Channel it productively or leave it at the door.My thoughts running on a loop are what if Lucy wants nothing to do with me because of my sister, what if my sister cockblocks me for the rest of my life, and what if I never get a chance to eat Lucy out. I want to eat her pretty pussy.Fuck. I’m leaving it at the door.I run the drill again. I run it correctly this time, letting my mind go blank. Coach doesn’t applaud my skills of not thinking about Lucy, so I pat my own damn back when I don’t fuck it up.
I sit through Markham’s class without absorbing more than half of the lecture. The midterm is two weeks out. I’m not worried about it because I have the best tutor on the planet.
That night, the kitchen is full. Stanley is at the island. Percy and Blue are at the table. Rowan is at the stove like the housewife he is. They’re all talking about hockey and about the girl Stanley kissed on Friday.
Rowan asks, “Is this Allie one or Allie two?”
Stan says, “Allie one is the bartender. Allie two is the marketing major.”
“Allie three?”
“There’s a third?” I shake my head.
“Allie three did not text me back. We do not speak of Allie three.”
Speaking of text messages, I pull out my phone. Zero notifications. Okay, that’s not entirely true. Stanley here has codependence and is always texting the group throughout the day, so technically, I have thirty-four unread text messages, but I have nothing from Lucy. She hasn’t called or texted, and I’m sick of waiting around, so I start typing.
Me:Tomorrow at four.
It’s the best that I can do for now. Blue catches my eyes, but I ignore him. I can’t stop thinking about this girl. It’s taking everything in me not to find her and force her to tell me what’s going on in that head of hers.
It’s not until I’m in bed that my phone vibrates.
Lucy:Tomorrow at four.
Thank God.
Me:Goodnight, Lucy.Lucy:Goodnight, Benson.
Two text messages and I feel like a new man.
Tuesday morning practice is fine. I’m at the rink at six, and I stay sharp on the drills. I run the rush with Blue and Stanley, and we look like the line that scored three goals on Friday. Coach nods at me once on the way past the bench, and the rest of the practice happens around me.
I shower at the rink, put on the jeans and the clean Camden U hoodie I laid out last night. I eat lunch at the dining hall with Walsh and his girlfriend. She goes through the roster of drama with her basketball team. Man, I’m glad to have a good group of hockey players this year.
By three-forty, I’m at the library, taking the stairs to the third floor with my heart pounding in my chest like there’s something wrong with me. I open the door to 3B at three forty-two. I pick the chair facing the door and pull out my notebook and textbook. I open the textbook to the chapter Markham covered on Friday because that is where Lucy will want to start, and I write the date in the corner of the notebook page.
I sit and wait patiently.
At three fifty-nine, the door opens. Her hair is up in the small black clip. Her tote is over her left shoulder and the strap is slipping. Her lips are extra glossy today, and I’m determined to find out what flavor it is. It feels like I haven’t seen her in so long that my heart starts to race because I have no idea what to do with myself, and the silence is deafening.
I’m annoyed with myself that her lip gloss is the thing I am locking onto. It’s all I’m fucking looking at. My sister kicked her out of her home, and I have the audacity to stare at her mouth.
She sets her tote on the chair next to hers and unloads it the same way she always does. Her pencil case to the left of the textbook, highlighters to the right in their order, and the pencils with the bite marks.
She lays her hands flat on the table and leans down. “Hi.”
I smile, searching her face for permission. “Hi.”
“How early did you get here?” she asks, staring back at me.
“Day late and a dollar short to find out, babe.”
She sits on the chair, keeping her posture tall.
“How are you?” I ask, fidgeting with the pencil I stole from her. I’m pressing my fingertips into the end where she bit it. I catch her watching my hands.
“I’m good.”
