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“Yeah.” Labrowski threw a pen at him. “Get your own fuck buddy that’s not just a buddy anymore and then you can have your own closure.”
“Argh. Not cool.”
I flipped him off as I stood, pushing back my chair. “Not my problem.”
Angela was coming back, and seeing me standing, she hesitated.
Barclay saw, saying under his breath, “Oh, man. She’s got a crush. Run, dude.”
Angela went to high school with Labrowski, so she got adopted into the hockey house, but it was a situation where no one touched her. Labrowski had put it out there. Her brother was friends with him, and he’d died. Labrowski didn’t talk much about him, but it was known that her brother died from a drug overdose. So, Angela was around the house. She had crushes on a few of us, but none of us went there with her.
She’d been fine in the beginning of the year, but since she’d become friends with Bianca, she’d changed. She was a lot more forward, more aggressive.
Bianca hadn’t showed yet, and I was counting that as a blessing.
I circled around the table, cutting behind another section of tables.
Angela was watching me the whole time. When she moved to try and intercept me, Atwater and Barclay both stood up, blocking her vision. Angela was a sweet girl, but she liked attention. If she was getting attention from someone, she’d stay there. I headed into the main bar section, glancing back once. The guys had blocked her off, so I was good for a while.
I headed for the bathrooms.
“Styles, my man.” It was Ruiz. He held up a hand, half turned to me. He was moving in, his eyes glazed. He looked a little rough. “How’s it going?”
“Hey.” I stopped.
He stepped in, our hands meeting as he pounded me on the shoulder. A little more forceful than was needed, athlete to athlete. Grant West was usually known for its basketball team. They had a player in the past that was phenomenal, a guy named Hunt. But this year hockey was the big sport. Football never had been, and I knew Ruiz had hopes of getting drafted. We were a D1 school, but I hadn’t heard of any recruiters coming to visit him. That stuff gets shared, even if you’re on a different sport. There was no rivalry between teams at Grant West so having crossover friends was common.
We all used the same weight room.
“How’s it going?”
“It’s good. You?”
“Good, man. Good.” He shifted, turning so he was facing where I’d just left. “That chick with your team. Gotta ask, are you hitting that?”
Fuck’s sakes. “Nah, man.”
“But someone is?”
I frowned. “Angela?”
“Yeah! Angela. That’s her name. She was over, being all sweet to Darren. He didn’t seem into her, but Wade was a different matter. I usually see her around the hockey team and another girl, Bianca or something. What’s her story?”
“Bianca?”
“Nah, man. Angela.”
“Labrowski knows her.”
“He banging her?”
I stepped back, not liking how he was talking about Angela, but also not liking how he wasn’t over here about her. “Why don’t you cut the shit and ask about who you really want to know about?”
He stopped. His eyes were having a hard time focusing so he squinted.
He let out an ugly laugh, and I could almost name the beer he was drinking. His grin was lopsided, his body a little unsteady. “You’re a straight shooter. I like that about you, and you’re right.” He leaned in again. “I’m regretting not hanging out at Darren’s place more this semester. I heard you’re hitting that. Is she good?”
I shifted, my back to the bar.
Ruiz craned his head to the side so he could see Mara, but me, I was looking around for cameras. I was probably screwed either way, but if he kept going, I was going to knock his teeth back in his throat.
“You wanna run that by me again?”
“Yeah, man.” He shifted closer. “She’s got a tight body. Petite. Small. How I like ’em, and normally they don’t have good tits, but she does. You can tell. What’s it like? Doggie style, am I right? The shit I’d like to do to her. Stuffing my cock down her—”
BAM!
He was on the floor in the next second and I was standing over him. I’d hit him so fast, and I didn’t give a damn. I wanted to do it again.
He touched his chin. Then his head twisted, and a snarl formed before he jumped up and swung.
I ducked, grabbed his arm, pinned him against the wall, and punched from the left. I could shoot from both hands; I could punch the same. “Right-handed, huh?” I hissed. “Sucks to be you.”
There was a stampede behind us. Then hands were pulling me back.
I strained to land another punch.
He was yelling at me, but I wasn’t paying attention.
“You fucker! I’ll have your scholarship taken. I’ll destroy you–”
