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First Day
Monday, August 26th
“Double major?”I ask Koa … again.
“He doesn’t just have great hair, he has brains, too,” Dash jokes.
Koa shrugs. “History is what interests me the most, and literature the least.”
“Why pick something you don’t like?” JT asks.
“I like a challenge,” he answers and looks at me. “You a finance guy like these two?”
“Psych,” I answer, knowing I’m gonna get shit for it, I always do.
“Okay.” He nods. “And what made you choose that when you’re going pro?”
“Average is four and a half years for a hockey career. I plan to go into sports psychology after that. Can’t imagine not being part of a team in some way.”
“So, you’re going to go back to college when you retire?”
I nod.
“Very cool.”
“Fuck that, four and done.” JT shakes his head as he pulls up and parks behind the arena.Another perk of playing hockey—free parking. “Invest smart, and you’ll never have to work again.”
“I’d be bored out of my mind,” I say, opening the door and sliding out into the parking lot it seems like we just left, because we did an hour and thirty minutes ago after finishing an “optional” workout.
“Don’t take off, man.” Dash waves us over. “First day of school pic, or my mom will have my ass.”
“Your mom hot?” JT asks.
“Yeah. Why?” Dash asks, completely clueless.
“She can have my ass.” JT wags his brows.
“Bro, she would break you.”
* * *
When I walkinto the lecture hall, my eyes immediately fall on Riley. Not sure why I’m shocked she’s taking this class when she’s on a pre-med track, we all need to meet our electives.
Also shocking is that she’s wearing a dress and her hair and makeup are done. This confusion is warranted. Anytime I ran into her on campus last year, she was in hoodies, sweats, or leggings, and her hair was knotted on top of her head, looking every bit the athlete in Lincoln U apparel that she is. She never wore makeup either, and yeah, it looks good on her—she’s fucking beautiful—but she’s one of those girls who doesn’t need a bit of it. However, I learned from my sister that, “It’s not all about you boys. Sometimes we girls just like to feel pretty for ourselves.” To which, I responded, “Then can you take your feel pretty shit to your bedroom, so I don’t have to spend twenty minutes looking for my razor or toothbrush?”
I’m not sure how Mom heard it from across the house, but she did, and I got an ass-chewing. And yeah, a lesson was learned.
My hackles rise when I see Oz sitting beside her.
Fuck it. This wondering what the hell happened every time I see her isn’t good for my head. And yeah, that’s gonna fuck with my on-ice game, so I head over, hell-bent on sitting in the empty seat on the other side of her, when another girl—one of her teammates, I think—sits there.
You have got to be fucking kidding me. I shake it off as I set my sights on the seat beside that.
Instead of asking Oz to move his legs to scoot by, I head to the row behind them and plan to do a step-over.
Directly behind Riley, a blonde stops me. “There’s a free seat right here, Rivera.”
Freshman year I would have pounced on tall blonde and buxom. Hell, early sophomore year me would have, too. But until I get ahold of this Riley Park situation, I’m no good to any of the females looking for just a good time.
