“The red witch? No way. She gave birth to a gross shadow creature. That pussy’s tainted, dude.”
“Spoiler alert!” Wilkes says irritably. “I was planning on starting season one this weekend!”
“Don’t bother,” Fitzy advises. “The show sucks. Read the books instead.”
“I swear to God, if you tell us to ‘read the books’ one more time, I’m going to strangle you,” Corsen announces. “I mean it. I’ll straight up strangle you, Colin.”
Our resident nerd shrugs. “Can’t help it if the books are better.”
I don’t join in, but secretly I agree with Fitz. The books are better. Though I doubt anyone will believe me if I said I read ’em. With the exception of my roommates, most of my teammates don’t take me seriously. I’m pretty sure they think I’m only attending Harvard Law because my rich parents bought my way in. Doesn’t bother me, if I’m being honest. I get a kick out of it when people underestimate my intelligence. Half the time I willingly play into the dumb blond stereotype, just for funsies.
As the chatter continues, I tune everyone out and reach for my phone. I don’t know what compels me to open the Facebook app and search her name. I’m on autopilot, barely aware of what I’m doing until the search results pop up.
There are dozens of Miranda O’Sheas on Facebook, but none of them are the one I’m looking for.
I do another search, this time with her name and the words “Duke University.” I have no idea if she even goes there, but it seems like a good place to start. When we were dating, all Miranda ever talked about was how much she wanted to get into Duke.
This time her profile appears on the screen.
I study the small thumbnail pic. She hasn’t changed in four years. She still has the same round face, the same unruly dark curls, the same brown eyes.
To my dismay, her profile is private. I can’t see anything except her profile pic and cover photo, which is a generic beach landscape. I stare at the little green button at the top of the page.
Add friend.
I don’t know what possesses me to click it. But I do.
With the friend request sent, I turn off the app and put my phone away. Tucker isn’t on his anymore either. He’s leaning back against the headrest with his eyes closed, and I decide to follow his lead. We’ve got two more hours until we reach Boston, then another hour to Hastings. Might as well get some sleep and try to forget tonight’s disastrous game.
The nap does the trick. I wake up feeling centered and relaxed, and when I peer out the window and wait for the next road sign to appear, I discover we’re only a half hour from campus.
In the seat beside me, Tucker is also awake, typing on his phone again.
“Dude, are you dating someone?” I can’t stop myself from asking. I’ve barely seen Tucker lately, and we live in the same house.
“No,” he says dismissively.
“You sure about that?”
“I think I would know if I was dating someone.” But there’s an odd note in his voice, which I can’t for the life of me decipher.
“Where’ve you been, then? You’re never home anymore.”
Tucker shrugs. “I go to class. Study at the library. Chill in my room.” He pauses. “I crashed at a friend’s place in Boston a few times.”
“What friend?”
Before he can answer, my phone rings, and I swear he looks relieved. I make a note to cross-examine him again later. It’ll be good practice for law school.
I pick up when I see Beau’s name and give him the usual greeting. “Maxwell. What’s shaking?”
“Hey. How was the game?” Loud music blasts in the background, but I can hear him loud and clear.
“Shitty.”
“Yeah. I read the recap on the college sports blog. You got your asses kicked.”
“Why’d you even ask how it went if you already knew the answer?”
“I was being polite.”
I have to snicker.
“Anyway, party at my place tonight. I know it’s late, but I’m still extending an invite. Figured you might need something to help take your mind off the beating you got from Yale.”
I consider it, but only briefly. “Naah. Thanks, but I’m not in the mood.” A tired breath slips out. “It’s been a crap night.”
“All the more reason for you to come out. It’s a hot girl smorgasbord in here. And you know women—they can’t resist a mopey, brooding man. Tell them how sad you are about losing your game, and they’ll be begging you to let them make you feel better.” He pauses. “Wait. Unless you’re still dealing with…ah, equipment malfunctions?”
“Nope. We’re all better now.”
