Ollie buys my lie and I swear I hear him mutter something like, “Goalies are fuckin nutjobs.”
I take no offense. First off, he’s not really wrong. And also, if he thinks I’m crazy for running drills at this hour, he’s less likely to follow me.
And that’s a good thing, because Ollie’s not invited on this field trip. Once I’ve cleared the front door, I scan the yard in search of a curvy little blonde whose hips and ass were made for my hands.
This place is empty. There’s no one out here. It’s just a graveyard of party remnants. There are kicked kegs and plastic cups. Lawn chairs and beach towels. But no Maggie.
Before I left the house, I gave the living room a long glance, but she wasn’t there either.
I have no clue how she made it very far on her busted ankle, and that has me a little concerned. That’s what has me bounding up the steps to the main drag and jogging back to campus.
I’m on a mission to find my Cinderella. I’m nobody’s Prince Charming, but that’s a plus in this scenario because that guy was a fuckin idiot. I’m serious. He was madly in love with the girl, right? Hunted her down for the sole purpose of making her his bride. But he didn’t know what she looked like?
A fucking idiot, I’m telling you.
I mean, how do you come back from that? I’ve never had a long-term relationship, and the only real role models I had growing up were the people I watched on TV, so I’m no expert. But I’m pretty sure no woman on Earth would let a guy get away with that bullshit. Cinderella should have called his royal ass on the carpet, in my opinion. And when he came back with some piss-poor excuse like he was drunk, or he couldn’t stop staring at her tits long enough to get a good look at her face, she should have shoved that glassslipper where the sun doesn’t shine, and the little bluebirds don’t chirp.
I’m just sayin’.
There’s no sign of Maggie on my run, and since she didn’t know her friend’s address, I’m running out of ideas on where to find her. Truthfully, that’s probably for the best. Do I want to see her again? No doubt. Do I want a chance to make love to her in an actual bed? Damn right.
But unlike that Prince Charming dumbass, I’m not going to stoop to the level of knocking on every door on campus searching for her. I hate to admit it, but if she wanted to see me again or even wanted some help getting home, she wouldn’t have left me the way she did.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and for a brief second, I wonder if it could be Maggie. We didn’t exchange numbers unless I was so blissed out after the best orgasm of my life that I started chanting my digits in hopes that she’d remember them. Or maybe she tracked me down? We didn’t exchange last names, either, but hockey’s become a popular sport here at BU since we started winning, which means we’re all pretty well-known on campus.
I pull out my phone to see a group text from Coach.
Coach Baylor:Reminder: Team meeting at ten a.m. Don’t be late.
I don’t believe in signs, but if I did, this one would be flashing neon.
I’ve got a couple hours, so I turn and head in the direction of the dining hall, effectively ending my quest to find Maggie.
Hockey is all I have time for. It’s all that matters to me. It’s the only thing I’ve ever loved that’s loved me back. It’s the sole reason I’m here. It’s the thing that’s keeping me from repeating the mistakes of my parents, the thing that’s going to get me out of the shithole I grew up in and on to greener pastures.
The cafe is pretty deserted, but that just means that I’ll getmy food quicker. Soon enough, I’m sitting at a table with enough food in front of me to feed a family of four. I’m spearing a piece of sausage with my spork when I spot a mane of blonde hair. I’m about two seconds from standing and declaring my true love when the girl turns my way.
It’s not Maggie.
Not even close, except for the hair. And even I’m aware that long blonde hair is hardly a unique feature for a college girl.
My phone buzzes again. Coach wants to know if I can meet up before ten, and of course I say yes. I’ve got nothing else to do, and strategy sessions with Coach Baylor always help me get my head on straight.
That’s clearly what I need since I’m sitting here trying to erase Maggie from my brain. She left no trace behind, so it’s clear that what we had was one and done. And even if she was interested in hanging out again, I have no time for relationships unless she wants to date between three and four a.m.
But she ran off before I even woke up. No note, no nothing, just a clear indication that she’s not interested in any more than what we shared last night. And after the way I grew up, there is only one thing I know about relationships and that’s that I don’t want anybody who doesn’t want me.
CHAPTER 9
JT
It’s goingto be a great year. I can feel it.
We had a hell of a run last season, and it was made even sweeter by the fact that very few people expected us to go that far. Sure, Coach has turned this team around in the last five years or so, but we camethis closeto a national title. That’s pretty fucking stellar, if I do say so myself.
I’m damn proud of the work we put in last year. We found ways to win. We never gave up. We just kept pushing through every obstacle that came our way. In the end, all that fire and determination didn’t get us the win, but it gave us a taste.
Looking around this room, it’s clear I’m not the only one hungry for more.
