CHAPTER FOUR
Simple, yet effective
JAKE
My ego is bruised.
I’m not the kind of guy who gets his feelings hurt when a girl turns him down. At least I thought I wasn’t.
It’s been days since that fiery brunette left my bed and I can’t get her out of my head. Not to sound too cocky or anything, but I’ve never had an issue with scoring. On the ice or in the bedroom.
If I walked outside right now and asked the first girl I saw to go on a date with me, she’d say yes without question, I have no doubt in my mind about that. If you’re on a sports team at BCU, you’re guaranteed girls.
But for some reason, this girl— this one girl —has ruined me.
Vanessa has been stuck in my head all fucking day and Coach Wilson has been ripping me a new one all throughout practice. It’s like I can’t get her rejection out of my head. I mean, why would she say no to getting coffee with me? Is my reputation really so bad that it’s now deterring girls?
Definitely not.
Normally, if a girl rejects me—which rarely happens—I brush it off and move on to the next. Except this time. It’s like I’m on a boat out at sea being lured by a siren call. The siren being Vanessa.
I’m just surprised Vanessa had no idea who I was. I guess I’m not as popular on campus as I thought. Or she was just pretending she didn’t know me.
Unless this girl lives under a rock or doesn’t give a fuck about school sports, she must’ve heard my name on campus before.
Maybe that is what’s drawing me to her, the obliviousness. It’s a little refreshing. I’m used to people coming up to me and automatically knowing my name and my stats from the season.
The look on Vanessa’s face the other morning showed me that maybe she didn’t have any clue who I was. She did, however, look like she was debating whether she wanted to jump my bones or not.
I would love to show her what she’s missing out on. I can imagine her sassy attitude comes out during sex, probably a little demanding here and there—most likely a pillow princess, but I don’t give a fuck because I love giving. I wonder what kind of sounds she makes during sex. Is she a moaner or a screamer?
With the way I go down on women, she’ll probably be a screamer.
“Hey, Shep, get your head out of your ass or else you’re going to make Wilson have an aneurysm.” Nate skates toward me, knocking his glove against my shoulder.
He’s right. I need to shake this off. I’ve been off my game all morning.
Coach made us start practice with a bag skate, having us weave in and out of pylons set up in different patterns. Normally I’m one of the quickest. But today I’m sidetracked by the thought of having sex with a sassy brunette who wants nothing to do with me.
I make it through the rest of practice without seeming like a complete idiot.
Most days I enjoy our morning practices because they make me feel more energized for the rest of the day. The rest of the team despises them. They’d rather sleep in and spend more time in the weight room. The only other guy who doesn’t mind waking up before six is Nate. But that’s only because he wants to set a good example for the rest of the team.
Every Tuesday and Thursday we have early morning practices that run from six to eight. Coach Wilson has us use the weight room a minimum of three times a week, although the guys and I hit it up more than that. He doesn’t care if we work out as a team or on our own, but Kieran, Nate, Eli, and I normally go together on Mondays and Wednesdays since it lines up with all of our schedules. We try to go after classes are done so we can avoid Coach Wilson. His office is located in the athletic building and has a window directly facing the weight room. He always jokes about having eyes on us at all times, but I can see him having the rest of the coaching staff keeping tabs on us.
Lucky for me I’m only on campus for half the day on Tuesdays and Thursdays. After our morning practice I have classes immediately after, then I’m done for the day.
I’m majoring in environmental science, which isn’t common for many athletes. A lot of college athletes major in business-based academics, but I decided to pursue a science degree, mainly for my mom. She’s a florist back home and is obsessed with environmental activism.During my first year, I took a course about geology and the environment, and I was hooked. It’s nice to have a topic I can discuss with Mom when I go home.
And with this major, I get the opportunity to take some pretty dope courses. Last year I took a class that was all about natural disasters. It was pretty wicked learning about different weather patterns and what causes increasingly worse storms every year.
My degree might be useless after I graduate, but I might as well take advantage and learn something fun before I go pro.
When I was eighteen, I got drafted by the New Jersey Demons—which is my dad’s favorite NHL team. To say we were stoked is an understatement. The terms of my contract were, once I finish my undergrad, they can call me up to the big leagues or move me to their farm team.
My biggest fear is that after I graduate, they’ll decide that they no longer want my rights and then I’ll have to wait for another team to pick me up.
It’s been stressing me out lately, especially after what happened last year. One of the guys over at Boston College was also drafted right out of high school, but when the time came to call him up, they decided to revoke their rights and not sign him. He didn’t play too well in his college career, thinking that because he was already signed, he’s fate was sealed. He played sloppy and distracted and it cost him. He’s still a free agent with no team wanting to pick him up. Poor guy.
The main reason why I’m nervous is that I’ve had very little contact with the GM of New Jersey—Peter Savinsky. My agent has assured me multiple times that he’s been impressed by my stats throughout the years and that I have nothing to worry about, but this is my whole damn career in their hands. I’ve worked my ass off, proving to them that they made the right decision in drafting me.
