Roommates

by Erin Leigh

  He lies back completely, sweaty and breathing heavily.

  I follow him, lying on his chest and listening to his heart.

  If this is what cheap sex feels like, I might have to do a lot more of it.

  Keeping my word about this being nothing but a fuck, I slap him on the chest and nod. “Thanks.” I climb off and walk to the bathroom for a shower. I don't want to make it weird. He was right. We’re roommates and we can’t attach anything to this.

  We can’t even do this again.

  The shower washes away the stupidity I was calling bravery, and I realize I’ve made a terrible mistake. I don't know how we can come back from this.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Remorse, a dish better served hot and awkward

  Brady

  I’m an idiot.

  The kind of idiot you want to be and yet don't.

  She asked me to fuck her and I did the opposite of that. Something I’ve never done before. I think I made love to her. And I orgasmed inside her.

  Jesus.

  By the end of the week maybe we’ll both have vaginas.

  The shower can’t get the stain of the shame off.

  The workout the trainer put us through can’t sweat it out of me.

  I’m stuck with the feeling of her all over me.

  I can’t get out of her. I’m still there.

  My dreams are about her.

  My daydreams are a repetition of the event.

  She’s gotten inside me somehow.

  It’s what comes with breaking all my rules.

  She’s a friend. She lives with me. She’s there all the time.

  But there’s something else too.

  There’s been something else from the moment I met her.

  Something about the way she smiles and smells and laughs and—fuck.

  FUCK!

  Getting inside her didn't change anything. It didn't take away the feelings I have for her. It made them worse. Stronger.

  I’m officially never going to get away from this. It's at my house and in my bed and in my heart.

  Oh my God.

  I’m becoming an emotional idiot.

  One of those dudes we all laugh at.

  But do we?

  Do we really laugh when we see a guy completely into a chick?

  Am I admitting to myself that I have feelings for her?

  Am I a sixteen-year-old virgin clinger?

  I need to screw something else.

  I need to do it my way.

  My brain dings as the realization comes around.

  I need to do her my way.

  That’ll bring the perspective back.

  That’s what I’m going to do.

  “What?” Mike gives me a look from the bench in the locker room.

  “Nothing.”

  “Dude, you okay?” He looks worried.

  “I’m good.” I’m not, but we have a home game so I don't have time to not be okay. Plus, I’m not emotional. I don't do feelings. I don't screw girls twice in one week. I don't do this. I’ll bang her, jerk one all over her, and end this feeling. She’ll become just like any other girl.

  Coach gives us all a look. “I bet the coach from Syracuse dinner so you boys better bring it tonight.”

  We all cheer.

  Anderson, the captain, stands up and gives us all a look. “Who’s ready to bring the thunder down on them?”

  We cheer.

  “I SAID WHO’S READY TO BRING THE THUNDER DOWN ON THEM?”

  “WE ARE!” we scream as a team. The team we have become in the past month. We have places and routines and plays. It’s planned and precise. We have found our stride.

  “THEN LET’S FUCKING DO IT!”

  We stand, bumping against one another as we leave the locker room, ready to kick some ass.

  The adrenaline fills me, made stronger by the sound of skates on the rubber floor.

  We thump and bump our way to the rink. The home crowd screams as the music gets louder and the announcer shouts our intro. We hit the ice, banging our sticks and raising arms in victory—the victory we’re about to have.

  I skate, scanning the crowd. In the seats close to the ice I see her face. I blink and assume I’m hallucinating, but she’s there in a coat with a hot drink and Sami and the brunette from her work by her side. She offers a simple wave. Her cheeks are pink from the cold of the stands.

  She came to my game?

  I’ve never had a girl I actually liked at my game.

  PFs yeah, but not a girl like her.

  “Holy shit, Sami and Nat came to the game.” Mike nudges me. “You mind if I ask Natalie out?” He gives me a smug grin. “I mean, one of us might as well get the chance to fuck her, right? You can’t so I should. I can give you details.” He laughs and offers her a wink and a kissy face.

