4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Wes

Sweat drips down my neck as I sprint across the field.

I would say we are finishing practice with a friendly rally but given all three rookies got put on the same team, it feels more like a test than anything. Seeing Cody’s defence line closing in on Hunter’s breakaway, I quickly swerve right, raising my stick to signal a pass. Without hesitation, Hunter tosses me the ball and I catch it easily in my stick’s mesh netting. Swivelling and putting all my power into my throwing arm, I hurl the ball as hard as I can towards the net, holding my breath until I see it glide past the goalie’s outstretched hand.

My team breaks into cheer and Cody runs up to slap me on the back. “Keep that up and we might win some games this year.”

Turning to address the rest of the team, our team captain waves everyone in. “Excellent hustle today, boys. I am pleased with both teams’ performances but I’m afraid a deal’s a deal.” Groans go up from the guys wearing blue jerseys.

“Red team can hit the showers, blue team you’re on clean up duty. Pack up the equipment and don’t forget the 100 push ups.” Taking a second to hand out a round of high fives, I split off from the red batch and circle back to help the losing team pack up.

“Wes, I didn’t know you were coloured blind. The jersey on your back means you’re clear to go.” Cody points to the group of guys heading towards the showers.

I shrug, continuing to bag lacrosse sticks. “Doesn’t matter what side I’m on Cap; if my teammates lose, I do too.” Cody looks at me for a moment then nods.

“In that case, don’t forget the push ups.” I give him a salute, and with a laugh, my team captain wanders over to help dissemble the nets.

Shaking wet hair out of my eyes, I walk out of the men’s changerooms and spot none other than the girl who ghosted me scurrying down the hall, arms teetering with books.

“Lou! Hey, I was wondering when I’d seen you again. Makes it a little more challenging when I’m left on read.” Quickening my pace to catch up, I shoot her a grin to let her know I’m joking. Lou winces, her shockingly pretty eyes meeting mine.

“Sorry about that. I was pretty tired… and didn’t want to get knocked down for a second time that day.” She gives me a hesitant smile and I bark out a laugh, pleased she’s just as snarky as I remember.

“Hey, anytime you want to test the limitations of gravity with a strong, independent man, you know where to find me.” I shoot her a wink and get an eye roll in return.

“Did you really just describe yourself as an independent man?”

“Sure did. Although I accept other adjectives as well. Panty-dropping sexy. Built to perfection. Irresistibly charming. Whichever you prefer.”

“Noticed you left incredibly modest off that list.” Lou shifts the books in her arms, and one topples out of the pile.

“Hey, even a mere mortal like myself understands we all have weaknesses. The trick is knowing what they are and using them to your advantage.” Noting the confusion on Lou’s face, I snatch the book off the ground and hold it out as proof.

“Take your inability to carry normal amounts, for instance. You managed to get the attention and number of the best-looking freshman on campus.” Carefully placing the fallen book back on her pile, my lips tug into a smirk, “I’d say that’s using it to your advantage.”

A fiery glint lights up Lou’s eyes, and suddenly I can see all the different shades of grey swirling around her pupil. “Last time I checked, it was you who offered to help yesterday and you got my number while flirtingwith my number.”

Looking down at Lou’s slight frame, an unconventional beauty are the words that come to mind. Her nose is a touch on the small side, the placement of her misty eyes slightly too wide, and her bottom lip is a little too full for the top one. Yet there’s something inexplicably beautiful about the girl standing in front of me.

Maybe it’s her ability to ghost me.

“Exactly my point. Your weakness resulted in meputting in all the effort. A job well done Miss Trip.” My grin grows wider as Lou huffs, her irritation levels visibly climbing.

“Do not call me that. And your inability to use logic in an argument leaves me with nothing else to say.” Spinning on her heel, she storms in the opposite direction.

Unable to help myself, I cup my hands around my mouth and make one last parting shot to her departing figure.

“Any chance you could give me your mom’s number?”

Lou

The nerve of that guy. I mean really.

Best-looking freshman on campus? Come on. So maybe the dark hair, emerald eyes, and dimples would place him in the top ten. But best? Please. The dimples are more annoying than anything.

