by Rhonda James
I've barely stepped through the dorm's entrance when Dan Harwood stops me on his way out. Dan sits next to me in Psych, but he doesn't live here so I assume he's visiting a friend. He's a junior who plays defensive tackle on the football team.
"Hey, Cassie. Do you live in South Quad?" He takes a step back to allow me through the door.
"Indeed I do. What are you doing over here?" I shuffle my backpack from one shoulder to the other and move aside as people pass by.
"One of our pledges lives here. I was just here to give him a hard time. You know how it is." His eye closes in a quick wink, as if I were somehow privy to one of his fraternity secrets. I haven't a clue what he's talking about, but rather than admit to it I just smile and offer a polite laugh. "You should come to one of our parties sometime. I'll let you know when the next one is coming up."
"Hey, congratulations on the win last Saturday. I heard you made a few great plays."
"Yeah," he shrugs, and I see the faintest hint of a blush spreading over his cheeks. "Don't you come to the games? I'd love to have you watch me play."
I shake my head while scrunching up my nose in distaste. "I'm not much of a football fan. I'm more of a hockey lover."
"I guess I can understand that, being Rivers' sister and all. I've been to a few of his games. He's an awesome player," he exclaims, and I beam with pride. I love watching my brother play hockey.
Growing up, it's how I spent most of my weekends during the winter. I remember how I used to complain that I was wasting my Saturday sitting in a freezing cold hockey arena, and then I discovered how cute hockey players were. Scotty used to hate it, because I would hang around after a game, hoping for a chance to talk to one of his teammates. He used to hassle me about it and was always quick to point out that his friends were way too old to be interested in a kid like me. I didn't allow his words to deter me. I was young and it was fun to dream. Then I started dating Justin, and rather than hanging around hoping for a chance to talk to a player, I spent every Saturday afternoon after practice kissing my favorite player.
But that's all in the past.
"Yep. He is pretty amazing," I glance longingly at the stairs and try to recall if I bothered making my bed before I left this morning. "Listen, I better be going. I have a killer calculus test coming up I have to study for. I'll see you in class tomorrow," I throw my hand up in a wave and leave before he has a chance to say anything else.
I finally enter my room and see that it's five o'clock. Roni is still here, but by the way she is gathering her belongings I can tell she is on her way out.
"Hey," I say as I drop my backpack on the bed. "Are you leaving?"
"Uh huh," she replies with her head down, digging under her bed to retrieve a wayward bra. She pulls it out and shoves it into her bag. "I might end up staying at Josh's tonight. You don't mind, do you?"
"What? No. Not at all," I furrow my brow in confusion. "Why do you think I would mind?"
"I don't know," she shrugs, "I mean, I know you don't like him that much."
I open my mouth to say something but close it before I get the words out. I don't want to hurt her feelings, but the truth is I'm not particularly fond of her choice in men. I don't say that because I saw him naked, though it did leave a lasting impression, and not a very good one, I might add. The real reason is, he isn't very nice. In fact, from what I've seen, he's even rude to her, though she seems completely oblivious to it.
"That's not true at all." I smile and hope she doesn't see right through me. "It probably only seems that way because we've never been properly introduced. I'm sure he'll grow on me with time."
"That's good, because he's definitely grown on me. I like being with him, for the most part, and the sex is really good." She waggles her brow as she says this, and I can't help but remember walking in on them. I hate to admit it, but it's happened more than once. Every time it happens, Josh never fails to remind me I should have knocked.
"Well, have fun and maybe I'll see you tonight." I turn and begin straightening up my half of the room before Brantley gets here.
"Do you have plans?" she asks hopefully.
I sit down, allowing my legs to dangle over the side of the bed. Brantley will be the first guest I've invited to our room, and I wonder what it will be like having him all to myself in this crowded space. It dawns on me that I really don't know much about him, other than the fact he plays hockey and has been Scotty's best friend since freshman year. I wonder if he liked living in the dorms, or what he thinks about spending his evening hanging out with me when he could be with that red-headed bitch who had her hands all over him at the bar.