  My blood courses through my veins, boiling and killing whatever common sense I might have had before this moment.

  The music changes as we do our lap and the Syracuse team hits the ice.

  Coach calls us back in. My eyes land on hers once more. It’s the last time I see her face for the entire game.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Misconduct, all around

  Natalie

  “They look so hot in those uniforms,” I mutter. “Better than the video games.”

  “Jersey, don't say uniform. They don't like it.” Sami points. “See that guy there, number twenty-eight on Syracuse?”

  “Yeah.”

  She winks. “You might remember him from when we were kids. He’s a friend of Will and Matt’s.” She rolls her eyes. “He was asking about you.”

  My eyes dart to Brady, ignoring the guy as I nod. “Cool.” Not even wanting to know his name, I give Liz a look. “Do you like hockey?” Since I’ve been listening to Brady’s games I’ve started to kind of dig it a bit.

  “No.” She shakes her head. “I mean, I don't hate it. I just don't know it. I’m not painting my face the colors of the uniforms.”

  I laugh. “I know what you mean.” I nod at Sami. “I’m coming around to it. She loves hockey.”

  “Players. I love hockey players. The game is awesome foreplay. But it could be any game. I just like how rough they can get.” Her green eyes sparkle.

  Liz cocks an eyebrow. “I guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  We all sip our hot cocoa and wait for the warm-up to end. They play music and do raffles. There’s a kiss cam. Of course it lands on thee Sami Ford. She gives me a look, but I shake my head and offer my cheek. She plants her lush lips on it, smearing me with lip gloss. I leave the lip mark there as the rink explodes in cheering.

  When the whistle finally blows and the puck drops I feel like we’ve been here forever. The stands are filled with savages, screaming their faces off. Hartford gets the puck on the drop and suddenly they just become players in the video game to me.

  The center flicks it to the right to the guy skating with him, right winger I think. That guy dekes around another guy, faking a pass and then skating forward fast and hard. They shout but over the sound of the stands there’s no hope of hearing them.

  Someone steals the puck by deflecting it with a skate and then passes to a cherry picker who’s just beside the Hartford line.

  Syracuse skates forward, passing and weaving but Hartford intercepts the way they did.

  They play like this for almost the entire period, teasing and taunting us with near goals and then finally something crazy happens. A guy from the Syracuse team hits a Hartford man and takes him into the boards hard. The guy drops, taking a minute. The ref blows his whistle and there’s a penalty. The Syracuse team gets boos and hisses from the crowd, and when the Hartford guy gets up I wince seeing his last name. It’s Mitch Daniels. Everyone cheers when he gets up and skates to the bench, but you can see he’s injured.

  “Why is there a penalty? I thought you were allowed to hit people.”

  “He checked from behind and violently and Mitch didn't have th
e puck. You can’t do that.” Sami knows far more than she lets on. She loves the game. Players or not.

  “How come Syracuse dude is going to the bench and not to the penalty box?” Liz points as a different player comes onto the ice. “What’s that guy doing?”

  “Jesus, you two. Read the rules. It’s a two and ten for the minor penalty and misconduct of a CFB. He’s got a two-minute penalty and he’s benched for ten minutes. His replacement can fulfill his time in the penalty box before coming out to play. Mitch’s head snapped back. He could have been injured seriously. That's a misconduct.” Sami sounds annoyed, “Now it’s a power play for Hartford. They better score.”

  Liz and I laugh, earning a scolding look from her.

  The game goes on from there with a puck drop, which Hartford wins. Syracuse plays hard, short one man for the two minutes. Their goalie is some kind of magician. Hartford takes four shots on goal over the course of the two minutes but none go in. I wish I were in control of them. I could have done way better.

  The timer goes off and the period is over.

  The Zamboni comes out as the team leaves the ice. The music starts again and the announcer begins shouting recaps of the game and playing new raffle games.

  “This is intense!” Liz shouts, looking excited. She’s clearly been won over.

