Hockey Is My Boyfriend: Part Two Read Online Free Page A

me, mispronounced my name, introduced himself, and directed me to do something.
    “Okay,” I replied, after a long pause. He must have thought I was an idiot.
    I went towards the back of the bus. There were two young guys in the middle and we nodded at each other. On top of the luggage, I saw a familiar Bauer stick bag. Oh great, him again.
    I sat down in the middle section and looked out the window. He came bounding up to the bus, clutching a bottled water and a PowerBar.
    “Thanks for waiting, Mac,” he said.
    “No problemo, Freshy,” said the driver, swinging the door shut and taking off.
    The young guy walked through the bus, looked at me, and did a big fake double take.
    “I cannot believe this,” he said, grinning.
    “What, that someone with hockey equipment would end up at a hockey camp?”
    “No, not only did you take my sticks, but now you took my seat.”
    “Does it have your name on it?” I challenged him.
    He pointed, and too late I noticed his gray hoody on the floor at my feet. “Feel free to throw my stuff on the floor,” he jeered.
    I picked up the hoody and dumped it on the seat in front.
    “I’m sure you’ll find that seat equally comfortable.”
    “I don’t know,” he said, looming over me. Did he want to sit beside me? This bus had lots of seats, no need to share mine. I plopped my pack on the seat beside me. He seemed okay, but kind of weird. Not my type.
    Did I even have a type? Well, maybe like Phil: tall, dark, and fun. And this year, I had finally stuck a toe into the dating pool in Montreal. I met J.P. Denis at the rink. He was also tall, dark, and fun, but way more laid-back than Phil. So laid-back, he barely bothered to let me know he was moving back to Europe to play hockey. We weren’t that serious anyway, and J.P.’s departure hardly bothered me. We had fun while it lasted.
    It took all of five seconds to relive my entire love life. In any case, I was here to get hockey experience and not to pick up guys. Especially not an L.B., I wasn’t into little boys. Besides, I wasn’t really getting a flirty vibe off him—more of a bratty little brother vibe. Although without his hoody, he looked even better.
    He sat down in front of me and immediately turned around. He draped an arm over his seatback, an arm than was tanned and muscular with a bicep so big that it stretched out his t-shirt sleeve. I had time to notice this because he didn’t say anything for ages. His mouth fell slightly open, and he was thinking hard.
    Finally, I felt sorry for him. “Hey, I’m Kelly Tanaka.”
    “I’m Jimm—James,” he said. It sounded like he was going to say Jimmy, but wanted to switch to the more grown-up version of his name.
    “Have you been to this camp before?”
    “Yeah, when I was a kid. But I’ve taught there for two years now.” He paused again. “So, you’re not from around here.”
    “No, I’m from Vancouver. You know, in beautiful British Columbia.”
    “Yeah, I was just in Vancouver—in June.” He said that like it was some big accomplishment and not something anyone with a plane ticket could do. This guy was definitely weird. Too bad, because he was kind of cute. Maybe he was awkward because he was young.
    “How old are you?” I wondered.
    “How old are you ?” he responded with a definite edge in his voice.
    “Nineteen—with a birthday real soon.”
    “Oh yeah, when?”
    “July 21st.”
    “So, then you’ll be twenty.”
    Obviously a math major. “Yeah.”
    My age seemed to stump him for a bit. Then he steered the conversation into a bizarre direction. “Your hair looks good like that.”
    “Um, thank you.” That was something your girlfriend would say after you’d gotten it cut. Maybe they didn’t have scrunchies in New Brunswick?
    There was another long pause, and I jumped in again. “I’m a winger, what position do you play?”
    He snorted. “Oh, a winger. Float around near the goal and benefit from all the centre’s hard work.”
    “Let