“So, do you even need a major? Can’t you just be undeclared until you get that call?”
“That seems unnecessarily risky,” he says frowning. “Have I mentioned how superstitious athletes are? Because that feels strangely like tempting fate.”
“Dammit. Okay, last guess...Accounting?”
This time, he laughs so hard, I think he might fall off the bed. “No, but I can see where you’d get that. Despite my genetics, numbers aren’t really my thing, unless we’re talking stats.”
“What is it then?”
“Wildlife Fisheries and Biology.”
“Seriously? What the hell? If I had popcorn, and was eating said popcorn, I’d throw it at your face.”
“And I’d catch it before it hit me,” he returns. “Reflexes like a damn cat, remember?”
I know he’s referring to the coffee shop incident, but that’s not where my mind goes, not at all. Instantly, I’m thinking back to that party at the hockey house when he caught me before I fell off the chair. Even before that moment, I was intrigued by him. There had to be a hundred people there, but it felt like we were the only two people in the room. The way his hands grazed over my body, every touch igniting me.
The room goes quiet and I realize he’s remembering it, too. I can almost feel the air crackle between us as desire pools low in my belly. I look up at him, and, holy hell, his thoughts are clearly on the same track. His brown eyes roam over my body and I’m about two seconds from tossing his laptop onto the pile of pillows below.
“Hey, Lily and I are getting pizza. You guys want any?” Emma swings my door open. “Or not. Not pizza, got it,” she says and backs out of the room.
The moment is effectively gone. Damn Emma and her inability to knock. I could be straddling Spence’s thighs right about now.
Spence clears his throat. “So, yeah. That’s all the questions from Winslow. I’ve got those other questions, though. You know, to take up more time. And I figured they’d be more interesting to listen to.”
“Yep, sounds good. Hit me with the first one.”
“Let me find a good one...here.If you were the ruler of your own country, what would be your first law?”
That’s too easy. “In my country, we’d throw the best parties. And attendance would be mandatory,” I answer easily. He types my response into his laptop, but offers nothing else. So, of course, I keep talking. “Socialization is really important for mental health. Everybody needs to relax and let loose every once in a while.”
He nods. “Got it. You’re up.”
Ok then...I scan the list he forwarded and find a good one. “If you were stuck on a deserted island with all you needed to survive, like food, water, and shelter, what two things would you want to take with you?”
“Easy. A puck and stick. I wouldn’t need pads, because I’d be alone. And I could make a net out of something I found.”
“Uh, can you play hockey on the sand?”
“I can play hockey anywhere,” he says with confidence. “Besides, you didn’t say it was a desert island, just deserted. It could be in Greenland. And even if I were in the tropics, I’d have ice.” At my confused expression, he continues, “You said I’d have all my basic needs met. Ice is a basic need for me.”
I’m starting to see that hockey is pretty much all this guy thinks about. We keep asking each other questions, and laughing at the answers. Before I realize it, we’ve run through half the list.
“Dude. I have enough here to write your biography. I think we’re good to write our two-minute speeches,” I say.
“Yeah, you’re probably right. But the fact that you broke your arm in second grade is an essential detail— I’m glad we covered that.” He smiles and my insides melt. Spending the next few months with this guy as my speech partner? Torture. Delicious torture.
7
Spencer
Just a couple days ago, I was in Paige’s dorm reviewing questions and prepping our speeches. Now, I’m sweating and pacing in a hall outside our classroom, looking for a way out of this.
“Paige,” I call just before she reaches the door to our lecture hall—the lecture hall I should be sitting in. The same lecture hall where we’ll be giving our intro speeches in about a half hour. Unless I pass out first.
“Hey Spence,” she says, but when she sees my face, her smile falters. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
“I don’t think we should be partners,” I tell her, rubbing the back of my neck to find it damp with sweat.
