Just One of the Boys

by Lexie Syrah

  I can already feel the cool wind outside as I step toward the door of the bus, and hear the happy chatter of my teammates.

  “A-Al!” Madison stutters, as I’m just about to step off. She stares at me, eyes wide, mouth open. “You, uh, lost something…” She points to her chest.

  I look down and…my bandeau is gone! I look back and see a trail of medical tape on the floor of the bus. It must have come loose when I was passed out. Horrified, I stare down at my white T-shirt.

  “Oh shit,” I mutter. “Thank God everyone is off the bus—”

  Footsteps clomp on the stairs. A voice.

  Hayden’s face peeks through the door. “Hey, Al!”

  “EEE!” Madison screams and lurches forward, pushing me onto the nearest seat. She smothers me with her small body.

  “Everything okay in…”

  I hear Hayden’s voice trail off as he gets to the top of the bus. But I can’t see him as my face is buried in Madison’s super shiny, blueberry-smelling hair.

  I blink blankly, but thankfully Madison can think for two of us. “Oh sorry, Tremblay, I’ve been distracting your roomie.”

  I peer out from the dark curtain of Madison’s hair and see Hayden standing there, wide-eyed. He gives an awkward grimace.

  “I’ll, uh, catch up in a moment,” I say, hoping he doesn’t notice how awkwardly I’m holding Madison’s waist, or how much she’s pressed against my chest.

  “You two?” he finally says. “I never would have—”

  Madison gives a high-pitched giggle and pinches my cheek. “This guy’s just so cute! I can’t help myself.”

  I give the bro-iest laugh I can muster. Shit, what do guys say about girls they like? God knows Freddy and Xander weren’t good examples. “Ahh, my Maddy…she’s one foxy lady.”

  Hayden looks like he’s about to die. Or vomit.

  I guess that’s not what guys say.

  “Ugh, you can have the room,” Hayden groans, and walks off the bus. “I’m gonna go out with Sacs tonight.”

  We let out a collective sigh as soon as he leaves, and Madison immediately goes to work scooping up the medical tape and rebinding me.

  “Hey, at least that got you off the hook about what to do with Mr. Grouchy!” Madison says cheerfully.

  I should be happy Hayden said he won’t be in our room tonight; after all, it will make sneaking around as a girl a lot easier. But instead, my stomach feels like I just dropped a thousand floors. What does it matter if Hayden goes out with Sacs tonight, finding pretty puckbunnies to hook up with? I can’t ever be more than a friend to him.

  I’m a boy. I’m Al.

  And even if he knew the truth…why would he ever like a liar like me?

  …

  “You look like it’s your first time on skates.” Madison raises her perfectly painted eyebrow at me.

  “I was never this unsteady on skates,” I say as I wobble around on the five-inch heels Madison made me wear. I make my way to the punch table, careful to take smaller steps in my short red dress. It’s Madison’s, and it’s beautiful…and probably a perfectly respectable dress on her 5’2” body. But on me, it ends up just covering the top of my thighs and is wire-tight across my bust to accentuate what little chest I do have. Whatever magic Madison’s done to me appears to be working, as one partygoer stops to ogle me.

  I stare him down, so when he eventually flicks his eyes up to mine, he knows he’s been caught. I muster the nastiest glare I can manage, but instead of looking embarrassed, he just grins at me. “Those are some legs on you.”

  Maybe all the makeup and false eyelashes and fake hair I have on are hiding just how menacing my glare can be. I’ll have to work on that. I eye him carefully. I guess some people would think he’s cute…okay, most people. He’s got short-cropped hair and pale blue eyes, and he’s tall…but not as tall as Hayden. Granted, not many people are.

  He steps closer to me, his eyes running a line down my body. I wish I had my Falcons jersey on, because my skin is turning every shade of pink. I mutter something about finding my friend, sloppily pour myself a glass of punch, and lose myself in the crowd to find Madison.

  The house is dimly lit and packed with people: mostly hockey players by the looks of it.

  Madison spots me and grabs my arm. “What are you doing? He was cute.”

  I look over at the dude, who’s already moved onto a new girl. “Not really my type.”

  “Why, because he doesn’t wear plaid and play for the Falcons?”

