by Gina Azzi
Easton laughs. “Shit, man. You like her.”
I don’t say anything, not wanting to agree with or deny his correct observation.
“So?” he presses.
“So nothing. Man, she’s Austin’s cousin. She’s Jeremiah’s daughter. She’s wifey material. A good girl, a smart girl, a way-out-of-my-league girl. I can’t just hook up with Indy. She’s the kind of girl you go all in with or not at all.”
“But you slept with her.”
“I shouldn’t have,” I groan, knowing that tangling Indy up in my sheets and devouring her was fucked up on my part. Still, not regretting it one bit.
“She tell you that?” My brother sounds skeptical.
“No.”
“So? Why are you jumping to conclusions?”
“It just, it doesn’t seem right. She’s not a puck bunny.”
“Definitely not a puck bunny. But maybe someone you could think about hanging out with, casually date. You don’t have to put a ring on it to make it meaningful.”
I take another swig of coffee, knowing that on some level my brother is offering a very rational point of view. But it doesn’t feel rational. It feels like if I dated Indy, it would entail more than I can give. More than I’m good for. And it’s stupid but I don’t want that for her. I want more for her than me. “Not gonna happen, man. I just need to have a conversation with her, make sure we’re good and on the same page, and forget last night ever happened.”
“Did you kiss her in public last night? At the team thing?” Easton wonders, probably imagining me sucking face with Indy as the team looks on. Like I have been with other girls ever since Courtney called off our wedding.
“No, it wasn’t like that. She came home with me.”
“Just out of the blue?”
I swear. “I’m not explaining this well. Last night, the team got together. Claire and Indy showed up and Claire”—I wince, not wanting to bring up alcohol but at the same time, not knowing how to avoid it—“well, she had a little too much to drink. Austin took her home and asked me to keep an eye on Indy.”
“I doubt he meant sleep with my cousin,” Easton supplies but his words are wrapped in humor, which encourages me to continue with the story.
“Smartass. Torsten got involved—”
“Shots,” Easton surmises.
“Anyway, on the way to her house there was an accident and traffic was backed up so I invited her here. I swear I wasn’t planning on doing anything but then…”
“You fucked her.”
“We slept together,” I amend. “She was gone before I even woke up.”
“Ouch. Color me impressed.” Easton snorts.
I laugh. “I can’t believe we are having this long of a conversation about a hook-up.”
“Nah, it’s because you like her, man.”
“It’s not going to happen,” I reiterate.
“Yeah, okay.” He chuckles. “Hey, how’s Claire?”
I frown. “She’s good. You gonna ask about Austin next?”
“Nah. I’ll still see his ugly mug. I’ve been cleared to have visitors so he’s coming next week.”
“Count me in too.”
“Yeah?”
“Of course, East. I want to support you through this. Whatever you need.”
Easton clears his throat. “Thanks, Noah.”
“It’s only eleven weeks. Stick it out. Austin and I will drop by next week. We’ll have lunch.”
“Yeah, okay,” my brother sighs, and I can hear the thread of uncertainty in the sound. He’s struggling. For all his talk about being straight, Easton battles a lot of demons. He puts up one hell of a fight, but sometimes, there are just too many for one man to slay.
“Hang in there,” I say.
“You too, Noah. And honestly man, if you’re feeling Indy, give it a shot.”
“We’ll see,” I say noncommittally. “Later, East.”
“Bye, bro.” He hangs up.
Draining my coffee mug, I stand from the barstool and stretch. I rinse my mug out in the sink and place it next to Indy’s. Checking my phone, I note it’s already ten and Austin replied to my text.
Austin: 555-9317 All okay with Indy?
Me: Yeah man, just wanted to check in on her.
Austin: ???
Me: There was crazy traffic getting to her place last night so she crashed here. She was gone when I woke up and just wanted to make sure she’s good.
Austin: Ah, got it. Thanks for looking out and keeping an eye on Indy. She doesn’t normally do the club scene and I didn’t want to leave her.