Barely managing to keep the stack in my arms from toppling over, I hurry across campus, heading back to my dorm. I agreed to accompany Stella to the opening session of rush week this afternoon, and it’s not exactly something I’m looking forward to.

Rush week happens every fall with the goal to convince freshmen that the perfect university experience is one club membership away. Just like the movies, rush week gives socially awkward students like me the chance to try something new and potentially make lifelong friends in the process. Or so they say.

As of right now, the sheer thought of succumbing to Taber’s social marketing strategies is enough to make my stomach cramp up in knots. Joining a club means another first day full of new faces. It means my outsider status coming back to haunt me once again, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that.

Dread pricks my skin as I consider the sickening possibility of Stella witnessing my inability to fit in anywhere. The friendship I’ve forged with my roommate in the last 48 hours has quickly become my most prized possession. It’s been three long years since I’ve had anyone to call my friend, so I can’t risk this one by following some freshman status quo.

Making up my mind that I will not, in fact, be joining any clubs this afternoon, I find I can breathe easily again. Crisis averted.

Uncomfortably shifting the books in my arms for the tenth time, I somehow manage not to drop a single one. I take a glance around, instantly slowing my hasty march to a brisk walk as the scenery around me takes a turn for the better.

Instead of walking through the winding hallways and past the school cafeteria, I decide to take a shortcut outside and cut directly to my residence building. It seems as though my shortcut has led me to a courtyard of some sort, as the concrete beneath my feet turns into cobblestones that follow an explosion of flora down the pretty path. Taber must have a garden club because the rows of vibrant, blooming flowers display a level of precision and care I have never seen before. Fall-coloured aspen trees line the edges of the path, creating a wall of seclusion from the busy bustle of the university. Stone benches jut out every few feet, and I spot a couple of them occupied by students reading.

It’s so… peaceful. I love it.

Making a silent promise to myself to return to this slice of tranquility, I take one last look at the breathtaking flora, then quicken my pace to go meet my roommate.

“I can’t believe the two of you keep bumping into each other! I swear other than you, who I live with, so it doesn’t count, I haven’t seen any of my friends who live on campus.” Having filled Stella in on my box collision with Wes yesterday, she’s now up to date.

“Ya, well, every time I see Wes my personal belongings somehow find their way to the ground.” I solemnly shake my head, mentally cursing my inability to carry normal quantities like a normal person.

“You better be careful, Lou. If this guy is as sexy as you say he is, then the next personal item that falls to the ground may be your panties.” My jaw drops.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s backtrack here: I most certainly did not call Wes sexy. I said he has dimples and knows how to use them. That’s it, that’s all. Definitely no sexy in that description.” I shudder in mock horror while Stella bursts out laughing.

“Honey, if a man has the confidence to not only use his dimples but use them effectively? That right there is the definition of sexy. Based on your description, Urban Dictionary probably has a picture of Wes next to the definition of sex appeal.” Stella claps her hands in glee while I focus on not blushing. Now I can’t stop picturing those stupid dimples and crap if they aren’t the teensiest bit sexy.

Hasty to change topics, I use the age-old deflection technique: compliments.

“I really like what you did with your hair today, Stella.” Working like a charm, my roommate beams and proceeds to give me a list of all the braiding styles she can do. I wasn’t lying with the compliment, her platinum mane looks extra gorgeous today. The French braid running along the top right-side ends with an invisible elastic, the rest of it flowing freely down to the tip of her white cargo pants. This girl must own every style of black tank top ever made, because the top she is sporting today is identical to the one from move-in day except for the criss-cross straps going down the back.

If I was impressed by Stella’s arm definition, I am in awe of her sculpted back. You can’t tell where my arms connect to my shoulders, let alone have a map of gym-made markers sectioning off each muscle group in my back. I feel exhausted just looking at it.

Taking a look at my own outfit choice, I am pleased I went with an oversized Blink-182 concert t-shirt. All back and shoulders are covered, so I don’t need to worry about looking like a limp noodle next to my fitness model roommate. The mom jeans my shirt is tucked into were once a pale blue, but now can only be described as distressed. They were originally frayed back in tenth grade, but after many years of use, the frays became… well, holes. Hence why I call these my favourite pair of “ripped” jeans.