  I open my mouth to say something, but all I can manage is a wheezing sound. “Hayden is not my type! Yeah, I know he’s good looking with his wavy brown hair, his dark eyes, his smile that lights up….” I trail off and look down at my drink. “But he’s completely unreasonable, has a temper, and from all the stories I’ve heard from Daniel and Tyler, he’s a complete manwhore! Plus, I’ve only had one boyfriend…” I stop talking, not wanting to think of Freddy right now.

  “Yeah, yeah, Alice,” Madison says. “You can make that list go on as long as you like, but you’re still gonna blush whenever he’s within fifty feet of you. And besides, he doesn’t seem like he’s getting around much this season. Has he tried to bring any girls back to the hotel?”

  I tug the ends of my dress down. “No…if you don’t count me.” I smirk. I guess I’ve been doing a good job on following Coach’s orders to keep Hayden out of trouble. And it doesn’t seem like he’s seeing anyone in Chicago—I would know. I spend a lot of weeknights just chilling at his house, doing homework or watching bad TV. It’s easier to be there, away from everything, than to deal with Xander and Mom’s constant judgment that I’m just not trying hard enough.

  At Hayden’s, even though I’m pretending to be a boy, it feels like I don’t need to mold myself to meet someone else’s expectations. I can say whatever I want, eat whatever I want, and—as ironic as it sounds—just be myself.

  Plus, Xander’s clothes are really comfy.

  “Hey.” Some guy taps Madison on the shoulder. He’s got a bright smile and hair as red as my dress. “I’m looking for a partner in beer pong. Want in?”

  Madison turns, slowly taking his hand off her shoulder. “No.” He doesn’t move, so she raises her voice and waves. “Bye!” The guy saunters off but keeps looking back at her.

  Now it’s my turn to raise an eyebrow at her. “He was cute.”

  She shrugs.

  “I think you must like someone, too.” I smile. “I mean…not too. I don’t like anyone. You do!”

  She laughs and sips her drink, but the color on her cheeks tells me I’m onto something.

  I pinch her arm. “You like Xander!”

  Madison bursts out laughing, her drink dribbling down her chin. “Xander?!” She clutches her side, doubling over.

  “What’s so funny?” I cross my arms. “I know I’m biased, but he’s cute, and before he broke his leg, he was a pretty decent human being.”

  She looks up at me, chest still heaving with laughter. “Oh sweetie, I know. He’s adorable.” She tilts her head at me, like I’m a child. “You were…serious?”

  “Um…yeah!” I cross my arms. “I think you guys would be cute together.”

  “I can’t have this conversation when I’m sober.” She looks down at her empty cup. “I’m gonna get a refill.”

  Madison walks over to the punch table. I don’t know why she can’t admit she likes Xander. She spends a lot of time at my house, and when she’s not at the rink, she’s always at the theater with Xander. And maybe getting a girlfriend would knock Xander out of his sour mood.

  That redhead from earlier comes up to Madison, wrapping his arm around her waist. He’s certainly getting more aggressive. But before Madison has time to dump her drink over that guy, which she seems to be preparing to do, someone comes over, forcefully removing the redhead’s hand from her waist.

  He’s the tallest one in the room, with slicked black hair and a nose broken one too many times. Daniel Sacachelli. After
Red scurries away, Daniel slips his own arm around Madison’s waist. “If I just stand here all night, you won’t have to deal with any of these creeps.”

  Madison rolls her eyes but doesn’t push him away. “Yeah, because you’re the king of creeps.” Her head lolls onto his chest.

  Daniel? She chose Daniel over Xander? But before I can fathom her reasoning, I spot a flash of strawberry-blond hair in the other room. Tyler Evans. I freeze. Suddenly, everyone in this room is suspicious. If Tyler and Daniel are here, that must mean Hayden’s around; they were all going out tonight.

  A wave of disappointment settles in my belly when I don’t see him in the crowd. Don’t be stupid, Alice. Out of all the Falcons, Hayden has the best chance of discovering my lie.

  I have to get out of here.

  As soon as I dart for the door, Madison rushes over and grabs my arm. “Hey, where do you think you’re going?”

