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But I’ve never actually seen him…
Ok, I’ve seen a sliver of delicious abs, since his profile is him, sans shirt, holding a fluffy cat. Unfortunately, the picture is cropped, so I can’t see his face, but those abs are drool worthy. And I don’t even like cats.
We met on our school's messaging app, WolfChat. Most people use it to connect with classmates or other students in their major. But a lot of people use it as a hookup app. Catlover99 and I? I’d guess we’re somewhere in between. He posted a question about a class I’d taken, so I responded: Don’t take Intro to Game Design unless you’re a hardcore gamer with a controller attached to your hip who wants to cosplay on the weekend. No shade, but this class is not for novices. And the professor is a sexist asshole.
I was brutally honest in my answer, and I had good reason. That class was awful. Maybe my bad experience was due in part to the fact that I took it with my ex-boyfriend. We’d been dating when he had the genius idea of coordinating our schedules so we could see more of each other. At the time, I thought it was the sweetest gesture. Fast forward a few months to the beginning of last semester, and I was no longer sold on the idea. But that was because just before the start of the new year, my boyfriend got a new girlfriend. Yep. He dumped me and started dating her. Or, more likely, it was the other way around, but I’m not dwelling on that. The fact is, I had to sit right next to Ethan for every infuriating minute of that class.
Though I haven’t reached peak gamer status, I’m no newb. I could have totally held my own in that class, even if I was the only girl, but the professor treated it like a boys’ club. He was sexist in his attitude and language, but also in his curriculum. One of our assignments was to create our ideal video game babe. For real. And when I pointed out that “babe” was an archaic, patronizing term, and that maybe some members of the class would prefer to create a male or non-binary character, he mocked me openly.
And Ethan said nothing. He just laughed, right along with the rest of the guys.
So, I was not kind in my assessment of the class, but I guess that appealed to Catlover99 because we started chatting and haven’t stopped since. It’s been over a month now and our conversations have ranged from polite to personal. We started out with all of the Hey, hope you’re having a good day kind of chats and graduated to venting about roommates and classes and life. We send each other memes and funny videos. We talk about nothing and everything. We never get too specific, which feels a little strange because behind the guise of my handle, Seriousley617, I’ve shared some pretty personal stuff. It’s weird how anonymity makes it easier to spill things I’d probably never say out loud. I’ve confided in Catlover99 about my fears about the future. Sure, I tell everyone in my life that I’m ready and excited to take the next steps: to graduate and become a nurse. It’s what I’ve wanted since I can remember. But now that it’s almost here? I’m a little terrified. I know I’ve worked hard, and I know I’m capable, but I’m also nervous and intimidated and worried. Those are things I’m not sharing with my adviser, who would kindly roll her eyes and tell me I’m doing great. I’m also not telling my dad, who’s paid for my education. And I’m not even venting to my older sister, Molly, who’s my biggest cheerleader.
But behind the safety of a phone screen, I’m brave and bold enough to tell a total stranger. Although, I guess he’s not a total stranger. I don’t know what he looks like, or what his major is, but I know he loved his roommates, but didn’t love living with them. I know he’s scared about the future, just like I am. He hasn’t come right out and said it, but I’m pretty sure he’s a drama major because when he talks about the future, it’s in all caps, like it’s this looming thing that is both hugely important and a little out of his control. And he’s gone in the evenings for hours at a stretch, so I figure he’s at rehearsal. He’s as busy as I am, which is kind of nice. Ethan, my ex, always complained I never had time for him, but Catlover99 makes no demands on my time. He seems to get what it’s like to have a hectic schedule, since I get texts from him at odd hours, too.
I really do need to get back to work, though. I need to finish my notes for this chapter so I can head back to my apartment, pack, and make it home by dinnertime. I’m going home for less than 48 hours--a whirlwind tour of turkey and relatives, so I feel obligated not to be late. I’ll do dinner with my mom’s family tonight, and with my dad’s family tomorrow, then go shopping with my sister Molly on Friday, and be back on campus in time to grab food and cram in a few more hours of studying Friday evening.
