Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
CALLUM
Shorty: How’s college life treating you?
I look around the cramped space, shrugging to myself.
College is. . . different from what I had planned.
Back when I had a plan to go to University of Denver, before mom ruined it for me.
When I was approached by recruiters last fall, pivoting to this school instead seemed like a natural choice, and I couldn’t be happier to get away from it all.
I thought that by leaving, being able to put all of my focus on school and the game I love, would be a breath of fresh air after the last several years of hell that had made up my family life and relationship drama.
I left without looking back, convinced that it would be the best thing for me.
A pang of guilt hits me as I glance back down at my phone again. This is the first time she’s reached out to me since I moved a few weeks ago.
S horty .
If there’s one thing I miss from my old life, it would be her.
I don’t know why. It absolutely shouldn’t be.
She’s my little sister’s best friend, and has always been more of an annoyance to me than anything else while we were growing up.
But over the last few years, as we started talking more, the times when I would catch her hiding in my meadow with that little damn notebook of hers. . .
And then our little impromptu interludes became even more frequent after Lena moved to live with Mom full-time when our parents split.
The two of them had always been glued to the hip, and Lena being the more outspoken of the pair, never backed down from an argument anytime someone tried to pick on Shorty, so I rarely felt the need to involve myself unless things were getting really out of hand.
With Lena’s leaving last year, I made sure to keep an eye out for Sutton even though we didn’t really run in the same circles socially.
Hell, I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel a bit responsible for looking out for her after Lena left, especially as I started to spend more time with her and began to notice just how much other people went out of their way to try and make her life hell for no apparent reason.
Occasionally, I would give her a ride home or to school, when our schedules lined up, and then we started running into each other more frequently in the meadow.
. . The more time I spent in her company, talking or even just enjoying the quiet while having her around, the more surprised I was to realize she was actually a really cool person.
So yeah, I can’t exactly say that it wasn’t at least a little bit intentional on my end, our reluctant friendship, that is.
The need to look out for her, to talk to her, to just spend time with her, became an almost undeniable force; I couldn’t stop myself from lingering in her orbit or making excuses to see her any more than I could tell myself to stop breathing; before I knew what had hit me, she had become one of my closest friends. Not that I would ever tell her that.
Hell. I miss her. More than I thought I would.
Rubbing a hand over my face in frustration, I quickly snap a pick of the sterile dorm room and send it to her.
*image sent*
Her response is almost immediate, and I can’t help but grin like a damn fool.
Shorty: That good, huh?
Shorty: Couldn’t even bother to decorate a bit? You know, make it feel a little more homey?
Just as good as all those 80’s movies you made me watch made it out to be.
Shorty: EXCUSE ME, Sir!
Shorty: I’ll have you know that Drumline, Accepted AND Legally Blonde were all early 2000s movies. Get your facts straight.
Shorty: Besides, you made me watch Miracle, like - five times - so I think we’re even.
We are not even close to even with the amount of girly rom-coms you made me watch.
Shorty: In. A. Row.
Shorty: You made me watch Miracle like five times. In. A. Row.
Shorty: Trust me. We’re even.
Shorty: Besides, you can’t tell me that you never watched rom-coms with Lena around. I distinctly remember many a sleepover when you would end up just chillin with us on the couch, pretending to be less interested in the plot than you actually were.
No comment.
Shorty: Alrighty then. If you say so.
Shorty: Aside from the otherwise sterile domicile, how’s college life? Enjoying your classes? How’s your new roommate?
My classes are fine. Just started, so I have no room to complain really. My roommate is a real piece of work, though.
Actually, I think you two would really hit it off. I’ll have to introduce you some time.
I mean, you know. . .
If you’re ever in the area.
Shorty: . . . .
Shorty: Callum Marvin Robinsky
Shorty: Are you seriously trying to pimp me out right now?
What?! No! That’s not what I meant at all!!!
It’s just that, you know. He likes what you like. *shrugs* Theater and shit.
Shorty: Theater and shit?
Shorty: That’s it, we’re done. Enjoy college. Bye!
