Hopefully it’ll work.
CHAPTER 02: AXEL
“I’m signing us up for a contest!” my little sister Ivy calls out from the main living space in our apartment.
I roll my eyes even though I know she can’t see me. I’m getting dressed for my shift, which she knows. She’s probably taking advantage of the fact that I can’t immediately shut her down from another room, and that means this contest likely isn’t something I’d be excited about.
I look in the full length mirror on the back of my closet door at the entirely black outfit that isn’t all that different from what I’d wear if I wasn’t working, and confirm the longer hair on the top of my head is styled and not sticking up in a million directions. Good enough.
I know with all my tattoos that most people probably don’t even notice my hair, but I like to tell myself I care about looking good because I want higher tips and not that I’m just really conceited.
Ivy would disagree.
“Alright, what’s this contest?” I ask when I finally leave my room.
“It’s for the Werewolves, and before you protest, I know you hate sports, but this sounds so fun, and I’ve already paid the fee so you’re doing it with me, no arguments,” she says quickly.
I let out a short laugh. Ivy knows I can never say no to her, but it’s still adorable when she bosses me around. “So how much money did we waste on this Werewolves contest?”
She looks over her shoulder from her spot at our kitchen island, so I can see her roll her eyes at me before answering. “It’s not a waste, it’s for charity. And it was only five dollars each. I did the minimum.”
Still ten dollars we didn’t need to spend, but Ivy very rarely spends money on herself so I don’t say anything else. I’m not the best at keeping my thoughts off my face though.
“Are you sure I don’t need to get a job? There are part-time ones on campus—”
“No,” I cut in firmly. “We’re fine. And I can always pick up more shifts if needed. It’s not like I’m doing anything else.”
She knows our money situation, I don’t need to remind her that my bartending job barely covers the rent for our shitty two-bedroom apartment. She knows I eat at work as often as I can the same way she eats as many meals on campus as possible. She should be able to spend ten measly dollars on something if it makes her happy. Even if it is a stupid contest for a dumb sport.
Ivy is in her second year at one of the top colleges in Chicago. She’s crazy smart and earned a huge academic scholarship covering all her classes and textbooks, so the only thing she needed to pay on her own was room and board. They did offer her a discounted meal plan, thank fuck, but even paying that and for student housing would have meant she needed a job.
Our parents are no help. After paying for a nasty divorce about ten years ago, they still fight about every fucking dime they have to spend on either of us, neither one wanting to lose out to the other. It’s not that they’re bad people or don’t want to help us, it’s about their own issues, and I know they can’t help much anyway.
My parents never went to college. They met, got married, and had us way too young, and after the divorce was the first time my mom ever had to work. Her job at the grocery store wouldn’t cover her rent without the money she still gets from my dad, and his job selling used cars isn’t exactly bringing in extra cash either.
Unlike Ivy, I always struggled in school, preferring the nonacademic classes like art and shop class to anything with letters or numbers involved. I’m not stupid, I mean, I’m not as smart as Ivy obviously, but I also just didn’t care enough to do more than I needed to pass. I never planned to go to college so it didn’t matter. After barely graduating, I was a busboy for a while at one of the bars in our Indiana suburb, eventually becoming a waiter and bartender there.
I was still living at home, trying to save up for my own place, when Ivy started talking about moving to Chicago and finding a job while also going to school. Despite how bratty she can be, Ivy is my favorite person in the world, and she deserves so much more than struggling through life to make ends meet. I’m her big brother, it’s my job to look out for her, so I might as well be the one to struggle for the both of us.
I offered to move with her so she could focus on academics. She tried to refuse at first, saying she could figure things out for herself. But I went on and on about how I’d always wanted to move to the city anyway, about how sad I’d be living in a whole different state from her, so really, she’d be helping me out. Finally she agreed, and I know she feels bad about me paying for her, but I truly wouldn’t have it any other way.
“You still haven’t told me what this contest is,” I remind her with a raised brow.
She turns back to her computer, waving me over. “You know those stranger photography sessions people do for, like, blind dates? Well, the team is going to do stranger sessions with a player for charity! We have to submit a short video because they’re going to match up single players with the winning fans that are single, and then the guys with families with fans who wouldn’t be interested in a date—but can you imagine doing a blind date with a player?”
I snort a laugh. “Well, I’ve never heard of an out gay hockey player, so I really doubt any of them would want to go on a date with me.”
“Well, I want to go, and I want you to go with me, so maybe they’ll pair you up with one of the older married players,” Ivy says with a shrug.
“Fine, but I have to go to work so let's make this quick.”
She beams at me before pulling up the camera on her laptop for the video part of the submission. Then her look shifts to a warning glare. “We can only record this once, so behave.”
I cross my heart and give her my most innocent smile, but her eyeroll confirms she doesn’t buy it. She checks we’re both in the frame and hits record anyway.
“Hi, I’m Ivy! I’m twenty-one years old, and I’m a huge Werewolves fan. I’m a student at the University of Chicago, and I watch all the games. My favorite player is probably Oliver Bell, but I think this photoshoot idea sounds like it would be fun with any player. Plus our grandma had a stroke, so even if we don’t get picked, I think you’re raising money for a great cause.”
She elbows me, still smiling at the camera, so I guess it’s my turn. “Uh, I’m Axel. I’m twenty-four. I’m a bartender…” I shoot an apologetic grin at Ivy before I quickly continue. “I’m also super gay, and I don’t even like hockey. She signed me up for this, but Ivy’s great, so you should totally pick her! Byeeee.” I run away toward the door, laughing.