  “If Daniel and Tyler are here, it means Hayden is, too. I can’t let him—” Being Alice in front of Hayden as a figure skater was one thing. I had a mission. A plan. A routine. And there was no way out of it. But here, I have a clear escape route.

  “Y’know, you could—” Madison says, clasping her hands behind her back, “—just tell him.”

  My jaw nearly drops to the floor. Is she kidding? Tell Hayden? That what, I’ve been lying to him for the last five months, and hey, I’ve had the hots for him the whole time, too? I cross my arms and laugh. “And have Xander kill me? No thanks.”

  Madison shakes her head and looks back at Daniel at the punch table. Thankfully, he doesn’t look over at us.

  “I’m gonna get some rest before tomorrow’s game.” I force a smile. “Keep the boys from getting into too much trouble!”

  She smiles at me. “I’m on it, Bell.”

  I twinge of sadness hits me as I wait outside for a cab. I can see Madison and Daniel through the window. She flicks her long black hair and laughs at everything he says, while he hasn’t taken his eyes off her for a second.

  I shake away the heaviness in my chest. No point mulling over what I don’t have. It’s time to take Alice off and turn back into Al.

  …

  Hayden

  I take another sip of the wine bottle, realize it’s empty, and drop it to the carpet with the other one. Stupid mini fridges and their stupid tiny bottles. At least they have variety. I crack the top off the Gray Goose and flip the channel.

  Pathetic. Milwaukee is always known for having the best house parties. I know there’s a howler going on now, and I should be there with Sacs and Evans, picking up girls and kicking ass at beer pong. But I just didn’t feel like it. Better for me to stay in and rest up for the game tomorrow. I thought I’d just treat myself to one drink, or two…

  I burp and take another swig of vodka.

  I guess a part of me hoped Al didn’t want to go either, and we could just chill together. Catch a movie, maybe. We’ve seen a couple movies at home in Chicago and he always laughs at the inappropriate parts, which makes me laugh.

  But ever since we arrived in Milwaukee, he’s been with Miranda. Or Madeline. Or whatever that trainer intern’s name is. So I thought better of going out all night. Why should I be kicked out of my own room just so he can get laid? Who knew Al even had it in him!

  I down the rest of the vodka in a single gulp. I guess I should be a better friend to Al…but I just don’t have it in me right now. We’re supposed to be helping each other out, not banging randos. Not that Mackenzie is even a rando. But if Al and Marina burst through this door ready to screw each other, I’m gonna tell them to get a room.

  A different room.

  I look at the clock. It’s after midnight and still no sign of Al.

  I know I should go to bed, but I open the mini rum instead.

  Bzzup.

  I hear the key card click and the door opens. I lean forward, ready to tell Al off for ditching me for some girl.

  But it’s not Al.

  It’s some girl.

  Holy shit. I must be drunker than I thought; I’m hallucinating. Because there’s no way some smoking hot girl in a tight red dress just walked into my room.

  She looks as shocked as I feel, her big eyes darting out of her head. She starts to back away but stumbles on her high heels, barely catching herself on the door handle.

  “W-wait!” I say, and brush the Pringles crumbs off my bare chest.

  “Uh, sorry, uh—” She fumbles with the doorknob.

  Damn, she is beautiful. Long, flowing brown hair, mile-long legs…even the deer-in-the-headlights look is endearing. And her eyes—

  Damn. I know her.

  “Alice?” I breathe.

  My eyes trail over her familiar face, down her long neck and exposed collarbone, to the top of her red dress, so tightly hugging her chest.

  She stares at me, then looks down, obviously making the connection between my eyes and her chest. Shit! What’s wrong with me? I can’t be checking out Al’s sister!

  “What are you doing here?” I say.

  And then I notice her eyes doing the exact same thing mine were doing: they trail across my face, over my shoulders, down my bare chest, and to my boxers. I lean back. Hey, maybe it’s rude to look, but that doesn’t mean I can’t give her an eyeful.

  “I’m, uh, I’m here for the game,” she finally says, her face growing bright red. “Here to watch Xander play the game. The game that is hockey.”

  “Al!” I say, straightening. She bristles at my enthusiasm. “Where is that little twerp anyway?”

  “He’s, uh…” She chews on her lip, only a pointed canine visible. Just like Al.