Seriousley617: There’s no way that video is real.
Catlover99: Yes, way. I should know. I’ve probably viewed it 400 times.
Seriousley617: That guy's eyebrows will never be the same…
Catlover99: Nope. But that’s probably why the video went viral. Serves him right for thinking he could extinguish a candle with his tongue...Although, honestly, I could see some of my buddies doing the same thing.
I text back some laughing emojis and can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. We laugh at silly stuff, but our conversations make my day.
My smile falters as the bell on the door jingles and a couple of hockey players walk in. Booker Zabek leads the pack, and it’s easy to see why. He’s sweet and charming and sends a wave in my direction. Booker’s not the reason for my frown. Nope. That would be Ethan Schuler, my ex, who's following right behind him. We offer each other stiff smiles. That's our pattern these days. Don’t get me wrong: I’m over Ethan and I have no desire for a repeat. What I’m not over is how it ended. But I learned my lesson. No more jocks for me. I’m over the whole self-absorbed athlete thing. I want to spend time with a regular guy who doesn’t think he’s God’s gift to the students of Bainbridge University. Someone like Catlover99.
And someone very unlike Koz.
Koz is bringing up the rear of their little hockey trio and that’s fitting, since he’s such an ass. Ok, maybe that’s a little harsh, but the truth is that Koz and I have rubbed each other the wrong way since day one. He and Ethan both live at the hockey house, so he was always around--always there to tease me or give me a hard time. Though, honestly, I gave it right back. And I kicked his ass more than once at Call of Duty.
Whereas Booker offered a wave and Ethan managed a civil nod in my direction, Koz has to stop and chat. I swear he does it because he knows he drives me crazy.
Approaching my table, he spins the empty chair around and settles his 6’2”, 200 lb frame into it.
“Ice Queen, how kind of you to let the rest of us bask in your presence,” he says, pocketing his phone and looking in my direction.
That nickname makes me want to strangle him. Back when Ethan and I were together, Koz swore that he called me that because my boyfriend was king of the ice. But that was bullshit. First off, Ethan’s a decent player, but he’s no star. As much as I’m loath to admit it, Koz is a much better player. But I was never fooled by his too-smooth explanation. Koz thinks I’m uptight. Too serious. Too focused. He told me once he’d happily help me remove the stick from my ass.
I told him I could easily take it out and shove it down his throat.
And sue me for being focused. Not all of us have stellar athletic talent and offers from pro sports teams pouring in. I’ve worked hard for every accolade I’ve received and all of that is going to land me the job I’ve always wanted.
Even if I’m suddenly second-guessing everything about the life I’ve carved out for myself. Once upon a time, I was so sure about everything--I had the perfect boyfriend, the perfect GPA, and the major I’d wanted before I knew its official title. When I was little, I used to tell relatives I was going to be a sick baby nurse, and I’ve spent the last 3+ years pursuing that goal. And I still want that. I mean, I love my time at the hospital...it’s just...there’s a nagging feeling at the back of my mind asking if I was so wrong about Ethan, what else was I wrong about? What happens when I’m on the floor in a crisis situation? Will all my training kick in? Or will I fall short, the way I fell short with him?
My hand covers my phone, as if it knows that the best way to stop the nasty, anxious thoughts in my head is to message Catlover99.
But Koz is still talking. Good Lord, can the guy not take a hint?
“What’s up with that? You haven’t been to a single game, Ash. You used to be one of our biggest fans.”
Is he serious? “Yea, and I also used to date one of your d-men. We broke up nearly a year ago. I don’t have to go to any of your games now.”
If I’m not mistaken, he actually looks hurt. He’s a pretty good actor though. Maybe he should try out for plays like Catlover99 does. Or, like I imagine he does. Although, scratch that. Those two would never get along.
“Ouch, Ash. You broke up with Ethan, not the team. We’re killing it this year. Booker’s on fire and Ollie’s even crazier on the ice than in real life.”
