18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Wes

Cody barrels towards me at full speed.

Think of what would happen if a 5’10 brickhouse got access to Vin Diesel’s personal supply of nitrous oxide. Now, throw in a set of wheels and some killer abs, and you’ve basically created the equivalent of Taber Tigers’ finest defenseman. Also known as the obstacle standing between me and the net.

Keeping an eye on the blonde fauxhawk approaching at an alarming rate, I scan the field to assess my options. If I can deke out Cody at the last minute - fake right then go left - I might be able to make a corner shot, although my shooting angle wouldn’t be ideal… A rapid blur hits my peripheral, so I risk life and limb to turn and see Hunter making a breakaway. Sprinting up the left side of the field, he makes the signal for me to pass. I yank my stick back and fling it as hard as I can towards the open section Hunter is sprinting to. The ball hits the ground, and Hunter swoops it up mid-bounce. Ever the die-hard defenseman, Cody changes trajectory even though it’s too late. With a pivot and a beautiful arm swing, Hunter secures our win with a perfect corner shot.

Cheers erupt along the field as the ball hits the back of the net. Even my teammates wearing red jerseys walk by to smack Hunter on the back for that spectacular shot.

That’s my favourite thing about rallies: no matter which side wins, a good performance is a good performance for the whole team. And given the fact this is our last practice before our showdown with Silverwood this weekend, an outstanding play was just what we needed to get one last confidence boost before game day.

“Hell of a shot, Hunter.” Sweat trickles down Cody’s forehead as he claps my fellow rookie on the shoulder. I watch the tension dissolve from my fellow rookie’s stance.

“Thanks Cap,” Hunter smiles tentatively at the compliment, no doubt waiting for the criticism that typically follows. I’m prettysure Cody is over the whole tongue-down-Stella’s-throat-situation but that doesn’t change the fact the man can hold a grudge.

In other words: Caveman no like Hunter.

The funny thing is Cody’s constant nagging has caused Hunter’s skills to improve by leaps and bounds. He’s still a little weak on the passing front, but his shooting has gone from embarrassing to semi-impressive.

Am I concerned about Hunter stealing my rookie of the year award? Hell nah. To be the best you have to beat the best. The hardest competitors are the ones you learn the most from. Not to mention, I’m never one to back down from a challenge.

Just ask Trip.

“Wes, your assist was risky, but it paid off. A safer bet would have been to throw the ball atHunter rather than in frontof him. Most forwards slow down to anticipate the catch, you assumed Hunter would keep his momentum going.” Cody pauses to wipe his brow, “That was either a lucky guess or seriously impressive intuition.”

“It was neither,” a sole eyebrow raises. “I’ve watched Hunter struggle to catch long shots during practice and the common denominator is he always overruns the pass. Like you said, most players slow down to anticipate the catch and make it easier for ball handling; but for Hunter, once he gets some momentum, he can’t seem to slow it down. So, I figured by overshootingthe pass, it would counteract Hunter’s overrunning.” I finish off my spiel with a casual shrug, hoping my modesty does not go unnoticed.

“So you’re saying that your assist was strategic, not risky.” There’s a challenge in Cody’s tone as if he’s testing to see if I remember who I am talking to.

Hey, if my captain can’t handle strategic plays and strong opinions, then maybe I’m playing for the wrong team.

“That is exactly what I’m saying. I have taken stock of all our players’ strengths and weaknesses, so if you want, I’d be happy to sit down and help you create plays for our game Saturday.” Shit, now I sound like I’m vying for the man’s position.

To my relief, Cody nods thoughtfully, “I’ve drawn up some plans, but I would love your take on it. You’ve played with some of these rookies more than I have, so it would be good to get a different perspective.”

Resisting the urge to pump my fist in the air, I play it cool. “Sweet. Awesome. So, ya shoot me a text when you want to meet up. I’m looking forward to it.”

I promise it sounded cooler in my head.

Cody smirks at my fanboy moment and I decide now is the perfect time to help dismantle the nets.

“Have you invited Trip to watch the game?” The question stops me in my tracks, and I choose to ignore the warm feeling unfolding in my chest.

“No, but I’m thinking of asking her to hangout tomorrow, so maybe I’ll invite her then.”