"I have someone coming over to study. We'll probably just hang out afterwards."
"So, who is this mystery tutor? Is it the hottie you've been texting for the past week? Maybe you'll get some tonight." Her eyebrows dance wildly up and down as she claps her hands together.
"As a matter of fact, it is, but nothing is happening. Sex will not be taking place here tonight."
"Suit yourself. But if things change I'll expect a full report in the morning." She wiggles her fingers on her way out the door, and I stare after her, wishing for everything I could be that carefree.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BRANTLEY
The shrill sound of Coach Bishop's whistle echoes throughout the arena, as does the collective swearing from everyone on the ice. We've been practicing for two hours, and coach has been running the same play for the last forty-five minutes. Four weeks into our practice season and we still aren't gelling. I'm usually on a line with Kevrick and Masterson, but two days ago Coach decided to move Masterson to a new line and have him work with one of the freshmen. I'm not sure what's going on with Davis, but I'm certain he's going to have a raw ass by the time Coach gets finished chewing it off.
"Davis! What the hell is wrong with you? If you've got a problem you need to talk about, come see me; otherwise, get your head out of your ass and show me some hustle." The whistle sounds once more, and we take our positions. "Again!"
As the puck drops Kevrick owns it, moving across the ice with lightning speed. I skate to his right, reaching the blue line as he passes off to Davis, who finally seems to be paying attention. Davis moves fluidly toward the net, circling around Masterson and behind the net to hand the puck off to me at the last minute, where I launch it high and to the right of Rivers. He never had a chance at stopping it. We make eye contact and I toss him a playful wink, adding insult to injury. I've spent enough years playing with him to know that nothing pisses him off more than me sneaking one past him during practice.
"Fuck you, Cage," he growls from behind his mask, but I see the glimmer of a smile forming at the corners of his mouth. He may get ornery, but he still loves to see me shine. Our jealousy only stems from sheer competitiveness, but we always give each other our full support. When he was drafted before me, I was the first to shake his hand and congratulate him. If circumstances had been different, and I hadn't been drafted the following week, I still would have been happy for him.
Our celebration is short lived as Coach's whistle gives off two quick chirps, indicating it's time for drills. Sticks, gloves, and helmets are tossed on the bench before we line up at one end of the rink. Twenty sprints later, we head to the locker room, a sweaty, exhausted mess.
I toss my helmet and gloves in the top cubby of my locker. My practice jersey comes off next, before I drop to the bench and bend to take off my skates. Davis stomps in and his helmet whizzes past my head. It bounces off the lockers and skips over the floor before finally coming to rest just outside the entrance to the showers.
"I take it you got reamed out again. What's going on?" I don't bother looking up, by now he's seated beside me and grumbling under his breath.
"Nothing. Just got some shit on my mind. You got plans later? You want to head over to Skeeps with me?" he asks, referring to a local bar that's actually called Scorekeepers. A group of us usually head over there on nights we don't have p
ractice.
"Sorry, buddy, I'm heading over to South Quad after I shower." I peel off my compression shorts and drop them in my hockey bag. Leaning forward, I'm hit with the stench that can only come from the inside of a hockey player's duffle. It's a strange combination of sweat, shit, and vomit, all neatly rolled into one package and trapped inside the walls of a four-foot poly bag.
"The Quad, what's over there? You got a hot little underclassmen you're keeping tucked away?" he laughs, chucking a skate over his shoulder.
"Actually, I'm meeting up with Cassie for a tutoring session," I reply then make my way to the showers. He's hot on my heels as I reach forward and turn on the water.
"Holy shit!' He leans forward and lowers his voice. "Does Rivers know about this? He's gonna flip his shit when he hears you're spending quality time in his kid sister's room."
