Page 9 of Don't Puck Him

But with all the people in the kitchen and dining areas who are glad to see me, I make a bee-line for my front door perch. Like the hockey player I am, I have the puck, I see the goal. My eyes are on the prize and nothing and no one will avert my stare.

I find a chair and sit in it backwards, leaning it against the foyer wall, rocking back and forth. Only a momentary upswing of my beer bottle comes between my view of Wren.

Then, I remember.

Cash. He hates this girl. I mean, I get it. Who wants to have a chick dumped in your home just like that? Blended families, my ass.

Cash and I have been tight forever. I have his back. He has mine. But seeing how Cash treats this Wren chick… I’m not sure I’m all-in on his game.

Yeah, it’s cool to harass new female blood at the start of the fall semester. That game is as good as the first hockey practice of the year. But Cash is going a bit too far with Wren.I mean, look at her. She’s found a high wingback chair in a living room alcove, between another room divider and a wall of built-in bookshelves. That chick couldn’t be anymore hidden from this party if she tried.

I continue to slowly rock on the straight-back chair.

So far, she doesn’t seem to see me. Good. Gives me more time to examine her.

My eyes do a long, slow survey… from her thick, flowing chestnut hair to her long, tapered neck, to her ample breasts, which heave up and sink down in harried breaths. The jeans do her legs no favor, swimming on her to the point that I can’t see them. But I can imagine. Idoimagine.Oh, those legs.

My vibe gets too intense. Wren looks up. She catches me looking.

I slowly take my eyes off her and rip at my beer label. Subliminal messaging. I’m showing I’m akin to her. She will like that. I let my eyes raise to see but not my head.Look. She’s grinning.I knew the message would work.

The line is out. The lure attached. My lithe little swimmer looks intrigued by my shiny lure. It’s time.

I get up from the chair and slowly make my way over to Wren. Standing right in front, I’m boxing her in. She has nowhere to escape.

I smile. “Hi, Wren. Didn’t know you were coming to this party.”

Wren looks up, smiles, but her fingers keep fidgeting with the torn beer bottle label. “Oh, yeah. The girls on my floor say it’s the best fall party to hit. So here I am.”

“You came alone?”

“No. With my floor mates. But they’ve scattered. They know people here. I don’t.”

I crouch down and put my right hand on her armrest, inches away from her thigh.

“You know me, Wren.”

She flashes an awkward smile, wariness flitting through her eyes. “True.”

“I don’t think you’re cut out for this level of socializing, Wren. I mean, after all, you’re new here. And untested.”

“Untested?”

“What, you think guys like me don’t see if the new girls can make the grade?”

I watch as Wren inches back in her chair. I’m enjoying her. Yes, I am.

“That’s not a very nice thing to say, Hunter.”

I cock my head and raise one eyebrow. “Meh, maybe, in the real world. But this is college life. This is how things are… here.”

I fan out my fingers, and the thumb and index lightly brush her thigh. I’m not going for a sexual move. Blatant moves like that are so boring. This is to make her squirm. That’s the turn-on right there.

After, I pull back like any fisherman with his lure. I get up and sit on the fireplace hearth to her right. Well, out of her personal space. I’ll let the pretty fish breathe.

A part of me is loving this. A part of me hates myself for tormenting such a naïve girl.

The only thing I know for sure is Cash is dead wrong. There’s no threat here. This girl is all heart. Weak, scared, needing something, someone. But no threat.

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