  “Were you out with him and the trainer?” I start shoving shit off the bed. Empty alcohol bottles, chip containers, the works.

  “Yeah, Madison.” Her eyes dart around the room, almost as if she’s looking for something.

  “Where are they? Back in her room?”

  “Uh, yeah, yeah, that’s good!” She shakes her head. “I mean, I was supposed to be staying with Madison, but they were busy in her room. Xander said nobody would be in here.”

  “Sorry to disappoint.” I grin. I can’t let her wander around the hotel all night. “I’m just chilling, if you wanted to hang out.” I pat the empty space on the bed beside me. “Thirsty?” I reach down and grab another one of the wine bottles.

  Her startled face turns into another recognizable one—that twisted, constipated look Al gets when he’s thinking too hard. Jesus, they’re eerily similar.

  Slowly, she walks toward me and plops down. “Pass me a glass.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” The red wine rushes into the glass like the blood in my veins. I don’t know why, but my heart pounds and my hands are slick.

  Chill, Tremblay. I’ve had plenty of girls sit beside me in hotel rooms before. Beautiful girls, even. So what’s different about this one?

  I sneak a glance over at her. She sits awkwardly still, eyes unblinking at the unfunny late night comedian on the TV.

  “So, Alice,” I say, “what do you do?”

  She turns to me, her head as stiff as a vampire’s arising from a coffin. “What do I…do?”

  “You know…” I look down. “Like what’s your thing? Like mine and Al’s is hockey…and the trainer’s is…training…and Coach Z’s is yelling.”

  Damn, she’s got Al’s pained grimace face down to a T. “I…I’m a figure skater.” She looks down. Man, she must be nervous, because it sounded like every word was a struggle.

  I can’t help it… My eyes trail over her lithe body, down those endless legs. Her calves are toned and muscular. I remember how close I got to her on the ice and desperately wish to be that close again.

  Ugh, Al would kill me if he knew I was ogling his sister right now.

  But who cares? He left for a night out on the town with his girl. Why shouldn’t I have some fun too?

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Alice snaps.

  I should apologize. I should exc
use myself and let her have the room. I should at least put some pants on, for Christ’s sake. Instead, I tell the truth. “You’re really freaking pretty.”

  Boom. Those eyebrows shoot up, just like I knew they would. Her thin lips form a perfect O. “Who?”

  I take the wine glass from her shaking hand and put it on the ground. “Cheers.”

  In an instant, I lace my hand through her hair and kiss her. Kiss her with everything I’ve got. Maybe it’s the alcohol. Maybe it’s loneliness. Or maybe it’s those goddamn eyes, but damn, I want to kiss her.

  At first, she doesn’t do anything. She doesn’t kiss me back, but she doesn’t pull away, either. So I kiss her with more hunger, more urgency, more desire.

  She responds like a cannon, grabbing my head and knotting her hands through my hair. I run my hands across her jaw, her collarbone, down her arms and the length of her waist. I want to touch every inch of her—my mouth craves to be on her lips, her neck, over the crest of her chest.

  I don’t know where to put my hands—I want to touch, kiss, and look at her, all at once.

  Alice pushes on my chest, slamming me against the headboard, and attempts to straddle me, but her tight-fitting dress won’t let her spread her knees far enough apart.

  “Goddamn this thing,” she snarls.

  My fists clench and unclench, and I try to steady my breathing. “Alice, you are so sexy—”

  She jams a finger against my lips. “Don’t talk.” With a throaty growl, she heaves the dress up to her waist, revealing a pair of black boyshorts. The way they hug her body… They’re hotter than anything I’ve seen made of lace or silk.

  And then she kisses me again, pressing her body against mine with a passion I’ve never felt before. Her mouth is hungry, desperate even, as if she’s been waiting to do this for a thousand years.

  And damn, if I knew kissing her would be like this, I would have knocked down every door to find her. I tear myself away from her mouth and kiss my way up her jawline to her ear. “Where have you been the last few months, Al?”

  Her body stiffens like a corpse.

  …

  Alice

  Which Al is he talking to?

  Is he talking to Alice Bell, the washed-up female hockey player, the terrible sister and daughter, and the biggest idiot of the century for making out with her stinking hot teammate who doesn’t know she’s pretending to be a boy?