“You might want to tell your face that, Cleo, because your face says you might have a teenie little crush on the boy living in your phone.”
Chapter 3
Lincoln
Sweat trickled down Lincoln’s neck as he took the stairs two at a time up to his dorm. His legs burned and his shoulders ached, but in all the best ways. The only thing better than a rush of endorphins from working out, was the rush of endorphins from a hockey game. Well, that, and the rush of endorphins that came from doing a different kind of exercise with a beautiful woman.
“Another run?” His roommate and best friend, Russ, handed him a chilled bottle of water as he entered the room. Russ’s two year old daughter was at his parent’s house off campus. While they technically lived together, Russ split his time between the dorms and his folk’s place. How he managed being a dad, school, and playing hockey, Linc would never know. The guy was a machine.
“Nah.” Linc twisted the top off and took a few gulps. “Not by design anyway. Got chased down the street by a T-rex.” He raised his bottle in salute to Russ before downing what was left, crushing the bottle like an accordion and throwing it at the trash can across the room. He missed.
“Know how I know you love me, man? When you get all up in your sarcastic prickness.” Russ winked. “No, really, it’s totes adorbs. Where do you get the energy from? I can barely keep up with Coach’s daily workouts and practices. And here you are, looking like, well…” He gestured an open hand from Linc’s head to his feet. “Fresh as a daisy after doing your second extra run of the week.”
“Third.” Linc picked up the bottle and threw it in the trash can. “Hashtag humble brag.” He pulled his shirt over his head, rolled it into a ball, and dropped it at his feet. “And some of us have to actually work on the ice, y’know? We don’t all just cruise along the blue line waiting for the puck to come at us. Not to mention, gotta keep in shape for the ladies…” He slid his hand over his sweaty torso. “They like the abs.”
Russ snorted. “What ladies? You haven’t been on a date in… I dunno how long.”
“It’s only been days.” Linc tugged off his socks and shorts, dropping them on top of the t-shirt on the floor. His phone chimed. He crossed the small space and unplugged his phone from the charger next to his bed.
“You didn’t even take your phone? What kinda weirdo doesn’t listen to music, or at least podcasts, while they run?”
Linc shrugged as he unlocked his phone. “It was dead, didn’t have much choice. Are we…”
Elizabeth Bennet: Thanks for ‘walking’ me home last night. I appreciate it. I’m sure I was overreacting, but I felt better having someone at the end of the phone.
She’d sent a gif of David Rose from Schitt’s Creek with her message and the caption on it read: I might have been overreacting. He chuckled, hit reply, and sat on the edge of his bed.
Linc: Fuckin’ love Schitt’s Creek. Your gif game is strong. And that’s totally okay, Eliza, you know one must be a gentleman in such trying times for women.
She replied almost at once.
Elizabeth Bennet: My name isn’t Eliza.
Linc: I know, but I figured if I’m in your phone as Mr. Darcy, it’s only fair you’re in mine as Elizabeth Bennet.
Elizabeth Bennet: Don’t get your hopes up, she’s much prettier than I am.
“Who is she?”
“Hm?”
“The girl making your face do that weird lopsided, dopey smile thing. Who. Is. She?”
Linc: I feel like women are often way too hard on themselves. My sisters are beautiful women (in a non-creepy way) but if I had a dollar for every time I heard them talk shit about themselves, I’d be rich.
“Earth to Lincoln. You know we were in the middle of a conversation just then, right? You literally stopped mid-sentence. Are you seeing someone?”
“What? No!” Linc put his phone back on the bedside table, stood, pulled his boxer-briefs off and swooped his pile of damp clothes up from the floor.
“Dude. You really need to warn a guy when you’re just gonna drop your drawers like that. And don’t think I won’t press you about this girl you’re talking to just ‘cause you’re standing there dick-out and swingin’ in the wind.”
“It was a wrong number. I hooked up with Melissa the other night and she left her bra here. The number I texted to give it back wasn’t hers, but some chick replied. I apologized and that was the end of it.” He scrubbed a hand over his jaw and through his damp hair.
“Except you’re still messaging her.” Russell jerked his chin at the phone.
“Kind of. How’s Jude?”
“Ha. Nice try. Jude’s fine. Don’t gimme that shit, man. Youliterallyjust messaged her. Keep talking.”
