Ever my wingman, AJ was riled up now. “If Forts didn’t want an education, he’d be in the fucking NHL right now.”
Well, that wasn’t quite accurate. Most likely, I’d have been playing for San Francisco’s farm team, the Celestials, first, but now wasn’t the best time to point that out.
“Hey, settle down. Kurly’s entitled to his opinion, even if it’s wrong.” I lifted my chin at Kurlander. “Just for the record, I’m majoring in Community Entrepreneurship.”
“Entrepreneurship,” Kurlander said. “That’s a big word.”
“Yes, it is,” I said. “You know what it means?”
“Don’t be an idiot. Of course I know what it means. It means you want to go on Shark Tank.”
There was some laughter. I let it roll off my back. I had no desire to go on Shark Tank. I wasn’t planning to start a business. Not for a long time anyway, not until I retired from hockey.
“Just say the word,” AJ said under his breath. “Just say the word and I will wipe that wiseass smile right off his face.”
I gave him a small shake of the head and said to Kurlander, “Nah. If all goes well, I’ll be on TV playing hockey, not begging for money.”
“Yeah,” AJ said. “Forts won’t need money. He’ll be making millions himself.”
“Exactly my point,” Kurlander said. “His degree will be irrelevant.”
“You’re irrelevant!” someone shouted and laughter erupted as Kurlander tried to find out who’d said that and I signaled the waitress for another pitcher of beer.
“So,” AJ said to me later at the apartment, “I think you gained a few captain votes today with the clock stunt, but it’s safe to say Kurlander won’t be one of them.”
“AJ, stop.”
“I think he’s jealous of you. Right, Deke?” he said as he passed the hamster cage where Deke was running on his wheel.
“Silly me. I thought because you’re not taking a psychology class this semester, I’d be spared the psychobabble.” I slipped Deke the sprig of parsley I’d brought back from the Biscuit. He immediately left the wheel and gobbled it up.
AJ laughed. “Tell me you don’t agree with me.”
“I don’t have enough information to agree or disagree, but I do know I’m not his favorite person on the team. I’m glad we’re not on the same line.”
“See? Another reason he’s jealous. You get more ice time. Chubby Hubby or Cherry Garcia?” he asked from the kitchen.
“Cherry Garcia.”
AJ got a pint of ice cream out of the freezer and tossed it and a spoon at me, rapid fire. I caught both, but the spoon almost got away from me.
“Anyway, I heard he was badmouthing you the other day, saying how all you do is ride on your daddy’s coattails, expecting everything to be handed to you on a silver platter.”
“Fuck him. I don’t care what he says.”
“He was also trying to convince people that seniors deserve the captaincy because they’ve paid their dues, unlike some other entitled piece of shit. Those were his exact words. ‘Entitled piece of shit.’”
I held my hand up. “Not listening. Seriously.”
“Fine.” Propping his feet on the coffee table, he worked his spoon into the pint of ice cream and took a huge bite. “Let me ask you a non-team related question.”
“Shoot.”
“Do you think I have any kind of chance with Ruby? Because I keep picturing her in a grass skirt and no top, but with her hair all loose over her luscious…” He gestured at his chest with his spoon. “It’s making me fucking crazy.”
“You know, I can put your Ben and Jerry’s back in the freezer if you need to go tug the slug—hey!” I laughed as he kicked my feet off the coffee table.
“Shut up, jerk wad.”
“Hey, you’re the one who’s over-sharing.”
“I can’t help it. She’s so gorgeous, but she’s way out of my league.”
“Shut up. She is not. She liked your Princess Bride pickup line. Didn’t she?”
“Yeah.”
“Then don’t wuss out. Go for it.”
“What about you and Indi? You guys meet yet for the photography project?”
“Not yet.” I dug up a big spoonful of ice cream and ate it. I loved those dark cherries and chocolate shards in the creamy cherry ice cream. “We’re meeting at the Green Bean on campus next Monday.”
“Nice. You going to make a move?”
I lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. She doesn’t seem to be the type of girl you just hook up with and I’m not looking for long-term. On the other hand, I really like her. She’s gorgeous and smart and funny…and we have stuff in common.”
AJ worked to free a pretzel bite buried in his ice cream. “What kind of stuff?”
“We both sometimes feel like we don’t have a right to complain about stuff. Me because of my family and the money and all that, and her having been adopted from China. I mean, who knows what kind of life she’d have had? She was at a government orphanage with no family, no one looking out for her welfare but the state. Here, she has a loving mom and dad, a solid childhood, a bright future…”
“Everyone has different challenges, Hudson,” AJ said. “Just because you have a lot of advantages doesn’t mean you can’t ever be angry about something or wish things were different. Just be grateful for what you have and live your life. If you spend all your time feeling bad about it, then what’s the point? If you have it, enjoy it, otherwise it’s a waste.”
“Shit, AJ. That’s pretty fucking philosophical.”
“Right?” He grinned. “Sometimes I amaze myself.”
10
Indi
The campus coffee joint, called Green Bean, was hopping with students grabbing a caffeine hit so they could face their afternoons. I loved the smell of coffee and was looking forward to treating myself with something sweet. They had a fairly decent variety of hot, iced and blended drinks.
