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

me guess: you play centre.”
    “Yeah. I’m on the top line at UMaine.”
    That was bullshit. No way a guy this young was on the top line at a top school, although I still didn’t know his exact age. What was certain was that Jim-Jam was pretty conceited. I stopped pitying his lack of social skills and looked out the window. It was pretty, lots of green and occasional glimpses of rivers.
    “So, are you the cook or something?” he asked.
    “The cook? That is such a sexist assumption. I have hockey equipment, why wouldn’t I be a hockey instructor?”
    He grinned, “I knew I could get you to talk if I got you mad again.”
    I couldn’t help laughing; he was kind of funny in a goofy way.
    “So, where do you play hockey? At a U.S. college?” he asked.
    I shook my head. “I play at McGill.”
    “Oh yeah? How good is McGill?”
    “We’re good. I think we have a decent shot at the C.I.S. championship this year.” We came close last season, and most of our players were returning.
    “Same here, last season, the Black Bears had our best—” He stopped talking and frowned. “Uh, do you like Taylor Swift?”
    “She’s okay, I guess.”
    “What’s your favourite movie?” What was it with all these random questions?
    “ Slapshot,” I replied.
    “No way, really? I like that too. How about television, what’s your favourite TV show?”
    “What is this, Twenty Questions? Why don’t we just talk about hockey? Did you watch the playoffs?”
    “You want to talk about the playoffs? Really?”
    “Yeah, did you not think the series momentum completely shifted when Conklin let in that goal?”
    He nodded and we talked hockey for the rest of the bus ride. It saved the day.

4
    In Too Deep
    J immy

    W hen the bus pulled up to the camp, Kelly was up and out of there in no time. I knew exactly how she felt; I hated being cooped up for too long. I figured our talk on the bus had gone pretty well and maybe my social skills were already improving and I could check that off my list.
    Burt Iverson and his wife, Trudy, were there to greet us. They handed out schedules and room assignments. I already knew the three guys I was bunking with; most of us had known each other for years from hockey. I overheard Kelly asking about running trails.
    As the last one in my room, I got the bed by the door. I unpacked, and then I headed out to have a look around. Things looked pretty much as they always did. The main lodge and cabins were a camp used by the Boy Scouts in August, and then by different groups the rest of the year. Burt used the lodge for his hockey camp; the arena for the camp was only a 15-minute walk away, through some wooded trails.
    I remembered the first time I went to the camp as a kid. I was so impressed by the instructors and totally pumped at the idea of doing nothing but hockey and hockey-training all week. I heard that lately enrolment was not as good at the camp. People preferred to put their kids in camps with fancy equipment. Burt emphasized hard work and polishing basic skills, which was the most important thing for young players.
    I walked over to the lodge and followed the voices to find the guys on the big deck that overlooked the lake.
    “Holy jeez, check out that ass.”
    “Finally, Ivy is stocking this place with some scenery.”
    “ Merde , she’s taking off her clothes. Well, her shoes anyway, Keep going, bébé.”
    “Seriously, I’m in love. She’s as hot as fuck.”
    “Riley, you’re always in love. You were in love with the waitress at lunch.”
    “You wouldn’t have a chance with her anyways. Outta your league, boy.”
    “Who is she?”
    “It’s Kelly Tanaka,” I answered, as I joined them. “She’s from Vancouver.” Kelly was stretching at the edge of the dock, completely unaware she was being watched by half the staff of the hockey camp. I leaned over the deck rail and joined the group. I could see she was sweaty after her run and she wearing only a tank top and running shorts,