Shut Out (Bayard Hockey #1)(33)

She laughs softly. “Oh, I consented. Jacob, you…you were perfect last night.”

Huh. My chest expands. “Of course I was.” Then I smile. “Although, I could have been better.”

I hear her chuckle.

But I’m not as confident as I try to make out. I’m full of self-doubts and memories about the night that nearly flushed my hockey career down the toilet. “So tonight.”

“Mmm, yeah?”

“I think we should go to the library.”

“Okay.”

I’m suggesting this because I know if I take her back to my place, we’ll have to go to my room to get any peace and quiet, and I also know what that could lead to. I have no idea what’s happening at her place, but regardless, the library seems safest.

“Sure. If you still want to do that.”

I grimace and rub the back of my neck. “Not that I want to, but I need to.”

“I can meet you there…around seven?”

I want more than that, but I nod. “Sounds good. See you at seven.”

At home I make myself a sandwich in the kitchen, using the last of the turkey. I add a little mayo, some tomatoes, a bunch of lettuce, then, what the hell, I layer some sliced dill pickles in there. I take a big bite and chew. Huh. Not bad.

Buck enters the kitchen. I survey his dark jeans and pristine white shirt. He’s a laundry master. “Going out tonight?”

“Yeah.” He makes a face. “Got a date.”

“Shut the f*ck up. Seriously?”

He flips me off for sounding so shocked. I grin.

“Where are you going?”

“Library.”

“What the f*ck? On a Saturday night? Are you sure the library’s even open?”

I am, because I already went online to check, since I wasn’t sure before. “Yeah. I’m meeting Skylar there.”

“Ah.”

This makes my plans acceptable. I have to grin. This is working great. Win goddamn win.

She’s sitting on the big stone steps of the library in the near-dusk when I arrive there, her blond and pink hair waving down over her shoulders. Her skinny jeans, black Converse, and black Bayard hoodie make her look about twelve years old. But I know she’s not. I’ve seen every inch of her sexy body and she is all woman, and hot as hell.

Christ. I can’t be thinking things like that.

I walk toward her and she looks up. Her golden eyes and wide smile beam at me, and she pushes up to stand, lifting her bag.

“Hey.”

“Hey, you.”

We walk in together and find a table in the not surprisingly empty reading room. It’s quiet and it makes my skin itch. I’m way more comfortable on the ice with guys yelling as we practice drills or play a game. I’m buzzing with restless energy. How the hell am I going to sit here for a few hours and actually read something? And retain it?

We get our books out from our bookbags. Skylar retrieves a hot-pink highlighter and a sticky note, which she smoothes out and studies.

“What’s that?”

“My to-do list.”

Huh.

“I like lists,” she adds. “They keep me focused.”

“Sure.”

She bends her head to her textbook, highlighter in hand. I stare at her, mesmerized by her hair yet again, my mind drifting into fantasies…damn.

I shake my head and open my own textbook. I read the words. Nothing sinks in.

Someone who’s under the influence of drugs or alcohol can’t consent. Her judgment is impaired.

Christ. I’m remembering stuff from the training. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, actually. I shake my head and try to focus.

“Are you okay?”

I look up at Skylar’s whispered question. “Yeah. Why?”

“You seem…antsy.”

I grimace. Damn. “I’m okay.”

She eyes me, but nods and bends her head again.

I remember the discussion about rape culture. Situations where sexual assault, rape, and general violence are ignored, trivialized, normalized, or made into jokes.

I’m reliving that night. Now that I’ve heard the four steps of the Step In program, I’m thinking of what I could have done differently. Shitdamnf*ck.

Skylar’s head snaps up and her eyes lock on me in a frown. “Now what?”

“What?” I gaze back in confusion.

“Why are you swearing? Is there something you don’t understand?”

Hell, I cursed out loud. I close my eyes. “No. It’s Mechanics of Solids. I understand it fine.”

“Well, good, because I sure can’t help you. In fact, I’m having a hard time with this.”

“What?”

“Quantum mechanics.”

“Ah, that’s easy.”

She gives a delicate snort. “For Einstein, maybe.”

“Ha. I’m no Einstein, but maybe I can explain.”

I read over what she’s studying and paraphrase it for her, finishing with, “So, to change the color of a radiating body, you have to change its temperature.”

She peers at me with a crease between her eyes.

“Increasing the temperature of a body allows it to emit more energy overall, and means that a larger proportion of the energy is toward the violet end of the spectrum.” I lift an eyebrow at her. “Red hot, baby.”