A ripple of guilt swirls through me. Shit. Austin thinks I’m looking out for Indy and I am…but the elephant in the room grows larger.
Me: No worries. All good. Lunch next week with East?
Austin: Name the day.
I shift my weight from foot to foot, wondering if I should call Indy or forget about it. In the end, my curiosity and Easton’s words win out and I hit send.
7
Indy
“You had sex with him?!” Claire’s eyes are so wide, they may fall right out of their sockets.
I nod, an uncertain smile locked on my face.
“Like ‘we-drank-tequila-and-now-we’re-blowing-off-some-steam’ sex or ‘I’m-ripping-your-clothes-from-your-body-and-having-my-way-with-you’ sex?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Somewhere in the middle, I’d guess.”
“You’d guess?”
I roll my eyes. “I’d say.”
Claire’s mouth drops open and her eyes grow even larger. How is that possible? “Holy hell! I’m so glad I got blitzed and left you behind now.”
I snort, shaking my head. “You kind of suck.”
“I’m kind of awesome,” she refutes, taking a swig of her Diet Coke. “Want one?”
“It’s ten a.m.”
“It’s hangover gold.”
My temples throb. “Okay, I’ll take one.”
She reaches into the mini fridge in her bedroom and tosses me a can.
“I can’t believe you set up your mini fridge from college in your childhood bedroom.” I pop the tab and take a sip. The bubbles are surprisingly soothing.
“I can’t believe I moved home after college at all,” Claire laments.
“It’s a tough market right now.”
“It’s always a tough market. It’s good, isn’t it?” She waggles her eyebrows as I drink more Diet Coke.
“On this one thing, you may be right.”
Claire grins. “Okay, tell me more.”
“There’s nothing to tell. We hooked up, I fell asleep—”
“In his bed.”
“Yes, in his bed. Then, I woke up and left.”
She gasps. “You ghosted him?”
I roll my eyes. “Claire, it’s not like that. It was one drunken night that meant—” The shrill ringing of my cell phone cuts through the air and I glance at it, frowning at the unknown number.
“Gonna get that?” my cousin prods, way too excited for someone who drank their body weight in vodka last night.
I swipe right. “Hello?”
“Indy? Hey, it’s Noah.”
Oh. My. God. Noah Scotch is calling me?
“Hey Noah. Uh, how are you?”
At my words, Claire’s mouth falls open and she stands from the bed, jumping up and down like a game show contestant who just won a trip to Aruba. I swat at her.
Noah chuckles through the line and it sounds nervous. Unsteady. It makes me smile. “Good. I’m good. I was actually calling to check on you.”
“Me? I’m good too.”
Why are you having the most awkward conversation ever? Claire holds up a ripped-out piece of notebook paper with the words scrawled across it.
I flip her off and she snorts, resuming her scribbling.
“I got worried when you were already gone this morning.”
I wince. “Oh. Well, I just didn’t want to be a bother. I really appreciate your letting me crash last
night.”
“You’re not a bother and it’s not a big deal. Anytime.”
“Well, thank you. I had fun last night.”
“Me too. You made it a hell of a lot more interesting than usual.”
I laugh and Noah joins in. “It surprised me too,” I admit.
“Yeah,” Noah agrees. “But…we’re cool right?”
“Yep. Very cool,” I say quickly and Claire winces.
“Good,” Noah says, his voice normal. “I’m glad you were there last night, Indy. I feel like a huge douche for not knowing you moved to Boston. Even Easton made fun of me.”
“You talked to Easton?”
At that, Claire stops writing and looks up, her face stricken and her eyes burning with curiosity. I hold up a finger.
“He called me this morning. He’s doing pretty well. Made it through the withdrawal part and is taking things day by day. Austin and I are going to have lunch with him one day next week.”
“Wow. That’s great. I mean, I’m glad to hear he’s doing well.”
Claire relaxes slightly but crawls back onto the bed and sits beside me, elbowing me until our heads are touching and she’s joined my conversation with Noah.