My self-assessment comes to an abrupt halt as we reach the foyer. I always thought movies were prone to exaggeration but it turns out Taber University likes to go even bigger. And by bigger, I mean brighter. As in hundreds of different colour schemes assaulting my eyeballs. Organized in columns, rows and rows of booths line the foyer, each with their own explosion of neon banners and posters representing some sort of club theme.

At least that’s what I think is going on. The noise level has hit a point where it might be affecting my visual discernment.

Somehow, I manage to hear Stella squeal over the deafening noise. What my roommate lacks in height, she more than makes up for in energy. I feel small hands grab my arm and next thing I know I’m being dragged to the booth in the farthest corner.

Up close, it’s a bit easier to figure out the individual themes. This one appears to be a cannabis club, with cartoon leaves winking at me from bright green posters. There is only one guy working the booth and as we approach he throws us the peace sign.

“Ready to join the hotbox gang? Been dying to unleash your inner pothead? No problem my dudes. Just leave your email and I’ll send you the addy for our weekly doobie break.”

Biting my lip to keep from laughing, I sneak a glance at Stella who unsubtly coughs into her hand. “So, um, the gang just meets up and gets high together once a week? No meetings or real… purpose to this club?”

We wait a good five seconds for the doobie master to rabidly shake his blond locks back and forth. Not sure if that’s a no, or if he’s trying to find the answer buried deep in his skull.

“Homies, you’ve got this all wrong. Mary Jane is the purpose of this club. Uni gets hella stressful, and like when you need a quick trip, company with fellow hash lovers only makes it better.” Abruptly shoving his chair back, our new friend attempts to stand up on the chair but wisely wobbles back to the ground. He turns a bloodshot gaze on us, placing a hand over his heart.

“CanDoobies For Life isn’t about us. It’s about smoking for those who can’t. Like our poor brothers down in the US of A. Doobies aren’t even legal down there for everyone. Can you imagine? Fucking cruel, man. Fucking cruel.”

Barely holding it together, Stella nods in sympathy. “That is unfortunate. Well, we best be going, but thank you for your time, er…”

“Chaz. Sick t-shirt by the way. Blink rocks.” Throwing me another peace sign, I give Chaz a feeble thumbs up in return.

A fresh wave of students descends upon the CanDoobies booth, and we make our escape just as Chaz begins his welcoming spiel once more. “Looking for a good-time high? Need a doobie brother or two? Just leave your email here…”

“Oh. My. God.” Stella claps a hand over her mouth as we pull away from the booth.

“Did you see him trying to stand on that chair? I thought we’d have to call the emergency help line.” I bend over, clutching my stomach in laughter.

“Forget the chair. How about the fact he calls himself Chaz? His real name is probably Chase but he decided to shorten it and add z, so it looks cooler.” The attempt to straighten myself goes out the window as another wave of laughter hits me. Wiping tears from my eyes, I fan my face to cool my cheeks down.

“We’ve already hit the highest booth. It’s a downhill trip from here.” Stella shakes her head at my terrible puns and links her arm through mine.

Watching the endless mass weave through booths, you wouldn’t think Taber is one of Alberta’s smallest universities. Students of all ages appear to be streaming in from every direction, immediately becoming part of the surrounding chaos. Chatter and laughter fill the air, as if the university itself has sprung to life and hums in tune with the student body. Yet somehow, the incoherent parts come together to form a sort of united whole.

Overwhelming? One hundred percent. Yet, strangely fascinating at the same time. Boys and girls of all shapes and sizes bounce from table to table, making conversation and connections with complete strangers. The dread from earlier feels present but faded. I think the neon overload and club-joining atmosphere has naturally released some of my tension.

Could also be that everyone seems so… comfortable in their own skin. A foreign concept to me, but one that warms the heart to see.

While I have managed to avoid leaving my email at any of the booths we’ve looked at so far, Stella has somehow signed up for every single one. Well, with the one exception of Chaz’s booth.

