Chapter Two - 2. The Hookup #2
“— position for a first year student,” the CSS president, Lauren, said, and my ears pricked. I — along with every other first year in the room — sat up straighter.
“A small committee is formed for organising the end of semester commerce ball,” Lauren explained.
Every time I’d seen her, she wore a variation of the same thing: a perfectly ironed cream blouse, a tweed skirt, and trendy rimless glasses.
“All positions are extremely competitive, so we always have one position exclusively for first year students to give them a better chance. Still, last year we had over fifty applicants.”
A guy sitting in front of me put his hand up. “What’s the role exactly?”
“Assistant treasurer. The student will help manage the event budget. The ball gets quite expensive, so fair warning that it is rather stressful.”
Lauren went on to explain that the ball committee was chosen through a complicated process including CSS member votes and the executive committee reading through written applications. I could barely sit still as I jotted down notes, half of my mind far, far away.
I walked to the sports centre humming. I didn’t even realise it until Matty gave me a weird look in the change rooms.
“Dude, are you singing?”
“No,” I replied, taking my soccer kit out of my backpack. “I just have a song stuck in my head.” I changed in a cubicle and when I came out to the sinks, Matty was there, eyeing me in the mirrors as he styled his hair with tap water.
“Something’s definitely up,” he said. “Look at yourself. You’re wearing a big-ass goofy grin.”
I hesitated. “There’s a position opening up for first years on the Commerce Students’ Society and it’s perfect for me because the role is assistant treasurer and I was treasurer of the student council in high school —”
“There’s no way you’re mooning over a student club,” Matty interrupted.
The issue with having a conversation in a mirror meant that you could see all of your micro-expressions in real time, including the moment your face twitched.
Matty grinned, pointing a finger at me. “Knew it. There’s something more.”
I shrugged. “I mean, I’m also excited for training.”
“It’s been drizzling all morning. No one’s excited for training.”
“I don’t mind the mud.” Lies. All lies.
Matty laughed in my face. Then he closed the distance between us, a hand reaching for me, and my heart jumped into my throat because I thought he’d either hit me or kiss me and I remembered Taylor’s you can’t touch anyone else and —
Matty’s fingers hooked into my soccer shirt collar and tugged it down, exposing a big red-purplish bruise at the base of my neck.
There was a long silence.
“I ran into a pole,” I said.
Matty laughed in my face for a second time, which I deserved. He let go of my shirt and stepped away. “What’s her name?”
“No one.”
Matty raised a brow. “Her name’s no one?”
“No, I…uh.” I couldn’t concentrate, not when he was smirking at me like that. “She’s no one.”
“She’s clearly not, not when you were literally singing before — ”
“I wasn’t singing, I was humming,” I corrected.
“And even now,” Matty continued, ignoring me, “you’re smiling like you’ve won the lottery. Once we get on the field, you’ll probably start skipping.”
“I will not,” I said. I didn’t skip.
Matty just smirked at me. “What’s her name?”
I opened my mouth and closed it. There was nothing I could say now that would make him give it up. I’d been too obvious. “Talia,” I blurted out.
“Talia,” Matty repeated. “Don’t think I know her. Is she hot?”
“So hot,” I sighed. Maybe I really was in a good mood, because usually I wouldn’t be so candid, but I wanted to tell someone.
Matty was right. I did feel like I’d won the lottery and it was painful, keeping it a secret.
I wanted to shout it out to the whole world.
“I reckon she’s definitely the prettiest girl on campus. ”
Matty whistled. “And she’s good in bed?”
I groaned. “Yes.”
“Oh, like, kinky?”
“Kinda,” I said. “I restrained her, once. With handcuffs.”
Matty tilted his head like he was seeing me in a new light. “Oh yeah? What else?”
Encouraged, I continued, “I made her wear a costume.”
“What? No, let me guess.” He stroked his chin, then pointed at me. “Sexy nurse?”
“French maid.”
Matty laughed, and put his hand up for a high-five. “Nice, man. So she’s your girlfriend or is it more of a casual thing?”