Wait! Shit. That’s not what I meant!
Shorty: *Laughing emoji*
Shorty: Oh my god
Shorty: It’s fine. Seriously. I’m just teasing you.
Futilely, I try to calm my racing heart. The thought of pissing her off so much that she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore sends me into a panic that I don’t want to give too much thought. She means too damn much for me to have her just quit on us.
Shorty: And you know, if you want me to come visit, all you have to do is just ask.
Shorty: I mean, that’s what friends are for, right?
I can almost picture her flustered blush as she sends that last text.
I know she used to have a crush on me back when we were kids.
And I know I can still ruffle her feathers from time to time.
It makes me grin, just thinking about the flush highlighting her cute freckles, the slight upturn of her nose.
With a shake of my head, I force those thoughts out of my mind before they can lead me down a dangerous path.
She’s your fucking little sister’s best friend, asshole. Don’t go there.
Yeah, Shorty. I guess that is what friends are for.
. . .
Wait, did you say Marvin???
Shorty: Have fun at practice this week! Play nice and make friends like the good little boy I know you are!
A laugh escapes me, her smartass little remark is completely unexpected but was a perfect pick-me-up in the middle of my otherwise tedious day. Damn, this girl always seems to know when I need a good laugh.
Shorty: Good luck on your game today! I may not be there, but I’m still cheering you on!
Shorty: I heard you guys won, 2-0! Good game!
Shorty: I know you’ve got finals coming up, but don’t let the pressure get you down. You’ve got this. * thumbs up emoji*
Shorty: Your first ever hat trick! Way to freaking go!
An ear-splitting grin crosses my face, at that.
It’s been months since I have seen Sutton in person, but she never fails to text me before or after a game.
And the periodic messages and phone calls that I have gotten throughout the term, outside of ones related to our games, have been something that I’ve come to look forward to the most throughout my week, even if she refuses to video chat me despite my almost begging at this point.
When I left for school, I didn’t think it was possible for us to grow even closer than we had during the previous year, but somehow, in spite of the chaos that is college life, and having an insane in-season schedule, we still make it a priority to talk to one another on a regular basis.
And this girl, hell, she is a fucking gem.
The pressure at the college level has been.
. . different. . . to say the least. Maintaining my grades with a demanding course load, while still staying in top-form on the ice?
I mean, if I want to make it to the big leagues, I have to stand out.
Which means extra hours at the gym, extra time before and after classes spent on the ice.
I literally eat, sleep, breathe, and shit hockey these days, and my social life has definitely gone by the wayside because of it.
Back in high school, I used to be the life of the party but now I don’t have time for anything outside of classes or hockey.
Most days, I don’t even have the energy to care.
Don’t get me wrong, there are always parties to celebrate our latest win, and the puck bunnies throw themselves at me like they’re fucking confetti, but I literally don’t have time for that shit.
Outside of my classes, hockey has been my life.
And by proxy, Sutton, with her diligent outreach despite my inconsistent replies, has literally become my only lifeline to the world outside of hockey.
*grin emoji* Thanks, Shorty! I’m pretty damn proud of that one, if I do say so myself.
Wait a minute.
How did you know I scored my first hat trick? This wasn’t a televised match?
I wait several minutes, but there is no reply, which is unusual to say the least. Typically, Sutton is always quick to respond when I come up for air enough to actually reply to her messages.
“Hey there. You’re Callum, right? Callum Robinsky? That was quite the game tonight.”
A flirtatious voice has me looking up from my phone in time to see two puck bunnies leaning over our table at the bar. In fact, they are both leaning over so far that their tits are practically falling out of their too-tight crop tops.
I run a hand through my hair, unsure of how to respond.
I only came out with the guys tonight to celebrate our win after they spent twenty minutes railing on me for being such a kill-joy lately.
They wouldn’t take no for an answer after my hat trick that I managed to pull off in the final few minutes of the game.
Insisting it was a rite of passage, they dragged me out to this hole-in-the-wall dive bar, citing “traditions” or some bullshit like that.