“Nice! Does that mean Bella finally threw you another bone?”
“Bella?” I say blankly.
“Yeah, you know, the chick you imprinted on.”
I chuckle. “Right. Yeah, she did.” I keep my response vague, because Tucker is right there and he’s not allowed to know about Allie and me. And…shit. I guess that means I’m not allowed to harass him for being so secretive lately, what with this pot/kettle situation we’re in.
“Good, then you’re all fixed. Now come over and put that newly functioning dong to good use.”
“Naah,” I say again. “I’m really not feeling it.” But I am feeling something else, because as usual, the mere thought of Allie gets me hard. “We’ll connect sometime this week. Go out for beers or something.”
“Sounds good. Later, bro.”
The second we hang up, I open a new text box. It’ll be nearly one a.m. by the time I get home. That’s absolutely booty call territory, but it’s Saturday night and Allie doesn’t have classes tomorrow, so I figure I’m safe.
Me: u + me = wild animal sex 2nite?
She responds right away. Good, she’s still up.
Her: u = tempting – me = already in bed ÷ sleep.
Me: Why the division sign??
Her: I don’t know. I was trying to answer in math. Bottom line: I’m in bed.
Me: Perfect. That’s right where I want u to be. I’ll be there in 45.
Her: U can’t. Hannah’s home.
Me: We’ll be very, very quiet. She won’t even know I’m there.
There’s a short delay, and even before her answer appears, I know it’s going to be a no.
Her: Don’t want 2 risk it. Let’s wait for a nite we can be alone.
Me: U have no sense of adventure.
Her: U have no patience.
Me: Not when it comes to u.
Her: We had sex 3 times last nite! I’m sure that’ll tide u over til we see each other again.
Me: And when will that be?
Her: Tomorrow nite maybe? I’ll let u know.
Me: Fine.
Me: Btw—totally gonna think of u when I’m jerking off 2nite.
Her: That’s cool. I just fingered myself and pretended it was u.
I groan out loud.
Tucker swivels his head toward me. He looks at my face, then my phone, then rolls his eyes. “Seriously, man? You’re sexting right beside me? Get a room.”
I wish I could get a room. Allie’s room, to be exact. But clearly that’s not in the cards tonight. And now, thanks to that little cocktease, I get to spend the rest of the bus ride with a stiffy.
16
Dean
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Dakota skips around the equipment room like a tiny pixie, while I stack helmets on the shelf in front of me.
Since the boys’ locker room isn’t exclusive to the hockey team—it’s also the one used by every other male student at Hastings Elementary—that means all the hockey gear needs to be stored in this equipment room. As assistant coach, it’s my job to put it all away.
“Well, do you?” she demands when I take longer than two seconds to respond.
I glance at her over my shoulder. “No, I don’t. And shouldn’t you be doing your homework right now?” Not that I mind her company. Dakota is highly entertaining.
She hops up onto the closed lid of a large storage container and sits cross-legged. “Don’t have any homework today.” Twirling the end of her blond ponytail, she chews loudly on her gum, blows a big pink bubble, then says, “Why not?”
“Why not what?” I shove the last helmet on the shelf and turn toward her.
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
“Because I don’t.”
“Have you ever had a girlfriend?”
“Sure. I’ve had lots.” Well, not since I started college, but I don’t tell Dakota that. It probably isn’t appropriate to reveal to a ten-year-old girl that I’ve been single for the last few years because I was busy screwing my way through Briar.
Speaking of screwing, if I don’t get some action soon, I swear to God my balls will explode. I didn’t end up seeing Allie on Sunday, and she wasn’t able to meet up yesterday either. She’s been busy with rehearsals and mentioned something about needing to make an audition tape, but I’m starting to wonder if she’s dodging me. She’d better not be, because I’m not ready for this…fling? Sure, fling. I’m not ready for this fling to end.
“You know my brother Robbie?” Dakota asks in a hushed voice.
I snicker loudly. “No, kid, I don’t know Robbie. I just coach his team.”