  Sami grins wide. “I know, right?”

  The small break ends and they start up again. The guy from the Syracuse team waves at us. Sami waves back, nudging me to wave too. I offer a confused one. I don't know him or why he’d be interested in me. He doesn’t even know me, and I can’t remember if she said his name. I don't even care.

  The puck drops, and as with all the others, Hartford wins it. The center flicks it to the right; he does this every time. They need to work on that. The right winger brings it up, passing it to the left winger who has crossed over. The three forwards come up as a line, passing quickly and skating hard. One of the Syracuse guys does a good check, stealing the puck by sweeping it with his skate and passing to a defenseman.

  Brady is on, skating hard for the puck. He takes the guy into the boards, stealing it back. No one’s open so he brings the puck down himself, weaving gracefully.

  I jump up, shouting, “GO, BRADY!” My heart is racing and my hands are sweating.

  Sami is screaming like a crazy person.

  Brady dekes to the right, going left and moving his stick and the puck so fast I can hardly keep track of it. One of the guys tries to check him but Brady stops fast and goes the other way, dodging the guy.

  I am hopping up and down like a crazy person.

  His teammates skate with him but they don't catch him. He flicks and shoots, going for the top right part of the net. The light goes. “SCORE!” The entire arena goes insane.

  His face and number flashes on the screens.

  I become something I don't think I've ever been. Crazed.

  I shout and cheer, hugging to Sami and Liz as we all scream.

  He raises his arms up as the guys on the ice attack with hugs and slaps on the back.

  They head back for center ice.

  He looks fierce. That makes me want to peel the jersey right off him. No, fuck it. Let him keep it on. I just need his hands, face, and cock freed.

  It’s officially the dirtiest thing I have ever thought.

  “He’s agile for such a big dude!” Liz points.

  My cheeks flush as I glance down. “Yeah.” I don't want either of them to know.

  His is the only goal for the entire game, but the feeling of pride and sexual awareness don't fade. The game gets aggressive as each team attempts to score again but no one does.

  When the final timer goes, the Hartford team skates for Dean, congratulating him on the shutout.

  Liz breathes a deep breath. “Oh my God. I think that's the first time I’ve ever felt this alive.”

  “That was a brutal game!” Sami looks like she might explode, she’s vibing so hard.

  We don't wait for them to be done showering or celebrating. We head over to Vaughan’s for a drink. It’s walking distance from XL Center where they play their home games.

  We sit, just the three of us, and order a drink from the girl who was throwing herself at the guys last time we were here.

  My mom texts as I get my gin and tonic.

  We need to talk about William.

  I sigh and text back.

  No. I don't want to talk about it.

  “What?” Sami asks.

  I flash the phone, making her recoil. “Yikes. I think your mom has been planning this marriage since you were in diapers. Be strong.”

  My phone rings so I slump. “I’ll be right back.”

  Liz looks confused as I get up and leave the table.

  “Hello?”

  “William came to see your father and I. You have some serious explaining to do, young lady.”

  I get outside and lean against the side of the building. “Mom, I don't want to talk about this. Will and I are broken up, and we’re never getting back together. You need to move on.”

  “DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME I NEED TO MOVE ON! THIS HAS THAT SLUT SAMANTHA WRITTEN ALL OVER IT! YOU’RE DISGUSTING JUST LIKE SHE IS!”

  “What?” Anger starts to rise in me.

  “He told me about the repulsive situation you’re living in, with that hockey player.” She sounds like she’s had a few. “You lied to us and we trusted you. You are coming home, missy!”

  “Put Dad on.”

  “NO!”

  I end the call and call my dad’s cell phone.

  “Nat?” He sounds confused. “You okay, kiddo?” He doesn't sound like he knows anything.

  “No.” I can’t stop the rage from becoming tears. “Dad, I need you to trust me and listen to me before she gets to you. Please, just this once, pick my side.”

  He pauses. “Okay. What’s going on?”