“Uh. Yeah, thanks. I guess-”
I’m distracted as I glance back down at my phone, checking to see if she replied yet.
But of course she hasn’t. My phone would have vibrated with the notification if she had.
Damn. It’s been a long two weeks, and her texts, which are usually pretty consistent, have been much more sporadic than normal.
I also haven’t gotten any phone calls recently, which isn’t like her. A small, niggling part at the back of my mind starts to worry that maybe something’s wrong, but no, she would have mentioned if that were the case. Damn it, I guess I’m just missing her more than I care to admit.
“Sorry, ladies. This one’s ours tonight.”
An overly cheerful voice interrupts whatever the hell these girls were saying. Fuck if I know, I was so distracted that I completely tuned them out. But that voice, that beautiful fucking voice, has me freezing on the spot. Holy shi-
“Hey there, big guy. What’s a girl gotta do to get a hug up in here?”
Without a second thought I jump up from the table, my legs knocking into it and causing the various beers and glasses to rattle in the process.
The puck bunnies that had been crowding my space stumble back, glaring over at the newcomer, but I don’t spare them another glance as a second later, I am swinging Shorty, my fucking Shorty , into my arms in a soul-crushing bear hug.
“Holy shit! What are you doing here?”
Swinging her around in a circle before finally, reluctantly, setting her back on her feet. Still holding her arms, unable to force myself to let go completely, I step back to take her in.
She looks. . . different , though I can’t quite pin what it is about her.
. .she looks fucking incredible, but then, she always has.
Long hair split into two braids and tucked into a knit cap with my school’s logo.
My number painted on her cheeks along with some sparkly shit that catches the light as she tilts her head, and wearing my fucking jersey.
Not my college one, but my old jersey from Juniors.
Wait a fucking second.
That’s literally my jersey. My old practice jersey . How the hell did she even get a hold of that? My heart skips a beat, dick hardening at the sight.
Damn. Get it together, Robinsky.
“Uh, excu-se me! What am I? Chopped liver?”
At the voice, I startle, jaw dropping. What the fuck is going on here?
“Lena!”
“Hey, big bro!”
My sister steps forward from behind Sutton, and I reluctantly let go of Shorty, turning towards my little sister so I can hug her too.
“It’s so fucking good to see you! Both of you. . . Wait. What are you guys doing here?”
Having given my baby sister her own bear-hug, I step back, eyeing them both critically. Last I heard, Lena was still several states away, hanging out with Mom. And Sutton? She may live a lot closer than my sister, but it is still way too far for this to be an impromptu sort of visit.
Sutton opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off before she can get a word out.
“Um, Sutty got her license, so we figured we’d roadtrip it over here to see your game. Duh!” Lena says this like it explains all of life's mysteries and I am an incompetent ass.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I level her with a stare. Really, it’s my specialty; this “big brother” look is one I spent years honing to cut through all her bullshit. She shoots me a sheepish grin in response.
“Well. . .” She stretches the word out, and I raise an eyebrow, enhancing the “stern older brother” look that I am trying to pull off.
“You know I’m back in town for a tournament this week.
Plus, since Sutty conveniently got her license just recently, we made a plan to roadtrip it over here and surprise you for your game.
It’s a good thing we did too. We missed the first half, and it seems you guys were totally sucking balls.
No offense. But then we showed up, and you pulled your mutual heads out of your asses in the third period and you managed to pull off that hat trick, so really it was all worth it and isn’t it so nice to see me? ”
Lena’s voice speeds up as she finishes talking, and her voice is cloyingly sweet, trying to butter me up like she always does. But I know her tricks, and that shit isn’t working on me right now.
“You guys just drove over. Do our parents even know you decided to make a ‘little road trip’ of it?”
Sutton grins now, and my breath catches as her eyes meet mine.
“That’s the beauty of it, Dad thinks I’m at Sutton’s. And her parents think she’s at a vocal camp this weekend. So, we are free agents for the next twenty-four hours.” Lena pushes up on tip-toes to kiss my cheek, and I force my gaze back down to her.
“Where are you two even staying?”