging around hockey players. To them you’re a bunny.”
Frowning, I gave Drew a sidelong glance. “For my job,” I emphasized.
“Don’t get involved with him, Auden.”
The big-brother role, which I’d appreciated every other time he’d played it, annoyed me now. Where did he get off trying to interfere in my dating life? I held back my anger, as I always did with my friends. I didn’t have very many, so there was no reason to rock the boat with the close ones I had.
“You don’t have to worry about that. I
“I’m going through Auden withdrawals,” he whined.
“Okay. I’ll be ready.”
Drew Bertucci and I went to elementary school and high school together. One of my favorite childhood memories was riding our bikes to the sports store three blocks from my house to buy hockey cards when one of us would come in to some birthday or holiday cash. Our friendship survived even after I’d made a fool of myself by writing him a note asking if he wanted to be more than friends.
The lesson: Don’t write down your feelings about a guy. And if you do, don’t ever share them with him. Unless, of course, your heart is made of rubber and you can bounce back from the embarrassing backlash unscathed.
I traded my pj’s for a Liverpool F.C. T-shirt and soccer shorts, then pulled black warm-ups over that. After shoving my cleats and shin guards into my duffel bag, I threw it over my shoulder and wandered into the living room to wait for Drew.
Grandpa was lounging in his recliner when I dropped my bag and parked myself into the chair across from him.
“What are you doing with that?” Grandpa asked, eyeing my soccer duffel.
Evidently, when you’re cut from a team, you can never play that sport again.
“I’m heading over to Kerby to play with some kids from high school.”
“What kids?”
“Drew and the hockey guys,” I answered, knowing my answer would end Grandpa’s interrogation. Drew was on the approved-friends list because our families had known each other since our parents were in high school.
When I heard the three quick honks signaling Drew’s arrival, I grabbed my gear and ran out the door, calling goodbye to Grandpa over my shoulder.
“Hey, Drewseph!” I said, sliding into the passenger seat of his faded red SUV. Drew came from a large Italian family where everyone was a Joseph, except him.
“What’s up, Aud?” Drew asked, alternating looks over his shoulder and in his mirrors as he backed out of the driveway.
“Not much.” I shrugged. “Just working. Viktor set me up with a job for the month.”
“Translating The Communist Manifesto ?”
I laughed. Drew knew all about my previous projects. “No. He let me work with a real person this time. I’m a translator for a hockey player.”
“Really? Who?” Drew, a hockey player himself, had taken the college route. He chose State for their Landscape Design program.
“Aleksandr Varenkov from the Pilots.” I kicked an empty water bottle rolling back and forth on the floor.
“No way.” Drew glanced at me.
“Way,” I replied, happy to be around a friend I’d known so long that we had inside jokes. When we were in eighth grade, we’d had a movie marathon. Since neither of us could drive, we had to choose movies from his dad’s collection. We’d picked Wayne’s World, Tommy Boy, and Billy Madison. Absolute classics. People still quoting them today is totally understandable.
“I heard he’s—” Drew began.
“Douchey?” I supplied.
Drew snorted. “Exactly.”
“He’s not so bad. I’ve learned how to rein him in.”
“I bet. He’s got a reputation with you ladies.”
“Oh my gosh, Drew! That’s not what I was talking about.” I smacked his thigh. “I meant, Viktor will kick his arrogant Russian ass if he steps out of line.”
“Okay, good. I don’t want to hear that you were one of his conquests.”
“He knows I’m not a bunny.”
“You’re a hot girl hanging around hockey players. To them you’re a bunny.”
Frowning, I gave Drew a sidelong glance. “For my job,” I emphasized.
“Don’t get involved with him, Auden.”
The big-brother role, which I’d appreciated every other time he’d played it, annoyed me now. Where did he get off trying to interfere in my dating life? I held back my anger, as I always did with my friends. I didn’t have very many, so there was no reason to rock the boat with the close ones I had.
“You don’t have to worry about that. I
Similar Books
