Leroy slides between us, engulfing us both in his arms while his tail is wrapped around a pool cue. “You boys better behave tonight! Coach is coming by later.”
“What?” I seem to be the only one upset by this.
Terrence is practically bouncing in his seat. “Sick.”
“Isn’t that kind of lame?”
They stare at me like I’m speaking in another language.
“He is faculty, remember?”
Leroy shrugs. “Everyone here is legal.” He nudges Terrence. “Can’t pass off an opportunity to hustle the guy.”
“You’re such a shark man,” Terrence shakes his head. “Remind me to never take you to Vegas.”
“What if I shared my winnings with you?”
“You’d stiff me on my cut.” Terrence moves to take a sip of his beer, but Leroy grabs his face between his thumb and forefinger.
“I would never cheat on you.” He squishes Terrence cheeks while making exaggerated kissing sounds.
I’ve never been in the locker room with the Dingbats team but, I get plenty of glimpses into the homoeroticism of the brotherhood.
Terrence tears his face from Leroy’s grip. “Buy me a drink first, heartbreaker.”
“Round of pool? Loser buys a round?”
Terrence snaps his fingers and points to an empty pool table. “You’re on.”
I stay at the bar, watching the team from a distance. Outside of Terrence and Leroy, I’ve never gotten close to the rest of the team. They’ve all got their buddies, and I think some of the guys are at a loss when it comes to making conversation with me. I don’t play hockey or like women, and tonight I can’t even binge drink.
Maybe the team has some emotional depths I haven’t explored yet. I shouldn’t assume none of these guys enjoy Russian literature or late Romantic Classical music. I came all the way out here to have a good time and let myself forget about my competition in a few days. A few rounds of pool and the night will fly by.
I get up to join them, standing right on the edge of a group of four guys in deep conversation. “I’d care more about women’s hockey if they put in someeffortyou know? They dress and talk like dudes.”
One of the guys nods. “Wicked butterfaces.”
Nope. Fuck this. Fuck these guys. I’m going home to watch YouTube video essays on my phone till I pass out. I try to wave goodbye to Terrence and Leroy, but they’re too engrossed in their game to notice. I bail, ready to text Terrence that I’ll see him back at the dorm.
I’ve made it maybe two steps outside when a familiar voice asks, “You’re leaving?” I look up from my phone and see who else but Christos, dressed in a windbreaker like he’s just gotten back from a run.
“Can’t keep up with the guys.” I shrug. “Plus, I need my beauty sleep.” I notice the name written in thick yellow letters on the breast of the windbreaker. “Werecats… That was your old team, right?”
His mouth opens. Then shuts. Finally a bemused smile settles on his face. “You researched me?”
“Can’t say I had as good a reason as you.”
“I dunno. I think curiosity is a good enough reason. What else did you learn about me?”
I shake my head like I’m trying hard to remember, like those little factoids didn’t imprint on my brain the moment I read them. “You’re 6’5 and 250 pounds.”
He mutters under his breath. “I haven’t been two-fifty for a while...”
“You’re a Capricorn–”
“I am?”
“You never had your star sign explained? Not by a boyfriend? Or… girlfriend?”