Man, psychology class has never been so fun. I didn’t take a single note last class and there’s no way I’m passing this next essay, but teasing Trip was one hundred percent worth it. The way her body clenched at my touch? Oh man. I almost ate her out right then and there; jean shorts be damned. The only downfall of Operation Desk Down Under was I couldn’t see her face from my vantage point. And seeing her misty eyes roll back in pleasure is steadily creeping to the top of my bucket list.

Here’s the kicker: I genuinely love hanging out with her. Not because there’s a chance we might fool around – although that is a welcome bonus - but because in the last few weeks Trip has somehow become one of my favourite people.

Have you ever had that out-of-body experience where youthink you’re about to exhale but end up inhaling instead? No? Well, I should probably get that checked out.

My point is the action takes you by complete surprise even though your body knew it was coming all along. That is Trip to me.

She is my inhale that has taken the place of everything else.

“Well, I’m sure she will be happy to come support you.” Cody’s voice snaps me out of my reverie and suddenly my Spidey senses are tingling. There is a hidden conversation going on.

“Have you invited Stella to watch the game?” Boom. Who’s the white Gandhi now.

Cody shoots me a quizzical look, “Why would I do that?”

“Aw, come on Cap. You’re talking to your boy here.” My response gets an eyebrow raise, so I’m thinking the boy comment was a little offside.

But hey, if a man recruits another man as his wingman, it is only appropriate to assume an unbreakable bond has been made. Whether Cody knows it or not, we are partners for life.

“She’ll be at the game. Mo’s going to be there.” Shit. I forgot the legend himself is attending this next game.

“Aren’t you two pretty close?” Cody barely mentions the guy, but I remember Stella insinuating they were tight.

My comment earns a shrug, “He was a great mentor my freshman year. Taught me tricks to improve my game as well as study habits. When he nominated me captain at the end of last year, I was blown away. The fact he chose a soon-to-be sophomore instead of one of the senior players caused a huge backlash, but Mo stood by his decision.” Cody pauses, his face pensive.

“Mo always gets his way.” I repeat the comment Cody made just the other night. He nods in acknowledgment, “You don’t get labelled Mighty if people can push you around.”

My captain looks off in the distance, perspiration glistening along his neck.

“After nominating me captain, he pulled me aside to state the one condition of my position. No matter what happens on the field, we’re brothers. And as his brother, it’s up to me to lookout for our sister next year.” My eyes widen at the confession.

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on a junior. Did you even know Stella at the time?” Rubbing his neck, Cody barks out a laugh, “He pointed her out every game. She never missed one. But as for meeting her? Until last year’s banquet, she was simply a blonde silhouette in the bleachers.”

“Whoa,” I am at a loss for words. And trust me, that doesn’t happen very often.

I am all for protecting one’s younger siblings, hell, Lacey has always been my number one priority, but to pass that responsibility onto someone else? Not to mention someone who’s just completed their freshman year? That’s a different kind of messed up. I know fora fact that if Lace was in a jam and couldn’t get a hold of me, Nico would gladly take my place. But that’s hisdecision, not one I would make for him.

“Anyways, Stella will definitely be in the stands on Saturday.”

“With Mo,” I voice the unspoken thought written across Cody’s face.

He huffs out a breath and gives me a weary smile, “That’s right. She’ll be in the stands with Mo.”

Lou

“What movie is it going to be tonight?” My roommate struts into the living room waving around the remote like she’s the world’s shortest game show host.

“You choose.” I’m scribbling down study notes for the fifteen exams coming up next week. Okay, fifteen might be a slight exaggeration; it’s more like ten. Or three.

“Always giving me the tough decisions.” Stella plops herself down on the couch next to me and I shift my books to make more room.

“The question is: can I find a film that’s more exciting than a certain lacrosse player admiring a lovely pair of legs during psychology class?” I throw my pen at her and Stella bats it away with a laugh.

“I regret telling you that.” My grumble is met with a fake pout and dark blue eyes batting my way.

“Aw, come on. It would be cruel for you to deprive me of gossip that frisky and even crueler of me to never bring it up.”

I sigh, pushing my study notes away as Stella starts flipping through Netflix. No more work will be done tonight, so I may as well enjoy the roommate bonding.

“Do you think it’s strange, what I’m doing with Wes?” I blush as I ask the question, feeling oddly exposed and unsure of whether I really want the answer.