“Right on time,” Hudson said as he came up to me near the entryway. “Let’s order. I already staked out a table for us.”
“Great.”
I ended up getting this crazy milkshake that was kind of pricey, a creamy blend of coconut, peanut butter, chocolate, ice cream and cold brewed iced coffee.
Hudson ordered the same thing and tried to pay, but I wouldn’t let him.
“This going directly to my hips,” I said after we sat down. “I should actually just never come in here. I always end up getting that almond croissant. It’s irresistible.”
“No kidding,” Hudson agreed.
I scoffed. “With all that muscle on you, I’m sure you burn more calories just breathing than I would during an hour-long spin class.”
“Probably,” he said, glancing down at the arm holding his drink and flexing.
Yowsa. The sleeve of his T-shirt stretched to accommodate his bicep which did all sorts of crazy things to my insides. I’ll say one thing about jocks, they’re nice to look at. Hudson was wearing some well-worn jeans and a dark gray T-shirt that emphasized his impressive physique. His blond hair shone even under the fluorescent lights and the stubble on his face was dangerously sexy.
I took a sip of my Peanut Butter Mocha Tempest in an attempt to cool down.
“So, let’s get to it. I have to be at hockey practice soon.”
We pulled out our laptops and somehow positioned them onto the small circular table without knocking over our shakes.
The first part of the project required us to interview each other using a provided list of questions and write a two-paragraph essay about our partner and what traits we hoped to convey in the portrait. For part two, we were to take the photographs and title them.
“Did you read the list of questions?” he asked. “For some reason, I expected them to be a lot more generic.”
“Me too,” I said. “We’re supposed to choose any five questions, but to be honest, there are a lot more than five that I found to be interesting.”
“I’m pretty easy
, so you pick.”
“Okay.”
I perused the list and read the first one that jumped out at me. “What is something you were afraid of as a kid and are still afraid of now? I’ll go first on this one. Did anyone ever tell you when you were a kid that if you stood in the bathroom, turned the lights off and said Bloody Mary three times, she would appear in the mirror behind you?”
He laughed. “Sure. I heard that story.”
“Well, because of that I will never look directly in the mirror in a dark bathroom. Not now. Not ever. Yeah, go ahead and laugh. I know it’s dumb, but there it is. What about you?” I asked.
“Me?” He looked a little sheepish. “I’m actually really afraid of doctors. When I was a toddler, I had to have my blood drawn for some reason and the lady trying to do it was horrible. She couldn’t find the vein and they ended up having to hold me down to get the needle in. Ever since then, I’ve been really afraid to go to the doctor.”
“I don’t blame you. That sounds really traumatic.”
“All right,” he said, “one question down and four to go. What’s next?” He sipped his shake then scooped out a finger full of whipped cream and ate it with gusto.
Trying not to imagine him licking whipped cream off my finger, I flipped the page. I kept finding questions I wanted to know the answer to from him but that I didn’t want to answer myself, like “What is something you’re self-conscious about?” “What’s your greatest fear?” “What were some of the turning points in your life?”
In the end, I said, “I can’t decide, so pick a number between one and two hundred.”
“Eleven. That’s my lucky number,” he said with a grin.
I consulted the question list. “Number eleven. ‘What’s worth paying more for to get the best?’ Oh, my answer is makeup,” I said without thinking.
He cocked his head at me, his eyes widening in interest.
Good job, Indi. Now I’d called attention to my makeup. The urge to check my face was so strong, I had to sit on my hand so I wouldn’t pick up my phone. I prayed nothing had smudged.
“You know, I’ve never bought makeup myself,” he said. “But is there really that much difference between expensive makeup and stuff you can get at the drug store?”
This guy had no idea what he was asking. There’s a lot of trial and error involved in finding makeup that will cover up a purple blotch on your face and not make you feel like you’re wearing a layer of flesh-colored plaster. When I finally found products that I liked, they were all pretty pricey, but the cost didn’t matter to me.
“There’s some stuff I buy at the drug store—mascara, nail polish, lipstick,” I said. “For those things, the difference in quality doesn’t matter to me. Other stuff, like foundation, concealer and powder, I pay a lot more for.”
“Huh.”
The puzzled expression on his face was kind of adorable. It was as if I’d just talked to him in Swahili.
“If you want to see what I mean,” I said, “I’d be happy to demonstrate on your face.”
His bewildered expression turned instantly to one of horror. “Ah, no thanks. Makeup’s not my thing. Like, in a big way. This is my face and I’m happy with it.”
That’s because you got dealt the royal flush of faces.
“Not that I’m against dudes who want to wear it,” he went on still clearly flustered. “Whatever floats your boat, you know? It’s a free country. I just don’t play for that team.”
Like I needed reminding. Every cell in my body, especially the ones in my erogenous zones, were on high alert. Maybe virgins were genetically programmed to respond to virile males. I’d learned in one of my classes that it had never been proven that humans produced sexual pheromones, but I was pretty sure this particular human was emitting pheromones like an essential oil diffuser set on turbo.