  “When I got here there’d been a mix up. BJ turned out to be Brady Coldwell. His nickname is BJ. He thought I was Nate the computer nerd, not Nat. He’s a guy and I’m a girl but it’s cool. We’re just roommates.”

  “Brady Coldwell, the hockey player?” Of course he knows this.

  “Yeah.”

  “Holy shit, is he a nice guy?”

  I laugh. “Yeah. He’s amazing. He punched William for calling me a fucking slut after William cheated on me for the last three years with all my friends except Sami.” I’ve never said the f-word to my dad before.

  He’s silent, but I need him to register what I’m saying. “Are you and Brady an item? That's a bit risky, Nat. You live together.”

  “No, we’re not. He’s just a friend. A really awesome friend who’s made it easy for me to see that William is scum. I’m done with the whole William and I thing. I need Mom to move on. I need her to understand he’s not a nice guy. He’s rich. That's his only redeeming quality.

  My dad chuckles after a minute. “What did it look like when Brady punched him? Did William cry? I imagine he’s a crier.”

  “I don't know.” I laugh, relieved as tears trickle down my cheeks. “It was horrible and perfect. His head snapped back and then he lunged at Brady, but he can’t fight like him. William was out of his league.”

  “He was never in your league, my dear. You’ve always liked him and pined after him so I tolerated it for your sake. But calling you that name, after everything—” He pauses again. “I’m very glad Brady was there and I trust you, Nat. You’ve never given me a reason not to. William, unfortunately for your mother, has. When I meet Brady, I’d like to shake his hand.”

  “I love you, Dad.” Tears stream my cheeks.

  “I’ll take care of her. She’ll see reason on this. She just hates that we aren’t these people. We aren’t like them. We won’t ever be.”

  “I’m not trying to be a disappointment.” The words are hard to say.

  “You couldn't disappoint me if you tried to. Just live and be twenty-two. Your birthday is soon. This is your last little bit as
a twenty-two-year-old girl. Be a little reckless. Not too reckless.”

  “Okay.” I sniffle and wipe my face, grateful we used waterproof makeup. “Love you.”

  “You too, kid.” He hangs up and I turn the phone off. My mom has sent me a dozen texts filled with hate and self-pity, and I can’t read them just now.

  “Natalie Banks?”

  I turn, seeing a guy I don't know. “Yeah?” I take a step toward the door. “Do I know you?”

  He shakes his head. “No. Maybe. I don't know if you remember me. I’m a friend of Matt and Sami’s.”

  “Oh, you’re the guy she pointed out on the Syracuse team.”

  “Yeah. Sorry, where are my manners? Zach Palfrey.” He offers a hand.

  He’s tall—they’re all tall—with dark hair and bright-blue eyes. He looks like every hockey player with his grizzled scruff and sexy body, except he’s got something about him that screams blue blood.

  The last name takes a cruise through my mind until I stop. “Palfrey as in Richard Palfrey?”

  “My dad.”

  I do know him. He’s insanely rich and friends with William and Sami. We’ve met once a long time ago when William graduated. I was in ninth grade then and Sami made me come with her to the grad. “We’ve met before.”

  “Yeah, I wasn't sure if you remembered. It’s been a while.”

  “You look different.” He was skinnier then and shorter.

  “Bloomed a bit late which was good for hockey.” He laughs and shakes his head. “I got fast and efficient before I got big.”

  “I see. Sami’s inside. Want to come sit?” I grab the door handle.

  “Yeah, I was actually coming to meet her.”

  Good God, is something going on with them?

  “Cool.” I open the door and walk in ahead of him, giving Sami a weird look from across the pub.

  Her eyes widen as she gets up and leads Liz toward Zach. Sami and him hug, but it’s clearly not that kind of hug.

  Liz very clearly swoons meeting him.

  I can’t decide if I’m glad he’s here or not. I have a large lump in my stomach. It’s made of the fear that Sami has arranged our hanging out, as in his and mine. Like a blind date, two days after my boyfriend and I broke up and I screwed my roommate.