by Abby Donne
Hooked
Abby Donne
Copyright © 2018
book playlist
Bloom – Troye Sivan
Warpaint – Ivory Hours
Nineteen – Hayley Williams
Stay – Post Malone
Now or Never – Halsey
Swoon – Beach Weather
EASE – Troye Sivan, Broods
Speechless – Glades
Black Butterflies and Déjà Vu – The Maine
Scary Love – The Neighbourhood
Mean It – K.Flay
Broken – lovelytheband
Passenger Side – Smallpools
New Religion – The Heydaze
Warm Blood – flor
Makeout – Faze Wave
Move with the Tide - Sucre
chapter one
Insanity was the only explanation for Tyson Briggs walking to an elective course at eight am his senior year at Stanberry University. Maybe one too many pucks to the chest. A concussion had to be the only legit reasoning behind this “Craft of Fiction” course because looking back, there was no way he would’ve signed up for it with a clear head. Maybe a bullshit filler class like racquetball or even yoga but not an English class. Especially not an English class at, one more time in case it was missed, eight in the goddamn morning. Once practice started he’d be up before the sun, so it wouldn’t be a big deal, but it was his last year and he wanted just a few weeks of sleeping in before the fun started.
“You still asleep?” Heath bumped his shoulder against Tyson’s as he jogged down the paved path in the quad, turning to flash him a smile that pissed him off. “C’mon, man. This is going to be so much fun. Perk up a little.”
Heath’s definition of fun was a lot different than Tyson’s, apparently.
“I’m thrilled,” Tyson grunted. He finished off the last of his protein shake and tucked the bottle in the side pocket of his bag. Breakfast of champions.
“You don’t understand. Listen, Matt McDowel from the football team took this last semester because it was the only elective he could fit. He said it was babe city. We just have to sit there and say a few things about some dead authors and ‘boom!’, all the artsy girls will be lining up for a piece of sensitive athlete pie.”
“I knew your game was weak but this just seems desperate.”
Heath’s eyes gleamed. “Far from desperate. I’m tired of the same circle of girls. This is an untapped area, and I’m here to fulfill all their wildest fantasies.”
“Yeah, still sounding desperate to me, dude.”
“Yet you’re right here with me. Admit it; you want that sweet, sweet, nerd pussy.”
“I have a refined pallet. I’ve seen the kind of girls you bring home, but you’re really telling me you’ve never been with anyone but puck bunnies?”
Shrugging as they walked into the nondescript building on the edge of campus, Heath said, “I guess. Remember that Erica girl I dated freshman year? She was some kind of art major.”
“Sure, I remember.”
How could Tyson not remember Erica? Back then Tyson and Heath weren’t nearly as close as they were now. They lived in the same dorm on the same floor – Erica, too. Curvy with raven hair and a mousey face, she was the last person he expected to be on Heath’s radar. But a few weeks into their first semester the two were all over one another in a way that was, frankly, a little gross to witness. It ended as quickly as it started, but Tyson remembered Heath stomping around like a prick for the rest of the semester. He was pretty sure the guy only made it on the hockey team because he was taking his anger out on the ice, making for some damn good aggressive playing.
“Anyway,” Heath huffed, pulling his flat bill off his head and flexing the hat. “My pallet is going to get a hell of a lot more refined this semester. All work and no play makes Heath a sad, sad boy.”
“Heath getting too wrapped up in sex and being a dumbass on the ice makes Tyson a mad, mad boy.”
“Don’t talk about yourself in third person. It’s weird.”
“You did it first, dumbass.”
“Well it’s weird!” Heath exclaimed just before they walked into room one-ten.
Eyes swung to look at them. Neither were strangers to being stared at. It wasn’t Tyson’s ego talking. Ever since officially becoming a part of Stanberry’s hockey team their freshman year they got a lot of attention, on and off the ice. If Tyson had to put a bet on why people were staring, it was probably the whole walking in exactly at nine for class thing. From the bare desk and podium at the front of the room it didn’t look like their professor was there yet though, so he considered it a strike of luck. The last thing he wanted was to already be on some old bat’s radar.
Downside to not showing up early? The seating choices were horse shit. The classroom was one of those weird interactive rooms with circle tables instead of individual desks. There was one individual spot left front and center in between two dudes wearing fedoras – both in fucking fedoras in August. Half a table was free on the other side of the room, which was where Heath was heading. The guy there looked normal enough. He wasn’t wearing a fedora, which put him on Tyson’s good side. The bar, apparently, was low in this class. Across from him on the opposite side of the table was a girl, but all Tyson could see was a streak of teal in her brown hair and tan skin.
The closer they got, the more apprehensive he got. Maybe they smelled and were being segregated. Or maybe the guy had crazy eyes and the girl had an obnoxious voice. There had to be some reason the entire class was full aside from four chairs at this table.
“Is it cool if we sit here?” Heath asked the guy, already dropping his stuff on the table.
He looked up from his phone, expression totally bored. “Sure.”
