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She’d wandered away while Mary and Francesca, both dressed as angels but wearing dresses thatdefinitelyqualified as mortal sins, asked if they could come back to my room tonight. Together.
One year ago, I might have jumped at the proposition. But after the past year, when so many of the guys I play with on the Hot Shots hockey team, which I’m a starting player on, have turned from promiscuous players to head-over-heels in love with their soulmates, a threesome with two beautiful women who I know want nothing from me but a good time, just doesn’t sound as appealing as it used to.
Maybe that’s crazy, but it’s how I’ve been feeling lately.
The girl who’s next to me at the bar right now, though, who just cracked open the White Claw I bought for her alongside a whiskey and coke for myself, is more than appealing. She’s downright captivating.
“Thanks again for helping,” she says after taking a sip, turning her heart-stopping blue eyes to me. “But this damsel is no longer in distress. I don’t want to keep you from your two angels. They seemed to have big plans in mind for tonight.”
“I’m not interested in them,” I say.
She lets out a tiny huff of a laugh, a sound that carries a skeptical tone. “I doubt I’m any more interesting than they are.”
“You just proved that you are.”
She arches an eyebrow quizzically. “Huh?”
“In my experience, the people who don’t think they’re interesting are the most interesting of all.”
She tilts her head to the side, her eyes narrowing behind the mask that obscures most of her face, her identity. “Is that so?”
“It is. And the people who think they are interesting are theleastinteresting of all. They only want to talk about themselves, and there’s nothing more boring than that.”
“What if I’m just honest?” she asks, her gaze boring into my searchingly.
“No one’s honest about themselves,” I answer.
“Including you?” she asks.
I let out a rough chuckle. “Especially me.”
She angles her body towards me in her chair at the bar. My mouth waters as I struggle not to let my gaze unlatch from hers for just a moment to rake up and down every inch of her. She reaches for her White Claw and holds it out in the space between us, inviting a toast. “Here’s to you being interesting, too.”
I knock my glass of whiskey and coke against her bottle before taking a small sip, savoring the hard bite of the liquor.
“So, I overheard you’re thinking of transferring here next year?” I ask.
A teasing smile curls around her full, red lips, and it’s enough to make my cock twitch already. “You were eavesdropping, were you?”
After I’d gotten away from Mary and Francesca, I set out looking for her again, as she’d walked away in the meantime.
Eventually, I stumbled upon her chatting with that guy in the pirate costume. I was considering being a jerk and swooping in and stealing her from him, but when I saw how he was acting with her, there was no question that I had to step in and send him packing.
My own lips lift in a grin. “What if I was?”
Heat colors her neck a sinful shade of crimson, and my eyes follow as it spreads up her cheeks, rising beneath her dark mask. She turns her head away from the intensity of my gaze and takes another sip of her drink.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Zoey,” she answers. “Yours?”
I hesitate for a moment.
My teammates and I decided to come out to the bar instead of throwing a house party for Halloween this year. Abby, the fiancée of one of my teammates, Grant, painted my face tonight, because I didn’t want to be recognized. I even dyed my hair from its normal sandy-blonde color to a jet black. I want at least just a little taste of what it’s like to blend in.
Being a campus celebrity has always been one of the perks of being a top Hots Shots player. But for some reason, lately, it’s lost a lot of its luster.
Maybe part of that is because I’m starting to feel the pressure of next year ahead of time. Most of the crop of top players that made the Hot Shots one of the best teams in college hockey are seniors this year, and next year I’ll be the undisputed veteran on the team that everyone else looks to for leadership. And for perfect performance on the ice.