All right, I need to stop thinking about it and focus on class. I don’t need to stress sweat and have everyone in the room smell my BO.
Astronomy is an entry-level course that I took to fill up one of my remaining electives. Most people don’t know this about me, but I really dig learning about space. There’s so much to explore and it’s all a mystery. It’s mind blowing to me. I even convinced Kieran to take this class with me, which was like pulling teeth, but he finally caved when he realized all of the quiz answers can be found online.
Kieran’s majoring in business, like most of our teammates. When he was in high school, his parents passed away and left him a shit ton of money that he has no idea what to do with. He says that if hockey doesn’t work out for him, he can invest in a company or something.
Our professor spends the next hour and a half teaching us about the basics of our solar system. It’s still early in the semester, so some classes are still going through the intro material, which most students find boring, but I find it entertaining. There’s a whole lot of shit I didn’t know about until I started this course.
Kieran sits next to me, scrolling endlessly on his phone for the majority of class, but I pay attention the whole time, listening to our prof ramble on about black holes and exploding stars.
For the duration of class I didn’t think once about the small brunette that was in my bed only a few nights ago. But now I’m convinced that there’s something wrong with me because I never obsess over a girl.
The last time I had a girl stuck in my mind, I was fourteen, watching Megan Fox in Transformers for the first time. That girl lived rent-free in my mind for years, and if you asked any teenage boy at the time, they would also agree.
Maybe the reason why Vanessa is in my head is because we didn’t sleep together, and my body just wants to get her out of my system. Maybe if we just hook up once, she’ll be out of my system for good.
I keep remembering the way her body moved with mine on the dance floor and the way she would quietly moan when I sucked on her neck. Fuck, I’m getting a hard-on and class is just about to wrap up.
Okay, Jake, focus. Think of vomit. Dead puppies. Eli clipping his toenails in the kitchen. Anything disgusting .
“Are you going to your other class or skipping?” Kieran pulls me out of my thoughts, and thank fuck they worked ’cause I’m no longer sporting a tent in my pants.
“Yeah, I’m going. Are you staying on campus or heading home?”
I shove my laptop into my bag as we gather the rest of our things and head outside to the late September air. It’s still early in the fall semester, so the sun is still out and it’s not cold enough for a jacket yet. Boston winters can be so brutal, I’ll soak up the warmth as long as I can.
“I don’t have a class until tonight, so I’m gonna head back to the house and make lunch and probably take a nap. My thighs are fucking burning from today’s practice.” Kieran waves at me and starts heading toward the parking lot. “I’ll see you later, dude.”
I nod at him and head in the opposite direction toward the Memorial building where my oceanography class is. Oceanography was one of the classes on my course list that really interested me. I mean, who wouldn’t want to learn all about the deep seas? We’ve explored more of space than our own oceans. That’s fucking insane, not knowing what lurks in the deepest depths of our planet. There’s got to be some wild creatures roaming the ocean floor. Probably giant sharks or prehistoric creatures.
I’m sure if scientists were to find something, they would turn it into a blockbuster movie.
Either way it intrigues me, and my professor for this class is also my academic advisor. He’s pretty dope, just a regular, middle-aged, bald guy who drives a truck and loves his cat. Another perk is that he loves his environmental students—even those of us who have crazy hockey schedules and sometimes miss a class to take a quick nap.
The prof goes off about the basics of the class, and since I already have some basic knowledge of the five oceans and seven seas, I decide that now’s a good time to aimlessly scroll through my dating apps.
A lot of the girls here are the same. Or at least their profiles are similar. They love dogs, they drink socially, are looking for a relationship, oh, and they normally have a random quote from a TV show in their bio that’s totally changed their life.
It’s not until a familiar brunette’s profile floats across my screen that I stop swiping. For a moment I see those gorgeous green eyes swallowing me through my phone screen. Vanessa’s profile is styled similar to other girls, but there’s something that stands out to me.
Instead of having a million and one selfies, she only has three photos of herself—two of which include her friends. The rest of her profile is filled with photography. Clearly that’s an interest of hers . Even her bio is a little different from the typical run of the mill:
Age: 20
Seeking: Noncommitment
Bio: Seriously not looking for anything serious, just here for a good time andmaybe a
laugh if you’re lucky.
Her profile is cute. Simple, yet effective. She gets her point across easily, and I think we could have a good time together. Hell, we had a great time together on the weekend.
Didn’t we?
I get so caught up in my own thoughts about her that I tune out the voice of my professor. Or at least I thought I tuned out his voice.
“Mr. Shepherd, is your phone more important than our lecture today?” Mr. Porter calls me out in front of the two hundred–person lecture hall.
Well fuck, my cover is blown.
“No, sir, my apologies.” I quickly jam my phone back into my pocket as Mr. Porter continues with his lecture. I silently hope I can get through the rest of my day without thinking about Vanessa.
“I know you did it.”
I’ve been listening to Nate and Kieran go at it for the past five minutes about who forgot to replace the roll of toilet paper. Nate was stuck in the bathroom for ten minutes before I came home to save him from hopping in the shower to hose himself off.