But then I reminded myself he was a friend and classmate. That was all. Because to assume anything more was to doom myself to disappointment.
“So what, to you, is worth paying more for?” I asked. “A nice pair of heels?”
“Ha! You’re funny,” he said, laughing. “I don’t know that I actually believe in that whole idea. I’m not the kind of person who always demands the best. I’m more interested in value. Expensive things can be worth it, but most times, I think, you can be just as happy with something that doesn’t cost as much.”
This attitude surprised me. I assumed, as the son of a professional athlete, he’d grown up surrounded by largesse. Those guys made millions a year, didn’t they?
“Okay, we have three more questions but I only have that one lucky number, so let’s do eleven times eleven, which is one-twenty-one.”
I referred to the list one more time. “‘Is there anything you wish would come back into fashion?’”
He thought for a moment. “This is going to sound strange, but I wish hats were something guys wore every day, stylish hats like the fedora. I liked that bit of panache they added. I really like how they could be used to show respect.”
“You mean like when cowboys tip their hats?”
“Yes, exactly.”
“You could start a new trend yourself, you know. Just wear a fedora. See what happens.”
He laughed. “Very funny. You don’t know hockey players very well. I would get so much shit from the team if I did that. It wouldn’t be worth it. Besides, you have to be an influencer to start a fashion.”
“You’re probably right.” I leaned back and squinted at him. “But you’d look damn good in a fedora.”
I was rewarded with another one of his supernova smiles.
“What about you?” He stirred his drink with his straw. “What fashion would you like to come back?”
“I like your hat idea, but I already know you want me to come up with my own answer.” I sighed. “You know, I have to say, I kind of wish there was no such thing as fashion and that we could all wear whatever we wanted to.”
This was because the only reason I had outfits that went together was because I saw them in the window or on a mannequin.
“Theoretically, we can,” he said. “But it would never happen.”
“Why not?”
“Humans need to bond with other humans, to form groups. There’s safety in numbers and, back in the caveman days, you were more likely to survive in a group than alone. Dressing like everyone else is part of that. That’s my theory, anyway. So you wish everything would come back into fashion. Is that your answer?”
I looked around the Green Bean and imagined what it would be like if everyone dressed in a fashion vacuum.
I frowned and shook my head. “You know what? No. That would actually probably be too chaotic. Like every day was a comic con. I think our eyes would get tired of all the visual noise. Plus, too much choice makes it harder to choose.”
“Yeah, that’s called choice overload. It’s a phenomenon that we’re covering in my Behavioral Economics class. Lots of options get people to browse, but sometimes fewer choices can get them to buy. Isn’t that crazy? In fact, there’s this big grocery store chain that’s actively working on reducing the number of items they sell, based on studies about choice.”
“That’s really interesting,” I said. “You almost make me want to take an economics class. And that’s saying something.”
His phone alarm went off. “Damn. I need to get going soon. I have practice. We’re electing the team captain today.”
Even though I knew the afternoon couldn’t last forever, my heart sank.
“I had a really good time. I like the way you think, Indi Briscoe.”
“Ditto,” I said. My heart started beating faster as he tilted his head just slightly and leaned forward reaching out with one hand.
I froze.
Was he going to…?
And then he did.
He kissed me. It was brief, over before I even registered the fact that his lips were on mine. But the kiss lasted long enough for me to notice how warm his hand was as it cu
rled around the back of my neck, that he smelled like autumn and coffee and a hint peppery sweat and that my body needed his like Vegas needed gamblers.
Before he pulled away, he touched his forehead to mine gently and let out a sigh that was part regret and part desire.
“I like the way you taste too,” he said in a voice that got me even more riled up. I wanted to feel those words against my skin, with both of us naked or close to, somewhere where we could do all the things that kiss begged us to do.
11
Hudson
As a hockey player, I’m usually highly aware of what’s going on around me, but right now, everything faded into the background and all that registered was the softness of Indi’s lips and how she tasted faintly of chocolate and peanut butter.
She didn’t respond at all at first. It was like kissing a mannequin. For a moment, I thought, okay, there wasn’t any chemistry after all. It happens. But then, she woke up and started to kiss me back and I immediately realized that there was enough chemistry to light a building on fire. She was eager and responsive and I wanted more—a lot more—but I couldn’t go to practice with a hard-on so, with extreme difficulty, I pulled back.
“Can we, ah, finish later tonight after practice? We can go out and grab dinner, my treat. It’s my fault I didn’t allot enough time for this. For some reason, I thought we could bang this out in an hour…”
She touched her full lips with her fingertips and I noticed how elegant her hands were. She had slender fingers and bare nails, short enough to be practical but long enough to be feminine. It was satisfying to my ego that she seemed a little dazed.
“Indi? Dinner?”
“Dinner’s fine,” she said, snapping out of it. “What time?”
“Do you live on-campus?”
She nodded. “In Carter Hall.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
When I got to practice, I didn’t have much time to dress. My locker room stall was next to AJ’s.
Darkroom: A Moo U Hockey Romance Page 6
