Page 27 of Pucking Bad Boys

The app on my phone tells me that room two eighty-nine is on the second floor on the other side of the building coming from the main entrance.

I’m half an hour early, so I might as well find a seat in the classroom, drink the protein shake I brought from home, and then maybe close my eyes for a few minutes.

Had it been up to me, I would have never chosen such an early class, but the bankruptcy news was a total surprise. Bridgeport U administration thought they had a new investor, but the deal fell through at the eleventh hour. That’s why the athletes were allowed to transfer with full eligibility so far out of the normal transfer window. We had all arranged our accommodation, paid our tuition fees, and registered for classes.

As a result of that disaster, here I am at a new college, playing on my brother’s team, and stuck with the only classes that still had room this late before the beginning of the semester.

“Becks! What are you doing here?”

Speaking of new faces, the only familiar face aside from my brother is the first thing I see as I set foot on the second-floor hallway.

“Gen, what are you doing here?”

As she pulls me into a hug, her expensive, slightly cloying fragrance envelopes me. “I have a class. What else would I be doing here this early?”

Heat rises to my face. That was the stupidest question I could have asked. Gen has always had this effect on me. She makes me nervous.

“What class are you taking?” I ask, taking in her flawless makeup, the shiny dark ponytail that swishes around whenever she moves her head and the tight jeans that look almost like they were painted on her slender body.

“Roman History Through Art.” She doesn’t sound excited.

I show her my phone. “Me too. It was the most interesting elective that still had room and didn’t involve math.” I shudder at the thought of doing any math voluntarily. “If only it didn’t have such a horrible schedule. One class practically at the crack of dawn and one late in the evening.”

“That’s Professor Cantucci for you. She looks so cute and friendly, but deep down she’s a sadistic bitch. And she takes attendance into consideration for your final grade, so skipping class isn’t even an option. If you miss more than two classes during the semester, it’s an automatic fail.”

That sounds like a potential problem. “Seriously?” I groan. “What if a practice runs late or something? I mean, I guess she must understand that athletes have practice and games and stuff.”

“Oh, absolutely not. I would be extremely careful with that.”

I don’t understand. “With what?”

“With pulling the athlete card to justify tardiness or missing a class. Cantucci hates athletes. She hates that they get a lot of preferential treatment around campus, especially hockey players.”

Gen’s eyes travel down my body, and I realize she isn’t admiring me. She’s looking at my Cove Knights branded clothes.

“Fuck,” I bite out, checking the time on my phone. “Maybe I should go change. Now that I know where the building is, if you show me the classroom, I might make it on time.”

Gen slashes my hopes. “You’re living off-campus, right? Didn’t your dad rent you a place in Daddy’s new apartment complex?”

“Yeah.”

“Then there’s no way you’re gonna make it. You’re gonna run into rush hour on your way back, and you don’t want to be late on the first day, trust me. Your best bet is to sit in the back, where she hopefully won’t notice your clothes. Come on, let’s sit together.”

She links her arm with mine and I follow her into the empty classroom.

At least there’s an advantage in being the first ones here. We have our pick of seats.

I follow Gen up the steps of the auditorium style classroom and lower myself into a seat in the middle of the row before last. She sits right next to me.

“Here it’s perfect. Not the very last row, so we don’t look like complete slackers, but far away enough that Cantucci won’t even see us. She’s terribly nearsighted but way too vane to wear glasses, so if you sit far enough in the back, you’re pretty much safe from being called on during class.”

“That sounds weird. Can’t she wear contacts? I do all the time, since glasses get in the way, especially on the ice.”

Gen shrugs. “No idea. Maybe she’s allergic, who knows? But if we sit here, she’ll leave us alone.”

“You seem to know her quite well,” I muse. “Did you take any other classes with her?”

“Actually,” Gen sighs. “This is my second time taking this class.”