“There’s no proof.”
Nate rolls his eyes at Kieran. We all know it was him, he’s the worst for it. Forgetting to put a new roll of toilet paper out, putting a new garbage bag in the bin, the list goes on and on.
Nate, Eli, Kieran, and I all share a brownstone off campus. Nate and Kieran fork over most of the costs for rent, but Eli and I always chip in for groceries and bills. We each carry our own weight, splitting up who cleans what and who has to do the groceries for the upcoming week. Sometimes, Kieran is a bit forgetful when it comes to household chores, and that’s where Nate comes in handy. Not only is he the dad of the team, he’s also the dad of our household.
“You’re always the one who uses the last of the toilet paper and never replaces it.”
“Unless you have video proof, you can’t pin shit on me.” Kieran shrugs, taking a sip from his energy drink.
“You were the only one home.” Nate’s nostrils flare.
This happens on a weekly basis. Whether it’s someone not putting a new roll of toilet paper out or someone using the last of the milk and leaving the empty carton in the fridge, someone is always on Nate’s shit list.
“I came home and took a nap. Maybe it was Eli. He could’ve easily come home before his classes and forgot to change it.”
“I think I might kill you.” He throws the empty toilet paper roll at Kieran’s head, hitting him directly on his forehead.
“Sorry, Dad!” Kieran yells back as Nate storms up the stairs with a new pack of toilet paper in his arms.
By tomorrow morning, Nate will forgive Kieran just like he always does, and things will be back to normal. Well, at least until Kieran forgets to do something else.
I hit resume on our game. Nothing beats coming home from a long day on campus to play dumb games with your friends. Our current fixation is Galaxy Warzone . It’s some indie game Kieran found where you play as space marines fighting aliens who are trying to take over your home planet. It’s colorful and has lots of shooting, so it’s right up our alley.Normally Eli and Nate would be playing some NHL game, but Kieran is all about RPGs or shooters.
“So, was it you?”
“Oh yeah. I came home and took a shit, smoked a joint, and passed out. Must’ve forgot. Oops.”
“You’re such an ass.” I elbow him jokingly, but my movement made him miss his shot.
“So, how’d it go with the brunette from the bar the other night? I saw her practically running out of the house.”
Of course .
I finally have a moment of peace, not thinking about Vanessa, and Kieran has to go and remind me all over again of the girl who turned me down.
“Meh, it was fine.”
Kieran is the one who pauses the game this time. He looks over at me, studying my reaction. Fuck, he knows.
“Did you strike out?”
I give him a look that gives away my answer.
“No fucking way.”
“Shut up.”
His eyes go wide. “Oh fuck, you did strike out.” Immediately he bursts into laughter as Eli swings the front door open.
“Whichever one of you asshats didn’t replace the toilet paper, you owe me twenty bucks.” Eli drops three packs of toilet paper onto the living room floor. “Nate made me pick up— What the hell are you laughing at, Danford?”
“The notorious playboy finally got turned down.”
Eli’s mouth falls open. “Shut the fuck up.”
I shake my head. “Screw you guys. It was one time .”
Yeah, and one that I can’t seem to get out of my damn head.
“Nate!” Eli yells from the bottom of the stairs. “Who bet that Jake would get rejected before Halloween?”
We hear shuffling from the stairs before Nate appears at the bottom, his phone in hand. “Brody. Said some girl would have her wits about her and turn him down.”
That fucker .
As a team bonding experiment, Nate decided to have all the boys make bets during summer training. All random shit, like who would be the first to knock up their girlfriend, who would get the first bloody nose of the season, and of course, betting on when someone would turn me down.
“As if you guys haven’t struck out in the past. Eli, a girl splashed a drink in your face two weeks ago. At least I got the girl back to the house.”
Eli crosses his arms over his chest. “So I forgot the girl’s name, she didn’t need to throw a drink on me.”
“Whatever. Can we change topics now?”
Kieran laughs, “Don’t worry, Shep. I’m sure the next girl you go for will put out. Or maybe this girl will be stuck in your head and curse you for the entire year.”
“That’s so fucked up, I can’t believe you wanna jinx the man’s game.” Eli finally uncrosses his arms and settles on the couch next to us. Nate also joins, picking up two more controllers off the coffee table.
“All right, knock it off, you idiots. Let’s kill some aliens and stop thinking about chasing tail, huh?”
Nate’s always the one to break up our bickering whether it’s at home or it’s on the ice. If I had a dime for the amount of times Nate had to break up an argument, I’d be rich by now.
We settle in the living room for the night, playing video games and munching on leftover pizza from the night prior. Conversations range from hockey to girls to what we believe is in outer space—a topic I may have spent an hour on.
If I keep my head preoccupied, maybe I’ll start to forget Vanessa. The best thing would be to never see her again, so my dumb brain completely removes her from all thoughts.
It’s a big campus, the chances of me running into her again are highly unlikely. Right?