Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 125845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125845 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 419(@300wpm)
“Anyway, aside from the teeny little hiccup of me yanking it with you in mind, I’m truly digging this thing we have.” He gestures between us. “Promise me this will never change.”
“That what will never change?”
“That you’ll never want to sleep with me,” he says dramatically.
The sheer arrogance… I release a sigh of my own and reach over to pat his stupidly muscular arm. “I promise I will never want to sleep with you, Hunter.”
11
Hunter
I’ve been avoiding Greek Row parties since the Theta Beta Nu lingerie torture fest, but the boys insist on hitting a frat party after our game on Saturday. We played at Suffolk, so the bus doesn’t drop us off on campus until past eleven. Then we have to drive to Hastings, because we all live off-campus and the guys want to change. Or, in Foster’s case, grab his weed.
Hard partying during the season is minimal, but drinking and the occasional joint isn’t unheard of. I know several hockey guys who do coke, but Coach Jensen runs a clean program at Briar. Every now and then someone hits up a concert and does MDMA, but it’s not a frequent occurrence. We’re all wholly aware of the NCAA’s strict (and random) drug-testing protocol.
Instead of choosing a designated driver, we take an Uber back to campus because everybody’s planning on having some drinks to celebrate winning our games this weekend. But our schedule has been light so far. Next week we’re facing some tough matchups, including Boston University, and they’re undefeated this season. But it’s early yet.
Conor is next to me in the backseat, with Foster on his other side. Con’s scrolling through his phone. Probably browsing his digital black book.
I’m on egg duty tonight, so I wore a collared shirt with a pocket that I could stick Pablo in. “Look at this manwhore,” I tell the egg. “You ever see anything so disgusting?”
Conor’s head lifts from the screen. “Oh, can it. I’ve heard the rumors about you, Mr. I Boned Every Woman on Campus Last Year.”
He’s got me there. “Who are you talking to?” I ask curiously.
“This chick Michelle. She’s meeting us at the party.”
He resumes his texting, so I follow suit, because Foster is also on his phone and I’m tired of being ignored. I message Hollis, who’s home for the weekend and wanted to party with us tonight. He and Rupi were arguing about it when I left. He wanted to go, she wanted to stay home. Girlfriends, amiright?
ME: Dude, just sling that little hellcat over your shoulder and come out. You know you want to…
HOLLIS: I really really want to. Been soooo long since I went to a party :((( Is this what it’s like having a gf? Constant snuggling?
I’m typing a response when another message pops up.
HOLLIS: I didn’t mean that. Having a girlfriend is the most rewarding experience in a young man’s life. Girlfriends are to be treasured.
ME: Rupi, did you steal Mike’s phone?
NO, is the response, and I start laughing because it’s so obvious that she did. Corny words aside, Hollis has never texted in full sentences in his life.
ME: Throw the man a bone, Rupes. He wants to go to a party, not a weeklong EDM festival. Basically means having a beer or two and grinding up all over you to shitty music. Be nice to him for once.
No reply. My phone remains silent all the way to campus, not lighting up until the guys and I are sliding out of the Uber.
HOLLIS: U are da fucking man, Davenport! SEE YOU THERE!!!!!!!!
Well. I did my good deed for the day.
A crowd gathers outside the Alpha Delta house. This terrific weather we’ve been experiencing is still holding up, and although it’s almost midnight the air is balmy and people are in shorts and T-shirts. The frat even set up a snow cone machine on the front lawn. I love college.
Conor thumps me on the arm. “Michelle says she’s out back.” He winks. “In the hot tub.”
Foster pales. “Oh, Jesus, no, do not go in that hot tub. You’re gonna get syphilis of the leg.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Don’t you remember that gross rash on Jesse’s leg? During preseason? Yeah, he got it from soaking in the Alpha Delt hot tub, AKA Bacteria Central.”
“It’s true, he did,” Bucky confirms. “I don’t think anyone ever checks the pH levels or whatever the hell you’re supposed to do.” He wags a finger at me. “Don’t bring Pablo anywhere near it.”
“Yeah, you might boil the fucker,” Foster guffaws.
“He’s already hard-boiled,” I argue. “He can’t get any more boiled.”
“So?”
“So I could crack him open right now and he’d be delicious.”
“Dude, don’t do that,” drawls Conor. “That egg has changed so many hands these past couple weeks it probably has syphilis.”
I snort and pat my breast pocket. “Congrats. You get to live another day, Mr. Eggscobar.”