“Casual thing, definitely,” I replied. Photos flashed through my mind. “But —”
Matty’s brows jumped up. “But?” he echoed. “You’re catching feelings?”
“What? No!” I said, itchy heat crawling up my neck rushing through me. “No, it’s nothing.”
Matty looked at me knowingly, which just annoyed me, because if anyone was catching feelings, it definitely wasn’t me. The smart thing to do would’ve been to change the topic, but I couldn’t let Matty go on thinking I was falling for my hook up. It would make me look so…weak.
“It’s nothing,” I repeated, “but she…she’s got this photo album dedicated to me.”
Matty stared. “What? And she showed you?”
“No, I found it accidentally. She left her phone unlocked. It’s called” — why was I so fixated on this one fact ?— “ idiot.”
“And it’s full of photos of you?” Matty asked.
“That’s what I just said.”
“That’s kind of creepy behaviour, man.” He shook his head. “She’s probably in love with you or some shit.”
My stomach flipped. “You think that’s what it means?”
He looked at me like I was stupid.
“I know it’s…unusual,” I admitted. “But the thing is, half the time, she’s not even that nice to me.”
“Does she cook you breakfast?”
That was the last question I was expecting. “Huh?”
“The morning after, does she cook you breakfast?” Matty paused. “Do you sleep over? Or is it a hit it and quit it sort of thing?”
“H — she,” I corrected hastily, “has slept over twice.” God, was there some sort of calculation I wasn’t aware of? Three times or less, it’s totally casual. Four plus, they’re in love? “And she has cooked for me a few times, but it’s not like that.” We just live together.
“Well, to me it sounds like she likes you for real.”
I thought of Taylor’s gaze, cold and unyielding. “She doesn’t,” I murmured. “She said so.”
Matty barked a laugh. “People lie, Archie. Especially about that.”
By the time I returned to the 407, I was drenched in rain, my calves splattered with mud and flecks of grass, and I was in a thunderous mood.
I’d played like shit because I couldn’t stop overthinking that conversation with Matty, and then the coach had made me stay back on the field to ask me ‘what was that?’ and so, by the time I got to the change rooms, all the showers had been taken.
I didn’t want to wait around, especially to wash myself with lukewarm water and shitty hand soap, so I trudged home, and worse of all, once I got into the dorm, Taylor wasn’t even there.
It sounds to me like she likes you for real.
I had a scalding shower, steam fogging up the glass panels.
People lie, Archie.
By the time I’d wrapped myself in a towel and opened the bathroom door, I found Taylor waiting for me, one hip propped up against the kitchen island, his arms crossed. He was smiling.
“You left a hickey,” I snapped, pointing at my neck. “One of my teammates saw.”
Taylor walked over, dark eyes glimmering. “Sorry,” he said, sounding the opposite of apologetic. His hands landed on each of my arms. “To be fair, you shouldn’t be changing in front of everyone. That’s a rookie mistake.”
“I didn’t change in front of everyone,” I retorted. “Also, why’s it my fault? You’re the one who left this massive mark.”
“Sorry,” Taylor repeated, manoeuvring me backwards towards my bedroom.
I felt agitated. Goddamnit, Matty.
No, that was unfair. It was my own fault. I decided right then and there I’d forget the whole photo album thing. It didn’t mean anything.
Taylor shoved me onto my bed, and I landed with a bounce as he loomed over me. “Towel off.”
I huffed but did as he said, and his eyes travelled slowly up from my ankles, over my knees, my thickening cock. As his gaze moved up north, I covered my chest with my hands. “Please not my nipples again. They ached for days afterwards.”
“But I want to,” Taylor said, lowering himself over me, breath gusting over my neck. “They’re so pretty when they’re pink and stiff.” One of his hands landed on my thigh and stroked gently. “Besides, I know it makes you hard.”
“Fine,” I said, like I was doing him a favour. But when his wet tongue flicked over my chest, I couldn’t help the moan that escaped me.