"Why the hell does everyone think I'm out to screw her just because I'm hanging out with her? It's calculus, nothing more. Besides, we're friends, and I wouldn't want to do anything to screw that up," I insist.
"Since when are you and Cassie friends? Matter of fact, since when are you friends with any girl? Most of them only want one thing from you, my friend." He makes a clucking noise with his mouth before turning away and I flip the double bird at his back.
"Since I ran into her at a party one night and walked her home. She's a really nice girl who's looking for a friend."
"And you're that friend? Interesting," his voice trails off as he turns off the water and heads back to the locker room.
I grab a towel and knot it around my waist before trailing after him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"Oh, come on, Cage. Spending time with a woman isn't usually your thing, unless it's between the sheets. And that's all fine and good," he looks around to be sure no one else is within earshot before continuing, "but we're talking about Scott's sister. What about the code?"
"Trust me, the code will remain safely adhered to. She's just a friend, and if he has a problem with that then maybe he should consider making more time for her instead of cramming his head so far up Ashley's ass." I yank on a pair of jeans and grab my bag. "Catch you later."
***
When I open the door to South Quad, I'm instantly taken back to my first year on campus. The building has been renovated since I lived here, but the memory of dormitory living will never be erased from my memory. Confined spaces. An abundance of study partners to choose from. Late night sneak attacks on the girls who lived across the hall. Meals with hundreds as opposed to the family of four you'd grown accustomed to. I love the privacy of having my own place, but I wouldn't trade that time for anything. I'd learned a lot and had more than my fair share of good times while calling this place home.
Cutting through corridors, I make my way up to room 322, only to stand in front of her door for a full three minutes before I finally raise my hand and knock. I hear music coming from her room but she turns it down just before pulling the door open and flashing me a warm smile. All my doubts about coming up here vanish when I take one look at her standing there in white cuffed shorts topped with a lightweight black and white stripped sweater that hangs slightly off her narrow shoulders. Her feet are bare, and the blue polish on her toes matches the blue in her eyes. Her head tilts to the side, and the sun shining through her window dances off the stone piercing on the right side of her delicate nose.
"Welcome to my humble abode." She bends at the waist and makes a show of inviting me in with a wave of her arm. "Thanks for slumming on a Monday night." Her eyes meet mine and she shoots me a quick wink before closing the door.
"This is hardly slumming and a hell of a lot nicer than where I live," I laugh, looking around the small but tidy space. "It wasn't nearly this nice when I lived here."
"You lived in South Quad?" She sits down on her bed, scooting back until she's leaning against the wall, and pats the space next to her. "Sorry, I don't have more places to sit. But my roommate will be gone for the rest of the night."
I glance nervously between her and the door while squeezing the back of my neck with one hand. "Um, I thought I was coming over to study calculus." Her eyes go wide just before she cracks up, and now I'm really confused. "What's so funny?"
"Sorry." She's still laughing as she wipes at her tears. "That wasn't an invitation for something to take place. I only meant you could sit on her bed if you'd be more comfortable over there."
My body visibly relaxes, and I drop my backpack at the end of her bed, feeling the need to prove I'm capable of being close to her. "No, here will be fine. You just caught me off guard." Taking a seat next to her, I stretch out my legs and wait for her to show me her notes. She doesn't say anything for a few minutes, so I turn my head to find her staring. "What?"
"I wasn't coming on to you, if that's what you're thinking. Our relationship is purely platonic, so there's no need for you to be nervous around me. I promise I won't jump on you and kiss you again," she laughs, tucking her hair behind her ear, and I notice a strip of five pink studs lining the shell of her ear.
That's too bad, cause I'd really like to kiss you again.
Where the hell did that thought come from?
Somewhat shaken, I try and play it off like it's no big deal. "No, it's cool. I'm good with where things stand. I mean, I didn't really think you were coming on to me, but you have to admit it sounded a little like a proposition."
