The Risk (Briar U #2)(72)

When a porn site appears on the screen, I’m quick to issue another warning. “You better get out of there before Coach comes in.”

He glances at the clock mounted over the door. “We have ten minutes, and he’s never early. Coach is an on-the-dot kinda guy.”

That’s true, but that doesn’t mean I want to be looking at porn on university property.

Brooks clicks the search bar and keys in “bubble butt,” and we’re not surfing porn anymore. We’re surfing gay porn. Awesome.

“There!” Brooks says triumphantly. “This is what she says it looks like!” He clicks on a thumbnail labeled: bubble butt gets pounded.

Coby groans. “Bro, I don’t want to see this shit.”

But Brooks pauses the scene before the sex gets underway. In fact, there’s still only one dude in the frame, a tall Nordic blond who decides to take all his clothes off in a jiu-jitsu studio because that’s what real people do.

Brooks zooms in on the guy’s behind. And okay, I’m not going to lie—his butt cheeks do resemble two bubbles. The rest of his body is lean and ripped, so those tight globes really do attract the eye.

“It’s the first thing I notice when I look at him,” Coby admits. “My eyes go right to the ass.”

“Mine too,” I say. “That’s weird, right?”

“Is this me?” Brooks demands. “Because if it is, I’m pissed. Look at it. It’s completely disproportional to the rest of his body.”

“Dude, we just told you, we don’t pay attention to your butt,” I say irritably. “We can’t compare.”

“Fine, here.”

He turns around and drops trou.

At the same time Coach Pedersen enters the room.

Coach stumbles to a stop. His gaze travels from the naked man on the screen to Weston’s bare ass. Then he scowls at the rest of us. “What the hell is wrong with you idiots?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” Brooks tries to reassure him.

“Really? Because it looks like you’re trying to compare your ass to the one up there, and the answer to that is, yes, they’re identical. Now zip up your goddamn pants, turn that garbage off, and take a seat, Weston.”

My teammate appears genuinely devastated as he pulls up his pants. “I have a bubble butt, you guys. I feel like my whole life has been a lie.”

Our goalie Johansson snickers. “Plastic surgery’s always an option.”

“Enough,” Coach snaps. “We don’t have time for this shit. We’re facing off against Jensen and his crew in five days. It’ll be televised on all the New England stations, and I’m hearing rumors about HockeyNet, too. So tell me, do you want to make fools of yourselves or do you want to win?”

“We want to win,” everyone mumbles.

“Do you want to jerk off to Weston’s ass or do you want to win?”

We raise our voices. “We want to win!”

“Good. Then shut the hell up and pay attention.”





After the meeting, Pedersen stops me before I can follow the rest of my teammates out the door. “Connelly, stay behind.”

I shove my hands in my pockets as I walk over. “What’s up, Coach?”

“Have a seat.” Based on his harsh expression, I’m obviously not in store for a pep talk. Once I’m seated, he stands in front of me, arms crossed over his bulky chest. “What’s going on with you, Jake?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, what’s going on with you? You were off at morning skate today. Two seconds slower than usual. Granted, that’s still faster than an average player, but it’s slow for you.”

“I was distracted,” I admit.

“And this afternoon? Normally when you show up early, I walk in and you’re already leading the meeting, going over tape. Instead I walk in and Weston is shaking his ass in front of everyone and you’re watching gay porn.”

“We weren’t watching gay porn,” I assure him. “We were just…” I trail off.

Because he’s right. I’m always deeply focused on the game. It’s a single-minded dedication that’s been with me since I was old enough to skate. I lead team meetings. I show up early, offer extra help to guys who need it. I sacrifice my own time, my own sleep, and my own schoolwork to ensure that every weapon on our team is locked, loaded, and in working order.

For the past five days, my head hasn’t been in it. And maybe five days doesn’t sound like a long time in the grand scheme of things, but it is when you only have five more to prepare for arguably the most important game of the season. Not the second most important, because that’s operating on the assumption that the Frozen Four is a given, and it isn’t. We need to beat Briar in order to move forward; therefore, this is the most important game, and the only thing that should matter at the moment.

“You’re right,” I tell him. “I haven’t been as focused as I should be.”

“What’s going on? School? Do we need to set you up with a tutor?”

“No, I’m good with all that. A couple final papers left to write, but I’m not having any trouble. They’re not due till May, anyway.”

“So what is it? Shit at home?”