THE LAW OF ATTRACTION
VIKTOR
I STEP OUT OF THE SHOWER, GRAB A TOWEL, AND DRY OFF.
BEFORE I CAN TURN AWAY, I GLIMPSE myself in the foggy mirror.
Right now, I’m the portrait of good health: strong, fit, still unbruised from gameplay.
And before I can tamp it down, I’m filled with hatred for my healthy, able self.
Why am I so fortunate? I’m here on a beautiful campus, surrounded by happy teammates, competing in a sport that brings us adulation.
All I do is chase a piece of vulcanized rubber around the ice and people praise me.
I should be doing real things that help people like my brother.
But I shake off this malaise. A team captain has to be positive and set a good example. And I promised my family that I would finish my degree, so I’m here. I can work to win a championship before I put aside hockey forever.
I wrap a towel around my waist and exit into the hallway where I run into Wally. As seniors, we have the best rooms in this house, two attic bedrooms with a shared bathroom. Our rooms are quieter and more private, and we don’t have to jostle for bathroom time.
Hey, Zee. Just going down to get set up for the party. He has a headset around his neck and his laptop under his arm. Wally is our resident DJ, and he takes pride in the breadth of his musical tastes.
Can’t wait to hear what new tunes you’re going to spin tonight, I say.
Wally’s normally worried expression transforms as he tells me about a new artist he’s found.
Sometimes it’s disconcertingly easy to make people happy.
I know the strengths and weaknesses of my teammates.
Wally is an intensely competitive goalie with a long list of superstitions.
Music is his release, something that brings him pure pleasure.
Although with more introspection, Wally would realize that DJing allows him to control the mood of an entire crowd, just like he wants to control each hockey game.
Obviously, I’m overanalyzing. But I’m struck by how detached I am this year. I compliment Wally because I do enjoy his music, but being able to observe myself doing this makes me feel false.
Back in my room, I hang up my towel and pull on some underwear and stand in front of my closet.
I don’t really want to attend tonight’s party, but since it’s at my own house, I can’t avoid it.
Besides, it’s that period before hockey starts when I’m full of energy and have nothing to expend it upon.
I should want to party, to do something.
But after three years of college, nothing feels new or exciting.
It’s a warm night, so I choose a linen shirt and Japanese selvedge jeans. As I thread a polished leather belt through the jeans, I realize that dressing up no longer brings me pleasure. I’ve always enjoyed fashion, but now it feels superficial.
Once dressed, I delay by picking up my phone and checking the news again, then some group chats I’m in.
Nothing new. Power outages in Ukraine continue; it’s tolerable now, but once winter comes, it will be life-threatening.
I wonder how my grandmother is. My mother assured me yesterday she was fine, but so much can happen in twenty-four hours when your country is a war zone.
I pocket my phone and leave my room, locking my door to prevent any unwanted visitors. Horny, drunken partiers will go anywhere for privacy.
As I descend the stairs, the party noise gets louder and louder. It’s already wall-to-wall people, and I weave my way into the kitchen where the bar is set up and grab a drink. I join a bunch of my teammates in our big living room where the real party happens
Zee! My teammates greet me happily, and my bad mood recedes.
How’s the party going? I ask.
Great, Sinc says. Wally’s got everyone dancing already.
I look across the room where Wally is swaying to the beat. Most DJs need a platform but at 6’5”, he already has a bird’s-eye view.
A lot of the freshmen are hot this year, Bergy informs us. Tyler Bergstrom is obsessed with women, yet infamous for striking out with them. If he’d focus on being better at hockey, that might solve his women problems.
The freshmen are looking younger and younger, says Coty. Makes me feel like a dirty old man.
You are a dirty old man, Sinc jokes. He and Coty make up our top defence pairing, and they’re buddies off the ice as well.
Where’s Mats? I ask Sinc.
He points to the dance floor where Mats is sedately dancing while Cleo Nelson does crazy disco moves all around him. That’s their relationship in a nutshell. She’s on the women’s hockey team and a ball of energy.
Bergy is still eyeing all the women here. Those Alpha Zeta Mu chicks are total babes.
I follow his gaze and see four young women and a couple of guys. Not Destiny fortunately. I regret how badly that breakup went, but there’s nothing I can do now but avoid her until she cools down. Eventually we can patch things up. I usually stay friendly with the women I’ve dated.
Bergy pokes me. The cute brunette is staring at you.
I look over. One of the sorority women is watching me, a tall, slim woman who looks familiar. I can’t place her, surprisingly because she’s quite spectacular. A waterfall of smooth dark hair, ivory skin, curving pink lips, and a direct stare. How can I not remember meeting her?
Her attention is jerked away by a guy talking to her. I watch as she nods, then they move onto the dance floor. As they dance, there’s a sensation that something’s wrong—she shouldn’t be with him. Again, I’m puzzled. I never feel possessive about women, especially ones I don’t even know.
Are you interested? Bergy asks.
I haven’t even spoken to her. Yet that sense of familiarity lingers. I ignore it and get into a discussion about the upcoming season with Sinc and Coty.
Are you guys talking hockey during a party? You should be dancing, Three women interrupt our conversations. Come on!
Sinc smiles and shakes his head. Sorry. I have a girlfriend.
One of the girls giggles. Then where is she? You’re too cute to be left all alone.
She lives in Minneapolis. But she visits most weekends, he explains earnestly, as if this tipsy woman actually cares. Sinc is the upstanding boy scout of our team.
What about you? The curvy blonde turns to me.
I shake my head. I’m trouble.