The table shifted when their bags hit the top, and it must’ve jostled the girl’s attention. She looked up, frowned, then her head went back down to her phone. The entire movement took less than two seconds, but it took Tyson off guard completely. She was fucking hot. Hot enough to maybe make sitting at this table in this God awful class worth it, even if her laugh was hypothetically annoying.
He could put up with a lot of shit for a pretty girl. Especially one with permanent bedroom eyes and a button nose speckled with freckles.
Tyson was definitely staring when their professor finally showed up and the girl pulled her earbuds out, twirling them around her phone and shoving it in her bag. He didn’t even care that she caught him and offered up another frown.
“Sorry!” A flash crossed the room in two strides. “Sorry, everyone. I forgot how shitty parking is on this side of campus. I had to park all the way down by my office and walk here.”
“Dude,” Heath muttered, nudging him. “She’s hot.”
Tyson’s eyes went to the girl with the blue in her hair. “Yeah.”
“Fucking look,” Heath said, hitting him again. “Our professor. Now I see what Matt was talking about.”
He swiveled in his chair to get a look at the front of the room. She was something to look at. Definitely younger than he thought. Hell, she looked only a few years older than him. She was wearing some weird geometric shirt that showed a lot of cleavage and one of those pencil skirts that showed every curve. Thick black glasses perched on her nose.
Maybe Tyson was being harsh on this class. Stupid elective? Sure. But he was getting a good look down this chick’s shirt when she bent down to drop her bag off on the desk. He was no better than Heath at this point.
“Anyway,” She said, ending her rambling about parking. She straightened, looked over the class, then went right to the computer and started typing. “Welcome to Craft of Fiction. I’m Jackie. Please call me Jackie or Miss Lobell. I’m not fortunate e
nough to be a professor yet.”
The syllabus appeared on the projector. It showed up online a week before class started, but Tyson had been dreading the course so much he didn’t even look at it. He was still on the fence about dropping the course, even with the eye candy, so he didn’t have any of the four required books either.
“So, before we get started I want to go around the room any have everyone introduce themselves.” The groaning started. Icebreakers sounded about as fun as a busted lip. It was his senior year; he was tired of telling everyone his name and a damn fun fact. “Oh, stop it. I’m not going to make everyone hold hands and sing. I just want a name, major, and why you’re in this class.”
Oh, this was going to be awful. Maybe even worse than holding hands and singing. Tyson looked over at Heath and narrowed his eyes. Knowing him, Heath would probably publicly announce he was there to find girls to hook up with. The sly smile Tyson got in return made him roll his eyes.
Thankfully, Miss Lobell started on the other side of the room. The fedora twins were unsurprisingly friends, both taking the class because they had a magnificent idea for a fantasy novel. There couldn’t be more than thirty people in the room, but it felt like time was going in slow motion as everyone excitedly talked about their passion for writing or some great idea they had.
And then it was his table’s turn.
“Uh, my name is Pete. I’m a junior studying Economics. I’m here because this is a pre-req for a course I’m taking next semester.”
Tyson liked Pete. He was straight to the point, and he obviously didn’t care that Jackie was frowning at him from the head of the room. If she was frowning at no-nonsense Pete, he was curious to see how she was going to react to Heath’s big mouth.
“I’m Heath.” Speak of the devil. He grinned while he spoke, “Senior Construction Management major, and I’m definitely here for the babes.”
A couple snickers echoed around the room. Jackie failed to comment, so Tyson went on with the program.
“My name is Tyson, and I’m a senior studying Sports Management. I’m here because I need one more elective before I can start my internship next semester and a friend told me this class was fun.”
Politically correct enough, he figured. It was better than saying ‘I think I was drunk when Heath convinced me to sign up for this because his friend told him it’s a good way to find willing fuck buddies’.
Now on to what he really wanted. Tyson turned in his chair to lock eyes with his neighbor. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and offered everyone a friendly smile. “Hi, my name is Layla. I’m studying Computer Science, and I’m also here because I needed an elective before I start my capstone next semester.”
Out of thirty people how did the four only taking the course to fill a pre-req get segregated at one table? Maybe all the crafty kids had a third eye for it and left the seats vacant on purpose.
From the front of the room, Jackie drawled, frown still in place, “Wonderful. I’m glad we have such a diverse group of students.”
She started going over the syllabus, outlining their every movement for the next fifteen weeks. If it sounded interesting in the slightest he would’ve payed attention, honestly, but her voice was the white noise that kept the masses around him salivating in their seats while he stared blankly at the screen trying not to stare at Layla.
Tyson had an awesome summer back home in Green Bay. He saw all his old friends, hit up a development camp for the Blackhawks, played street hockey in his cul-de-sac, partied every Friday night, and hooked up with an old high school girlfriend on and off. Honestly probably the best summer of his entire life. He was in his prime, completely and totally ready to tackle his senior year. There was no reason for him to rock a chubby in a dumb class he didn’t want to take because there was a hot chick sitting next to him. A hot chick who smiled at everyone but him when she looked around the room. Not that he was paying attention to that.
When Jackie assigned the reading and dismissed them twenty minutes before their scheduled end time, Layla booked it out of the room before he even had a chance to look her way.
Heath slung his bag over his shoulder and waggled his eyebrows at Tyson as they filtered out of the room. “She totally digs me.”