“Yeah. Me too.”
Noah clears his throat. “Anyway, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and that things between us aren’t going to be awkward.”
“Not awkward at all.” My voice comes out two octaves higher than normal and Claire looks at me like I’m an alien.
I stick my tongue out at her but she just shakes her head at me.
“Good. Well, thanks again for last night. I really had a good time.”
“Me too,” I say, blushing as Claire rolls her eyes. “Anyway, I got to go but thanks for checking in on me.”
“Of course. Take care.”
“You too. Bye.” I hang up and round on Claire.
“You are so fucking lame.” She hits me in the head with a pillow.
“What did you want me to say?”
“You friend-zoned him.”
“That’s where he belongs. In my friend zone.”
Claire shakes her head. “Indy, you’re into him,” she shrieks, dancing out of my reach as I lunge at her.
“I am not.”
“You totally are. I could tell by your conversation.”
I laugh. “No way. You kept distracting me.”
“Uh, I think you meant Noah kept distracting you.” She wiggles her eyebrows.
I groan, flinging myself back onto her bed.
“You’re into him,” she tells me cheerily, smiling like she won the freaking lottery.
“There is something wrong with you.”
“Because I’m happy that you finally have the hots for a guy who knows how to use them to your advantage. See what I did there? Your advantage, Indy. Jesus, if the rumors are true…just tell me, how many orgasms?”
“Claire!” I blush, feeling it to the tips of my ears.
“Oh my God! That many?” She drops next to me on her bed. “I’m so jealous.”
I drop a pillow over her face. Still, I hear her muffled laughter.
Removing the pillow, I narrow my eyes at her. “It was a one-night thing. It’s over. I’m not going to hook up with Noah Scotch again.”
My cousin snickers, shaking her head at me. “Yeah right. We’ll see about that.”
I totally want to hook up with Noah Scotch again.
I hate Claire for even putting the thought into my head.
Normal Indy, smart, determined, focused workaholic, would never consider such allusions. Now that the night has come and gone, I find myself second-guessing if he looked at me with desire or pity.
Was it heat in his eyes? Or my own hope placing it there?
Did he bring me back to his place because he wanted me there? Or because he was too exhausted to wait out the traffic?
But then why did he call…?
That’s the thought that buzzes in my mind, keeping me warm and fuzzy about Noah Scotch when I would normally dismiss the entire encounter as a fun, thrilling, drunken night I know better than to repeat.
After drinking a much-needed coffee to clear my head, I left Noah’s apartment and went straight to my aunt and uncle’s house. When Aunt Mary spotted me letting myself in at six this morning, she pulled the door wide open and handed me a fresh mug of hot coffee.
“I’m not even going to ask,” she said before I could explain rocking Claire’s skintight dress and holding the heels in my hand even though my feet were freezing standing on her porch so early in the morning. “Come on in and put on a sweatshirt before you catch a cold.”
“Thanks, Auntie.” I kissed her hello and scurried to the living room where she passed me a sweatshirt and covered me in a warm blanket.
Four sips of coffee in and I was snoozing on the couch, knowing Claire would wake me up when she finally dragged her hungover ass from bed.
While I should have just gone home to my place, I didn’t want to be alone this morning. That too is out of the ordinary for me. But after a night wrapped in Noah’s arms, his scent, in his freaking bed, I needed to seek out my cousin as if my self-preservation depended on it.
Maybe it’s because deep down I knew Claire would plant ideas in my head. Ideas I want to consider but don’t want to admit.
Gah. I’m a mess.
But spending the day with Claire, watching movies and nursing our hangovers, was fun. It was reminiscent of my college years but in the comfort of her parents’ home instead of a stinky dorm.
Uncle Joe made us panini sandwiches for lunch and Aunt Mary kept us hydrated with water and Gatorade. While I know it’s a little ridiculous that we holed up here instead of my place, I think Aunt Mary and Uncle Joe like being “in the know” about our lives. Especially since Vanny is now married and Austin’s on the road so much.
