SAWYER #2
This entire week had been hell and it was only the first of the semester.
My body was already bruised from hockey drills and a few clumsy pucks slamming into my leg and arm.
My brain was fried and I hadn’t even started studying.
My hopes had evaporated after a short relief of being back home with my family.
“I know you’ll work it out, buddy,” Dad had told me on my way back here.
“Even if it looks hopeless, don’t give up just yet. ”
And that was what really made my heartstrings quiver.
They’d put so much trust in me, Mom and Dad.
They’d cheered me on at every turn and hoped for the best no matter what my endeavors were.
When I inevitably failed and returned home with my tail between my legs, they wouldn’t let their disappointment show.
Oh no. Nobody would raise a voice or even say I could have done better.
In their eyes, I was already doing the best job ever.
They would nod and pat my shoulder, then tell me how awesome I was for all the effort I’d put in.
Goddammit.
I sighed and stomped the snow off at the entrance to the frat house.
They were blasting party music on a surround system that made the roof jump off the house.
The beats were steady, but the melody was bland and the autotuned vocals were forming lazy thoughts through easily memorized lines.
There was nothing inspiring about it. Then again, I was here to lose myself in the crowd and maybe get laid.
I wasn’t exactly looking for music that would make me transcend dimensions.
The party-goers were still in the early stages of getting into it.
Frat bros and sorority girls mingled awkwardly, feigning disinterest and boredom in this weird, contemporary way of flirting.
Everyone was putting a lot of effort into pretending they weren’t into you. And who was better at that than me?
I sent a few nods here and there that substituted a ‘Sup?’ which took too much effort by today’s standards.
Just the earrings that dangled from my ears and the uninterested look I shot to everyone were enough to get me noticed.
Add to that the abundance of line art tattoos that snaked from beneath my clothes, licking along my neck and the backs of my hands, as well as the fact I was the Titans’ goalie, and that was it.
Two sophomore brunettes sent me looks I didn’t return and a blond chick with a pierced nose offered me a drink, which I took.
What I lacked in height and mass, I made up for in definition and aesthetic.
As a goalie, I was the unusual one, but nobody was as fast as me.
What I lacked in size before the goal post, I made up for in my skill.
It was going to be such a shame when all of that skill went to waste because I lost my scholarship. Oh well. At least the drink was biting my throat and burning on the way down. That would help me weather the night. I only had so many left until the end of May.
“I’ve seen you around,” the blond said.
“Oh yeah?” I didn’t look at her. Those were the flirting rules.
“Heather, is this guy bothering you?” a deep voice interrupted just as Heather inhaled to say that yeah, she totally had seen me around.
“Back off, Zach,” Heather said.
“Seems like you’re bothering her,” I pointed out, still looking straight, leaning against the wall. “And she can take care of herself.”
“That she can,” Heather said and pushed Zach hard enough to send the message. I didn’t know either of them, but the girl was growing on me. “Sorry about that loser.”
“Not your fault,” I said, struggling to get in a good mood for anything more than chitchat.
“It actually is,” Heather said. “He’s my twin brother. He probably thinks he was flirting with you.”
I looked at her, then at Zach, and back at her.
Yep. They were siblings. Same shade of blond and the same blue eyes, similar lips, and upturned noses.
He was obviously a gym rat or a football jock.
He glared at me, then turned away. My eyes lingered on his physique for a few moments.
He had all the things I didn’t, but I wondered if they served him well.
The size of his bulky, chiseled torso probably slowed him down.
Oh, he was lickable as fuck, but I was measuring him as a goalie.
He’d keep that goalpost filled for sure, but he would have a hard time doing anything flashy.
Flashy moves were why the crowds loved me. The Broody Bugs Bunny of Ice Hockey, an editorial once called me. They weren’t wrong.
“Honey, you’re staring at my brother,” Heather said softly.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Was I?”
“I’m jealous,” she said.
We caught each other’s glances and exchanged a smirk. “Don’t be,” I said. I thrust my hand out for a shake and shook hers as I introduced myself. “Blazing bisexual. Pleased to meet you.”
Heather chuckled back and shook her head. “Prancing pansexual. Pleasure’s all mine.”
I threw my head back and laughed out loud. “I like your style.”
“You’re stylish yourself,” she said.
A thought crossed my mind and I hid the way it made the corners of my mouth quiver by taking another sip of my drink.
Whatever the hell she had given me was vodka based.
I didn’t care to find out the rest. What I cared about was Heather.
Tonight. Then, if the stars aligned, Zach. Wouldn’t that make it a bingo?
And as Heather began asking about my tattoos, I glanced back at Zach who was melting into the crowd. He looked over his shoulder and found me whispering something back to Heather, our gazes lingering on one another for a few moments. He rolled his eyes and turned away.
This was going to be a fun game to play.
And when Heather caught me glancing at her twin, she gave a coy smile that said she was interested in exactly the same amount of attachment as I was.
Could I give her a night to remember? Hell yeah.
And would she give a damn who I went after the next day? Not in a million years.
For a moment, I could stop thinking about Wallaby and physics and the impossibility of finding Noah Foster. For a night, I could indulge in the thrill of the chase.
Oh yeah. The game was on.