"Yeah, I'm sure you've heard enough of those to know the difference," she laughs then twists her body to face me, crisscrossing her legs beneath her like a pretzel.
"Maybe a few," I chuckle at my own expense. "So, where's this calculus you need help with?"
She orders a pizza that we share while spending the next three hours going over equations and a few tips and tricks I've learned along the way. By the time we're finished, it's clear that while she may not have mastered the concept, I don't think she'll have a problem passing the test. Not everyone has the headspace to grasp mathematical equations, but I do believe they are capable of memorizing a few formulas to help them get through a class.
"I think you'll be fine," I assure her as she places her notes back in the front section of her backpack. "But if you still feel like you need another dry run, you can stop by the house tomorrow night. I have an early practice and my last class lets out at six."
"That would be great. I think I have a handle on parts of it, but there a a few problems I want to run through while you watch. Maybe then you can see where I am stumbling." Leaning forward, I snag the last slice of pizza and pick off a piece of cold pepperoni and offer it to her. She takes it without missing a beat. "I really appreciate you doing this for me. I'm a creative person, my brain doesn't do logic as easily as yours."
"Yeah, well, I can't play a guitar and you can. So now we're even." I lean back, rubbing a hand over my face to mask a yawn. It's been a long day.
"Hey, maybe I can teach you," she moves forward, placing the palms of her hands flat on the bed as her torso stretches toward me. Face full of enthusiasm, she beats out a rhythm on the mattress, the wheels in her head clearly putting together a plan. "You help me pass this test, and then I'll show you a few chords; and after a few lessons, I'll have you playing a song."
I draw my eyebrows together in confusion. "Like, which song?"
"I don't know, what would you like to learn?"
I think about it for a moment, not really caring what I choose because I don't foresee myself sitting long enough to learn the guitar. "How about Stairway to Heaven?"
"Hmmm, probably too much for your first song." She sticks her thumbnail between her teeth and nibbles on the tip as she ponders my options. "Let me think about it and I'll pick one out for you."
I laugh at her willingness to pursue this harebrained idea. But I have to give her credit; she seems truly interested in returning the favor. Though it's not at all necessary. "You really think you can teach me to play the guitar? You don't even know me that well. What if I'm all thumbs?"
"You'll just have to trust me. I can teach anybody to play an instrument. Besides, you've had your capable hands on me once before, so I definitely know you're not all thumbs."
The smile she gives me nearly knocks me back a foot, and I catch myself before drawing a sharp breath. This girl could offer to teach me anything and I'd willingly agree to it. I know right away I'm in trouble and should probably get out while I can, but I'll be damned if I'm not ready to jump off this crazy train just yet.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CASSIE
I woke this morning with a smile on my face. Come to think of it, I'd gone to bed with one plastered there as well.
Those few hours Brantley spent in my room last night had done wonders for my outlook on Friday's test. Even so, I'd told him I needed another study session to go over a few problems. I have no illusions that I'll master the concepts of calculus after only days of studying his tips, but if I can pass with a C+, I'll be satisfied.
I go through the motions of the day, somehow managing to remain awake while listening to the most boring government lecture ever given. Roni texts me as I'm leaving class, asking if I want to meet up after lunch. Of course, I say yes. She got in late last night, so we haven't had a chance to catch up. As I make my way across campus, I hear a familiar voice calling after me. I stop and turn in time to see Davis coming up behind me.
In his red Henley and baseball cap turned backwards, he looks every bit the mixture of hot athlete and shy college boy. I offer a warm smile, which he immediately returns. Davis is cute. Really cute. He's shorter than Brantley, but the rippling muscles beneath his shirt tell me that on the ice he's a force to be reckoned with. Brown eyes dance behind his smile, and I like the way his sandy-blond hair curls around the edges of his hat. I take it all in, but while my eyes appreciate his boy-next-door good looks, he doesn't make my heart flutter the way Brantley does.