“What? Who?”
“Jackie, dude.”
Tyson snorted. His eyes rolled like bowling balls. “Sure. Whatever you say.”
“Just wait and see.” In front of him, Heath was wringing his hands like a mad genius. As they walked out into the quad, which was far more crowded now with students and professors alike milling around, he announced, “I have a plan.”
“None of your plans work out. Historically, I think you’ve had two successful thoughts. Like in your entire life.”
Heath punched Tyson’s shoulder, making him jump. “Fucker. Without me you wouldn’t be making ‘come fuck me’ eyes at that blue haired chick. Not your typical go to, but I see it.”
“Yeah? You see that look she gave me back?”
“Oh, she’s hot for you.” He said it so confidently Tyson almost believed him. “It’s the same look Jackie was giving me.”
“I hate to break it to you, man, but that’s a look of pure disgust.”
“There’s a fine line between love and hate.”
One class and Heath was already waxing poetics. Lucky for Tyson, one of their teammates spotted them and jogged over saving him from any more of Heath’s verbal diarrhea. For the time being, at least. Following them until he had to split off to head to his next class, Tyson listened to Heath and Artie go back and forth about getting back on the ice.
By the time he left his next class an hour later and headed to the Student Union for a bite to eat, Tyson started to feel a little more normal. Normal enough to not get whiplash when he passed Layla in one of the commute parking lots. He breezed past her to the beat of the rap song bumping in his ears like she was a stranger. Mostly because she was.
He drove to the off-campus house he rented with Heath and two other guys from the team feeling like he was on top of the world. He was going to crush his senior year – he could feel it.
Tyson was restless and quite frankly, annoyed. At who, he wasn’t entirely sure. Himself, for sure, for tossing and turning all night until he finally got up at five and headed to the rec for an early morning workout. He had four weeks until practice officially started, two until they were allowed to step foot on the ice at the arena. Two weeks until the early morning skate sessions and evenings at the weight room began. Whatever happened to sleeping in as much as possible until then?
He bounced on his heels and rolled his eyes. Sleeping in. A goddamn myth. At least he wouldn’t be almost late to class. Getting up before the birds had its perks, like being the only car in line at The Buzz and getting the freshest fruit at the only café open in the Union.
And getting to see Layla walk into class without Heath making dumb ass remarks in his ear.
She was wearing overall shorts with a tie-dye crop top underneath, dirty chucks on her feet. Her hair was in two braids, the chunk of teal woven in like a patch of clear skies on a cloudy day. She was wearing makeup the first day, too, but her glossy pink lips and dark lined eyes were doing something to make all the blood in his body rush to his dick. It could have something to do with the way those lips were wrapped around a straw as she bounced into the room, headphones in, without a care in the world. He really hoped she was listening to music and didn’t hear the pained groan he let off when she dropped her bag next to him at the table.
Unfortunately, good ol’ Pete across the table heard it. He snorted, looking up to smirk at Tyson, before his nose went right back to his phone. Whatever he was doing on it had to be super fucking important because nothing would have distracted Tyson from all the bare sun kissed skin next to him. Right next to him. She didn’t sit two seats away or at another table. That had to mean she didn’t hate him as much as he thought, right?
Heath walked in, eyes wagging at Layla be
hind her back. He plopped down on the other side of Tyson, causing her to look up for a second.
“I would’ve gone with you to the rec this morning if you would’ve knocked on my door.”
Tyson leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms behind his head. “Yeah, right. I heard you playing Pub all night.”
It was better than hearing moans all night, but it was still annoying at two am when you’re trying to sleep.
“Well I was carrying everyone on my fucking back. Sorry if I got rowdy. Pure unfiltered athleticism and perfection can’t be contained.”
“Fuck off, man,” Tyson laughed, leaning forward.
Layla looked up again, her eyes zeroing right in on his mouth before flicking up to meet his gaze. He smirked. She frowned. Breaking their stare, she looked down at her phone for a second before tugging her earbuds out and wrapping them up again. Unsurprisingly, Jackie was running behind. Bet she had to park across campus again. Like the first day of class was a weird parking anomaly.
“Don’t make plans for this weekend,” Heath said, snapping Tyson’s attention back to the other side of the table. He looked over just in time to see him pocketing his phone. “Matt said they’re throwing a party Friday night. At their welcome bash last year they had that wet t-shirt competition, remember? We totally crushed it all night, and I took that Alpha Phi chick home who wanted me to call her ‘Daddy’.”
“Well did you?”
Tyson looked over his shoulder. Beside him, Heath coughed and leaned forward. Elbows resting on the table, bored expression on her face, Layla tapped her fingers waiting for his response.
“I aim to satisfy,” Heath said with a wink. Without missing a beat he added, “You should come. It’s the big red house across from the rec.”
Tyson didn’t know if he wanted to kiss Heath or punch his lights out.
“I’m confident I could beat you at pong and a wet t-shirt competition but I’m busy. Sorry.”
Biting back a groan at the thought of her tits outlined under a soaked white shirt, he looked her and managed to not look at her chest. Tyson: 01, Layla: 00.