Oh, I like trouble. She pulls at my arm, but I stay planted. She’s not my type, and I prefer to make the first move.
I’ll dance with all of you, Coty offers, and they shriek with laughter and make their way to the dance area.
Women can be pretty aggressive. Sinc shivers and looks over at Wally and his girlfriend. I wish that Andy went on to grad school like Rosie. Then she’d still live here.
When is she visiting again? I ask.
Next weekend. He grins.
Most of my teammates are busy mingling now. I look over and see the willowy brunette again. This time, she is heading towards the kitchen—all by herself. She looks over her shoulder and gives me a seductive half-smile.
That look triggers my interest. I walk swiftly and intercept her. Getting a drink?
Her eyes widen. They’re an unusual shade of violet. Yes, I’m thirsty.
That sounds like a declaration of interest.
I smile and take the solo cup from her hand. Allow me.
Her lips part, and I can see straight white teeth and a pink tongue that stirs a neediness in me. Up close, she’s even more beautiful—flawless skin, lithe body, and all that dark hair. She’s exactly the kind of woman I’m attracted to.
She puts her hand over mine as if to take the cup back. Her skin is warm and silken against mine, and I freeze to prolong the contact.
What makes you think I can’t do it myself? she asks.
I think you’re a woman who likes to let men do things…
for her. There are so many things I’d like to do for her.
Kiss her and touch her until she’s mindless with desire.
Spread those long legs and go down on her until she comes hard.
And of course, fuck her endlessly in any or every position she wants.
A slight blush glows on her cheeks as she takes in my meaning. But then that tempting smile returns.
All right. I’ll allow you. She drops her hand, and we walk towards the fridge.
Tell me what you’d like? I let the question linger between us.
She inhales sharply and draws my attention to her chest under a white eyelet top tied with ribbons at the front.
The kind of top which makes a guy imagine how easy it would be to untie.
Three quick pulls, and it would fall apart to reveal…
what? A lacy white bra? Something sheer?
Or maybe, most intriguingly, nothing at all.
Just an expanse of pale skin with soft breasts and tiny erect nipples.
I exhale. This attraction is ridiculous. We’ve barely spoken. I prefer my women interesting outside of bed as well. Although I might be willing to make an exception for someone this lovely.
Just water, please, she replies.
Our fridge has a dispenser, so I fill her cup with ice and water and hand it back to her.
She looks at me from under long fringed lashes. Thank you.
Thank you, Viktor, I prompt, testing her interest in a little dominance.
She smiles. Thank you, Viktor. I’m Evie.
A unique name and one I’d certainly remember. I lean closer. You know, I feel like we’ve met somewhere before. Have we?
No! I mean, no, I would have— She takes a step back, bumps into someone, and then jerks forward, spilling ice and water onto me.
Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. She reaches out to brush the water off my shirt. Her words, her motion, are so familiar. My balls retract in response, and I back up a step.
I remember you now. You’re the ball-buster from the library. I examine her more closely. Evie looks like a completely different person, more slick and sophisticated. It’s hard to align her with the bookish woman from the Schultz.
At the library, I found her attractive, but she was clearly uninterested in me. I was almost insulted by how easily she slipped back into reading, completely oblivious to my presence. Yet now she’s definitely interested.
Did she find out that I’m captain of the Mustangs in the meantime? No, at the library she was indifferent to hockey. And it can’t be my looks, which she sloughed off when we met.
Yet now she seems almost desperate to get to know me, and that makes me suspicious.
What’s really going on here? I ask.
Nothing, she replies with zero conviction. Fine. That was me at the library. But I don’t think you should hold it against me. It was an accident.
I’m not holding anything against you…yet. Despite the warning bells, I still find her extremely attractive.
Are you…okay now? Down there? Her glance drops to my balls, then jerks away. All the flirty confidence from before is gone. Exactly who is she? I decide to test her.
Why don’t we go upstairs to my room and you can see for yourself? I suggest.
A flaming blush begins on her cheeks and moves down her throat and presumably over the breasts I was just imagining. But to my surprise, she’s considering my offer. Maybe she’s not the innocent I assumed.
Finally, she stammers, I, uh…it’s a bit soon, isn’t it?
Her flirty bravado is completely gone now, and the real person stands before me: someone shy and inexperienced. Definitely not anyone I’d be interested in.
I put a finger under her chin and lift her face. Her eyes are wide and the tip of a pink tongue moistens her lips. She really is lovely. What a shame.
How old are you, Evie?
Me? Um, nineteen? She replies like someone guessing in a multiple-choice quiz, hoping it’s the right answer. My suspicions coalesce.
Yeah. I’m not sure what game you’re playing at here, but I’m bad news for someone like you. You should find someone more your speed.
She tosses her dark hair back with a scowl. My speed? You don’t even know me. And you can’t be that much older than me.
Hockey players can be older than most college students. But regardless, you’re too young for me.
Now there’s an expression on her face that I can’t read at all. Panic? Fear? But that makes no sense. She’s full of contradictions and inconsistencies, and that’s the last thing I need. I turn to leave, but she puts a restraining hand on my arm. Her soft touch shouldn’t feel so searing.
I don’t understand. A minute ago you were interested. You were coming on really strong. And you must have known I was a freshman. What changed?
I like to date women, I emphasize the word, who know what they want. Who understand what they’re getting into. Besides, some women are nineteen going on twenty-nine. You’re a very young nineteen.
Her brow creases, and she bites a plump lower lip that looks delicious. But I have dating principles, and I’m not going ruin some innocent. Before she can protest again, I push away her hand and turn to leave.
Bye-bye, little girl.