“Because she’s fucking hot.”
“And?” I raise an eyebrow. “Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
“Why would I? I just got here, I’m on the hockey team, I’m hot, you want me to keep going?”
“So I’m assuming you’re saying I’m none of those things?” I laugh, shaking my head.
“I’m just saying, you already played the field and ran through all the hot girls here. You might as well settle down with one.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Then again, what do I know, right?”
“I know you’re going to learn this your way, but there’s more to a relationship than being with a hot girl.” I shoot him a look. “And there’s more to being an athlete than just fucking all the hot girls.”
“Says the guy who has spent the last three years fucking all the hot girls.” Mav scoffs. “And still doesn’t want a girlfriend.”
I don’t respond to that because what would I say? He’s not wrong. I haven’t really given the girlfriend thing much thought. I had a serious girlfriend in high school and we went our separate ways when she went to school in California and I chose UNC. As far as I know, she’s in a serious relationship now and I’m happy for her. That doesn’t mean I want to follow in her footsteps. Getting girls has always come easy for us. We’re not too humble to disagree with that sentiment. We’re also not so hung up on ourselves that we think anyone would be lucky to have us. Our parents raised us to believe in ourselves but to keep enough humility that we respect everyone. I’d like to say they did a fine job. It’s one of the reasons I wouldn’t officially date someone like Jessa. She’s fun to fool around with but we have nothing in common outside of bed.
“When I meet the right girl, I’ll settle down.” I finish my drink and turn to him. “Want more poison?”
“Why not?” He shrugs a shoulder and follows me inside the house.
It’s so crowded that if it weren’t for our height, stance, and the fact that everyone knows us and parts slightly when we walk by, it would be impossible to walk in. We reach the kitchen, where the drinks are set up, and Mav pours new punch into our cups. I watch while he does it and suddenly feel like passing on the punch.
“You know anyone could have spit in our drinks, right?”
“They wouldn’t.”
“It’s a punchbowl. They could throw anything in there.” I examine the Kool-Aid-looking punch, unsure of whether or not I want to take the gamble on it now that I’ve seen where it comes from.
“Dude, you already had a drink.”
“Yeah, that was before I saw this.” My face pulls. “Did you pour it from here the first time?”
“Yeah.” He stops pouring.
“And you didn’t think maybe someone spit in it?”
“Of course I didn’t think that. You’d have to be a freaking psycho to do that.” He hands me the cup. “You want this or not?”
“Not. I’ll just have a beer.” I walk over to the cooler and grab a beer while Mav sips on the punch.
Soon, a huge guy walks into the kitchen with a smile on his face. “They told me you were here!”
“Luke.” I give him a side hug when he gets close. “What’s going on?”
“Not much. Missed you at practice the other day.” He eyes me. “You gonna be okay?”
“I think so.” I move my shoulder out of habit. “I’ll be back Monday. Coach wants me to come in and learn the plays even if I don’t go out on the field.”
“Yeah, you should. Some of the guys are out back. You wanna head over?” Luke nods toward the backyard. I look at my brother, who shrugs.
“Let’s go.”
I spend the majority of the night talking to my teammates and hanging out with Mav. Mitch shows up when I’m almost leaving, and I end up staying longer than I wanted, and by the time I’m really ready to leave, Jessa shows up at my side and starts practically hanging from my arm.
Chapter Seven
Jo
“I don’t think I want to smoke this in public.” I lift the joint in my hand and look at Misty. “Can we go to your car?”
“So that it can reek of weed for the next century? No, thank you. If you wanted to hot box, you should’ve brought that nasty old Celica you’re driving these days.” Misty raises an eyebrow. “Besides, this is perfectly legal.”
“Not here.” I shoot her a look that makes her roll her eyes.
“It’s not like you’re going to get high out of your mind. Just high enough to relax. I mean, your doctor prescribed you Valium.”
“For flying.”
“It doesn’t matter. Valium is a hardcore drug. This is all natural.”
“I guess you’re right.” I press the joint to my mouth. “I just don’t want someone to take a picture of me and post it somewhere. Dad would kill me.”