“You mean the kissing or the classroom fondling?” Stella unglues her gaze from the screen to glance at me. I shift uncomfortably, face no doubt as red as a tomato.

“Er… both? We haven’t gone on any dates so does that make us friends with benefits or just friends who occasionally fool around?” Both of those options make me cringe. But asking if we are kind of, sort of, maybe a thingmakes me want to cringe even more.

Stella taps her chin thoughtfully, “Unfortunately for us, your boy has not taken the traditional route. So, even though his signals seem clear, at the end of the day it is still an assumption on our part.” I nod for her to continue, choosing not to focus on how much I love hearing Wes referred to as my boy.

“What we do know is Wes invests his time, effort, and energy in making sure you are having the best time in every situation. Whether that means giving you a hug in the middle of rush week, dressing up like Billie Joe Armstrong because he’s your favourite singer, or teaching you the miracles he can perform with his tongue; Wes is always looking out for your best interests.” Stella throws me a wink with the last item and I stick my tongue out in response.

“What we don’t know is the exclusivity of these make out sessions and whether Wes is serious about embarking on a relationship.” I’ve been repeating the same thing to myself all week but hearing the words come out of Stella’s mouth hits me harder than expected.

Unable to hide my grimace, I do my best to shrug it off.

“Look, Lou. Everyone knows Wes is interested, hell even Wes knows he’s interested. But the problem is boys are dumb. Say it with me: Boys. Are. Dumb.” A smile tugs my lips as we chant the anthem in our otherwise silent dorm.

“That’s my girl. Now, even though we don’t know what Wes’ intentions are, we do know that he is a great guy. So, my advice is to move forward with caution. Keep having fun but don’t put all your eggs in one basket, if you know what I mean. Well, at least not until he asks you out on an official date because in that case all bets are off.” She makes a crude motion with her hands and a laugh bursts out of me.

“Thank you, Stella.” Holding out my arm for a side hug, my roommate shuffles over to wrap her arms tightly around me.

“Anytime, hon. Just promise me one thing.” Pulling away from our embrace, I see a hint of concern shining in her pretty eyes.

“When the time comes, just make sure you’re the only girl on his mind.” Just as I’m opening my mouth to respond, my phone buzzes with an incoming message.

WES: I’ve got an emergency.

Stella playfully flicks me on the nose to get my attention.

“Just remember what I said, okay? I don’t normally break lacrosse players twice my size, but I’ll do it if I have to.” Her unshakable loyalty brings tears to my eyes. When was the last time I had someone other than my parents in my corner?

Blinking the excess emotion from my eyes, I nod, “I’ll remember. I promise.”

“Good.” Stella jumps up from the couch, stalks into her room, and returns a few moments later with a bag of microwave popcorn.

“I’m going to get our snacks ready, so you’ve got exactly two minutes and thirty seconds to respond to that handsome man before I steal you away for our movie night.” With a disapproving wag of her finger, she declares, “No Tommy Texters allowed.”

A sheepish grin takes over my face as I hastily pull up my texting conversation thread.

ME: Do you need CPR?

WES: Only if you’re offering.

If there is one thing Wes has mastered, it is the art of flirting. And maybe kissing.

ME: The only CPR course I took, I failed.

WES: Note to self: Don’t go to Trip for life support.

ME: Funny. What’s the non-life-threatening emergency?

I can hear Stella humming above the whirling noise of the microwave. I sneak a glance over the couch – and yup, my roommate is in the middle of swaying her hips to the sound of kernels popping. I’ve yet to find a situation where Stella doesn’t dance.

WES: The opener is in two days, and I don’t have a dress shirt.

My brows knit together in confusion.

ME: You wear a dress shirt to play the first game of the season?

WES: I wish. Sadly, the formal wear is just tradition for the team to wear on game day.

Oh. That does make more sense.

ME: I see. So what do you need me for?

The microwave beeps and my roommate yells from the kitchen, “Ten seconds, Lou!”

I shake my phone impatiently as typing bubbles appear.

WES: I need your help to pick out the perfect shirt.

ME: Talk about pressure. Wouldn’t Nico be a better partner for this?

WES: Nico isn’t the person I’m trying to impress.

My breath catches in my throat. Surely he can’t mean me, can he? My thumbs hesitate over the keyboard as more typing bubbles appear beneath his last comment.

WES: You are.