A DEAL WITH THE CAPTAIN

2.CASSANOVA

CHAPTER TWO

HUNTER’S POV

CASSANOVA

I just made history for Redwood University's hockey program. Youngest captain the team has ever had and that too, I just led the team into the semi-finals. Who in their right mind wouldn't take a moment to bask in that? I lean against the bar, tequila in hand, slowly surveying the sea of students packed into Ray's. The place is louder than a damn arena. Music blares from the speakers, people are chanting our names every few minutes, and every other table seems to have a fresh round of drinks arriving. It's the kind of night you dream about as an athlete. The university hasn't had this much hockey fever in years, and for once, we're the center of it all.

"Another shot," I say, sliding my empty glass across the counter.

Lisa doesn't bother hiding the glare she sends me. She pours the tequila anyway. Not a single smile. The second the glass leaves her hand, she turns to the next customer and suddenly manages to fake one well enough to earn a decent tip.

Cute.

Of course I know who Lisa Carter is. You'd have to be living under a rock not to. For the longest time she was the undisputed queen of Redwood's figure skating team; the girl everyone expected to become captain without question. Then life decided to screw her over. Verity got the captaincy instead, and the rumors spread across campus faster than wildfire. Some people blamed her breakup with Bill Turner. Others said she'd lost focus after the whole cheating scandal. Whatever the truth was, she went from being the obvious choice to coming in second, and around here, second place might as well be invisible. Especially in a very competitive sport like figure skating.

It's exactly why relationships have never appealed to me. I've worked too damn hard to get where I am. Years of brutal practices, a few busted ribs, torn muscles, early mornings, and coaches screaming in my face weren't about to be jeopardized because I got emotionally attached to somebody's daughter. Best-case scenario? She becomes a distraction. Worst-case scenario? She decides revenge is more fun than romance and suddenly your career is collateral damage. No thanks. Casual is simple and fun. There are never any questions asked. Casualness doesn't break your concentration before the biggest game of your life. I mean, the amount of s**t I’ve seen people in relationships get to the point that it ruins their life, is uncountable. Yeah, I’m wasting my time or anyone else's. I’m perfectly fine by myself.

"Dude." Darren appears beside me, already halfway through his beer. He subtly jerks his chin toward a booth tucked away in the corner,"Out-of-towner. I heard she's from Colombia Law or something. Passing through with some friends."

I follow his line of sight. A group of four girls occupies the booth alongside what looks like another couple. They're laughing over cocktails, completely oblivious to the attention they're attracting. Because believe me, we are not the only ones interested.

Well, almost completely oblivious. One of them immediately catches my eye. She is a blonde, long hair spilling over one shoulder and olive skin with legs that seem to go on forever. She isn't dressed like she's trying to impress anyone, which somehow makes her stand out even more. As if she feels me looking, her eyes lift and instantly our gazes lock. She studies me for a second longer than most people do after recognizing me, then calmly looks away and returns to her conversation.

There is no blushing or whispering to her friends. Hell, not even an obvious attempt to get my attention. Don’t you just love a good challenge? A grin tugs at the corner of my mouth. This night just got a whole lot interesting and I’m loving it.

"Looks like I'm not sleeping alone tonight," I murmur.

Darren lets out a bark of laughter before clapping me on the shoulder.

"That's what I'm talking about."

But then again, Darren is hardly one to judge. He's just as much of a manwhore as I’m- actually, scratch that. He's probably worse. More than half the hockey team has a reputation for treating relationships like penalties: avoid them whenever possible.

"Typical," Lisa mutters under her breath as she wipes down the counter.

I don't even spare her a glance. She is not worth a lick of my attention. And I’m in a way too good mood to give a s**t about what she has to say. I've already pushed away from the bar, Darren falling into step beside me as we make our way towards the corner booth.