Page 11
Story: Guarded By the Goalie
See? Fanboy.
I don’t even look to see who he’s talking to, I’m just ready to get out of here. Unfortunately, I’m barely ten feet away when I realize I left my scarf in the room. Crap.
My aunt knitted the scarf for me when she heard I was coming up north for college. It’s yellow and black, Wittmore colors, and made of the softest yarn. I’ll slip in and out. No big deal.
I hear the voices before I step back in the room.
“Congrats to you too, brother.”
“What do you mean?” Eric asks.
“She’s a jersey chaser, but with the freeze out, she’ll probably happily fuck you.” I recognize this voice too. Austin–Wittmore’s superstar tight end–we hooked up for a few weeks in September. Right before Brent started texting me.
“Just make sure you wrap it up,” Rocky adds. I can hear the smugness in his voice. “That cunt has taken a lot of dick.”
“At least get a blow job,” Austin adds. “Her tits look fantastic when she’s on her knees.”
Not wanting to hear another word, I turn on my heel and rush out, leaving my scarf and dignity behind. Whatever hope I had about moving on with my life vanishes in a heartbeat, and I only have myself to blame.
“Just stay for an hour,then we can go home,” Twyler says, pushing open the door to the Badger Den, Wittmore’s popular hockey bar. “Please?”
I’m not sure when Twyler and I swapped lives. I guess around the time Reese Cain kissed her in the coffee shop and swept her off her dirty sneakered feet. I’ve always been the one up for a party or closing out one of the off campus bars, but in the last month it’s been hard for me to get the energy up for socializing. It all seems so pointless.
But I also know I dragged her out countless times when she didn’t want to go, and even with the captain at her side, she still feels socially awkward in bars and at parties. I owe her for having my back all those times she just wanted to stay home and binge true crime documentaries.
Tonight, the bar is crowded, mostly filled with guys from the team. As captain, Reese plans these bonding nights, where they all hang out after practice to chill out and build relationships. After a few hours, girlfriends and puck bunnies show up to join in.
“Twy!” Reid calls out, grinning as we approach the bar. “You made it.”
Reese hears his girlfriend’s name and turns, his eyes sweeping over her. God, to have a man look at me the way Reese Cain looks at Twyler. He pulls her close and drops a kiss on her mouth.
“Hey, Nadia,” Reid says, leaning against the bar.
“Reid, how are you?”
“Not as good as those two,” he says, eyes darting back to the couple. Reese’s hand slides down Twyler’s back, never quite going into PDA territory. She’d cut his balls off. “But otherwise I can’t complain. Still undefeated.”
Hockey. The only barometer that really matters. Once upon a time, I’d been interested in Reid. He’s a year younger, but he’shot, with the most adorable dimples. I’d asked Twyler to give her permission for me to pursue him earlier in the fall. My one-time hockey player pass. She’d agreed, but only if we went on a real date. We did–sort of–and it was fine, but the sparks weren’t there.
It’s okay. It’s kind of nice having a group that’s off limits for me. I know it. They know it. It’s a safe place and right now I need more of those.
“You want a drink?” he asks, holding his hand up to get the bartender's attention.
“Nah,” I say. “I’m good.”
His eyebrows raise but he shrugs. “Water? Soda?”
“Yeah, sure, water with lemon would be great.”
He leans over the bar and orders the drink from the bartender, before turning back to me.
“Undefeated, huh?” I ask. It’s a big deal. They narrowly lost the championship last year and the guys are incredibly focused. “Sounds like you’re a lock for the finals.”
“If we can keep our shit together,” Jefferson says, turning away from the game playing on the big screen over the bar. He and Reid exchange a look.
Sensing a vibe, I ask, “Something happen?”
“Someone made a report to the NCAA and they did a surprise drug testing. A few guys got busted,” Jefferson says.
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