“Good call. You smell like ass,” Coop yells after me as I jog up to my room.
I go through the motions of emptying my bag, sorting what I need for tomorrow and throwing the rest in the hamper. I wash up, put on fresh clothes, and then stall in my doorway.
In the twenty minutes I’ve been gone, the party has already tripled in size. It’s crowded and already getting hot. I can’t blame the guys too much. It’s still the off-season, technically, and since classes aren’t in session yet, no one has any studying to do.
I swing through the kitchen for a beer (just one, Dad, chill). There are people everywhere, but my size alone makes it easy to see over the crowd and make my way to one of the couches.
I thumb through my phone, checking scores and mindlessly looking at videos. Before I know it, an hour has passed. Damn, this socializing thing isn’t so bad after all.
Not two seconds after that thought crosses my mind, do I realize how completely wrong I am.
I’m halfway through the old game tape my dad sent me, when I hear moaning in my left ear. What the actual fuck? I’m not the only one occupying this sofa anymore. I’ve been joined by my teammate, Nic Rosen, but we exchange no pleasantries. And that’s because there’s a woman wrapped around him like a damn octopus.
And based on the sounds he’s making, he doesn’t mind a bit. I’m not sticking around, though. I vacate my seat and it’s quickly filled by a girl who’s all too eager to watch Rosie and his date.
My beer’s warm, so I make my way toward the kitchen, all the while calculating if I’ve spent enough time at the party. I get my answer when I walk up to the keg and nod at Coop and Vonne, then get pulled aside by JD.
My captain lays it right out there. “Briggsy, get out there and show your face. Fuck, even smile if the spirit moves you. Look, I get this isn’t your scene, and hell, it’s not really mine, either, but at least act like you like these people. It’s no secret you're hot shit on the ice and you keep us on our winning streak, but these guys need to see you let loose if they're really going to trust you.”
“Yeah, I hear you.” I give a half a smile of acknowledgement and head back toward the living room. I skip flip cup because I do not need a hangover tomorrow, but I spot Chase and Jonesy, a couple of rookies, and figure we can talk shop for a while.
I walk over to where they’re standing, but their eyes aren’t on me. Nope. Like everyone else at the party, their attention has turned toward the door. I swear even the music stops when she walks in.
I may only be a sophomore, but it’s a well-known fact at Moo U that no party really starts until Paige Underwood arrives. She’s like the Pied Piper of Frat Boys, this one. Well, athletes, too. She’s a magnet. Guys want to be with her and girls want to be around her. And why the hell wouldn’t they? She’s a knockout, and she’s as sweet and charming as she is gorgeous.
Well, at least that’s what I’ve heard. Paige and I have never had so much as a conversation. She’s friends with a lot of the guys on the team, though. And I was at the Kappa Sig party last year when she hopped up on the deejay’s table and danced to the Booty Medley— “Doin the Butt,” “Rumpshaker,” and of course, “Baby Got Back.”
Paige Underwood’s ass is a work of art.
Her ass is also none of my business. I have no time for dating or hooking up, not to mention the fact that she’s so far out of my league it’s ridiculous. I’m not a troll or anything, but I’m just not one of those charismatic guys that people like Paige are drawn to.
Chase and Jonesy are still talking and for a brief minute, I wonder if I could sneak upstairs. Not that I would deliberately disobey my captain’s order to socialize, but would it be so bad if I snuck upstairs for half an hour or so? No one would notice. And I could come back in a bit when everyone is even drunker, and make a quick appearance.
“Dude! Briggsy. Do not go upstairs.” Shit. Chase has only been here a couple weeks and already he has a handle on how much I try to avoid shit like this.
“I’ll stick around for another beer,” I concede, since I just refilled my cup and promised JD I would.
“Fuck that noise, goalie, we’re getting trashed.” Chase looks like he’s trained all his life for this moment. With his backwards cap and Moo U shirt with the sleeves ripped off, he’s clearly achieving every bro goal he’s ever set.
“Slow down, rookie. The season isn’t that far away,” I caution.
“But it doesn’t start tomorrow,” he says, and I have no choice but to follow him. If he gets shitfaced and does something stupid, there’ll be hell to pay.
He leads me into what would typically be the dining room, but we’re a bunch of guys, so the room is pretty much devoted to ping pong and foosball. All right, this won’t be so bad. A little beer pong and we can all call it a night.
Uh, yeah. Not so much.
There, among a small crowd in my dining room, stands Paige. She’s deep in concentration, setting up something. There are a couple of chairs haphazardly circling the table. Some people are sitting, a couple are still standing, and Andy, one of the guys who lives next door, is sitting on the floor.
“What the—”
“Drunk Jenga, Briggsy. C’mon.” Chase all but drags me over to join the game.
Sweet Hell. As if Jenga needed to be more complicated, you go and add a bunch of drunk college kids to the equation. Still, I’m not too worried about my chances. I’ve got reflexes like a damn cat and my balance rivals that of any yoga instructor. I will survive this game unscathed.
At least, I think I will.
“Everybody knows the rules, but just in case you’re a newbie,” I swear Paige looks right at me when she says this, “it’s regular Jenga, but you have to do whatever’s on the tile you pull. So, what’s that one say, Benny?” she asks the guy directly across from her as he pulls the first tile.