With Claire and now me being back in Boston, my aunt and uncle as well as my parents have regressed into helicopter parenting. I may complain about it all day, every day but not when I’m hungover and out of sorts and wanting to have someone make me lunch and bring me coffee.
Alas, by dusk, I force myself to leave Claire’s side and head home, this time clad in her sweatpants and a hoodie, a ratty pair of Claire’s Uggs on my feet. Once I enter my apartment, I flip on the lights and throw myself into the shower. Heat and steam make me feel like myself again. Once I no longer smell like sugary sweet vodka cocktails, I step out of the shower and shrug into a robe, wrapping my hair in a towel. I brew a cup of tea and sit down at my kitchen table, flipping open my laptop.
Then, I throw myself into my work. I’m organizing a student research trip to Bangladesh over winter break. The trip will foster my own research on microfinance loans and the role of women in a patriarchal society while also exposing my students to conducting field research.
A strange sense of excitement rolls through me as I fill a spreadsheet with logistical information. It feels like my entire outlook has shifted in the past twenty-four hours. Somewhere in between watching Claire get ready for the night and now, I’ve decided that I’m tired of just being Indiana “checks-all-the-boxes, does-all-the-right-things-in-the-right-order” Merrick.
I don’t want to hide behind my laptop and inside my cozy apartment when my cousins are out in the city, meeting people and mingling.
Flirting with Noah, noting the way his lips turned up as if they were grinning of their own accord when I spoke, and the way his eyes shone as they peered into mine was intoxicating. Joking around with Torsten and Panda smudged the lines around my insecurities until I felt accepted, a part of the group sitting around the bar last night, taking shots. Going home with Noah and waking up this morning, sore from delicious sex, and hungover from a night filled with fun, was eye-opening. Exhilarating. Exciting with a ton of possible outcomes I don’t know the answers to.
Chewing the corner of my lip, I take a sip of my tea and lean back in my chair. Why can’t I be an impactful professor and have a
full social calendar? Why can’t I conduct research, write articles, publish, and do drinks in the city followed by hot sex?
As the realization that I’m an adult, capable of making choices and decisions about my life, sinks in, I grin. For the first time ever, I have a salary. I have my dream job. I have a full, blank canvas ahead of me, waiting to be painted. Don’t I want to decorate it with as much color, as many experiences, as possible?
Hell yeah, I do.
I open a new tab on my browser. The cursor blinks in the search engine as I type the name Noah Scotch.
When the page populates, a thrill rushes down my spine. Sure, there are photos of Noah with Courtney and other gorgeous women. But in all of them, his smile is the same. He’s still the nice guy from my teenage years. He’s still someone I can trust and have some fun with.
So, what’s stopping us from having a little fun while we both focus on our dream careers?
By the time I crawl into bed, it’s after midnight but I’m not tired.
For the first time in years, my future looks like a question mark.
And I’ve never been so excited for the unknown that awaits.
8
Noah
The team isn’t gelling the way we should, especially not before our season opener. With East in rehab, a new guy, Sims, is filling in for him.
Austin, Easton, and I have played hockey together for so many years that our performance on the ice is natural. It’s so effortless that sometimes, I don’t have to think about it. I know that when I hit the puck to the right, my brother will be there. I know, without looking, that Austin has my back. Our rhythm has been honed from years of practice and hundreds of games working out kinks and improving.
With Sims, our grace is nonexistent, messing up our entire offensive line.
“Come on!” Austin hollers, aggravated when Sims misses the puck and gets slammed into the boards.
Sims shakes his head, skating away to pull himself together.
We’ve been at it all week, grueling practices that end with the entire team pissed off. Part of me feels for Sims. It isn’t easy filling Easton’s skates and being on the receiving end of Austin’s frustration. But another part of me can’t worry too much. It’s messed up but I don’t want Sims to settle in too easily. In ten weeks, my brother will be back and I want his position to still be his when he’s out of rehab.