If I’m being honest, most of the clubs seem interesting, if not fun, and if I wasn’t so paranoid Taber will turn into a re-enactment of high school, I probably would sign up for a couple of them. Heck, I can say with absolute certainty that if I wasn’t so anxious, I definitely would have left my email at the Punk Rockers booth.

Giving a shoutout for anyone with a love for alternative music, the booth features monthly get-togethers where live music, trivia games, and overall audience participation are encouraged. The spokesperson working the booth even had on the same Blink t-shirt as me; if I was a believer in signs, that would have been my cue to join. Yet, even after Stella wrote down her email and followed them on social media, I couldn’t bring myself to do the same.

High school taught me one thing and one thing only: I don’t belong. So, there’s no point in signing myself up for disappointment in hope this one might be different. Because it won’t be. I’ve been down this road before and it always ends the same way.

Despite my commitment to avoid all club commitments, I’m still thinking about the Punk Rockers four booths down. Hard not to, when I’m doing my best not to grimace at the swing dance poster in front of me. Do people actually sign up for this?

To my utmost horror, Stella throws her name down for this one as well, oblivious to the future embarrassment she will be facing. I gawk at her, watching as she happily turns to me and tries for the tenth time to convince me to join.

“You’ve got to give this one a try, Lou. Think about it, we could be partners! Bet I could easily swing you from hip to hip.” Stella mimics the motion, tossing an invisible person from one hip to the next. Applause breaks out from the freshmen a few tables over and Stella drops into a bow for her admirers. I’m still staring at her in horror when she takes my hand and leads me to the corner where the line for free snacks snakes around the corner.

“Alright roomie, what’s your deal? We’ve been here over an hour, and you haven’t written your email down once…”

“Stella? Hey, I thought that was you.” I’m saved from interrogation when a stocky blonde guy wanders over from the snack line. When student budgets are present, there will always be a line when it comes to free food.

“Oh hey, Cody. I didn’t see you at the gym this morning. Second day and already slacking, huh?” Her tone is teasing but the glint in her eyes doesn’t look so friendly. Feeling like I’ve walked into the middle of something, I shift awkwardly from side-to-side as the gym offender shrugs and smiles in response.

“Practice started earlier today and I wanted to check out the new rookies. I would have skipped if I knew my absence would bother you so much.”

Stella laughs, the spell seemly broken as she playfully slaps his arm. I try not to stare at Cody’s insanely broad shoulders, which give the term a mountain of a man a whole new meaning. His arms aren’t any smaller, and the veins running down his forearms attest to that fact. If Hugh Jackman was four inches shorter, two inches wider, sported a blonde fauxhawk, and lost the accent; Cody would be a shoo-in for his next movie.

“Cody, meet my room-

“TRIP!” I groan as familiar tussled dark hair and sparkling green eyes come into view. “I almost didn’t recognize you without bags, books, or boxes weighing you down.” Throwing me a wink, Wes saunters over to give Cody a side bro hug.

“Cody, this is my good friend Trip. I make her a little nervous, so she has a tendency to drop things around me.” I grumble under my breath, purposefully ignoring the dimpled grin sent my way.

Turning his attention to the one person he hasn’t met yet, Wes turns towards Stella and sweeps into an extravagant bow, “And who might be this flawless friend of Trip’s? Milady, it is my greatest pleasure.”

I wouldn’t have pegged Wes as a Duke from the eighteenth century, yet here we are.

My roommate giggles and ducks into a curtsy, “I’m Stella. You must be Wes. Trip has told me so much about you.” Seeing my glare, she blows me a kiss.

Cody, who’d been silently watching the exchange up to this point, sticks out his hand, “Nice to meet you, Trip.” Gritting my teeth, I shake his hand.

In my peripheral, I can see Stella biting her lip trying not to laugh. I turn my volatile stare onto Wes, but before any permanent damage can occur, Cody takes control of the conversation.

“So, have you ladies found any clubs to join?” I instinctively stiffen, knowing what’s about to come.

“We sure have! Well, I’ve signed up for a few. My roommate is a little pickier with who she hands her email out to.” Cody chuckles and his response sends buried emotions rushing to the surface.

Blinking rapidly, I duck my head and stare at my converse, willing the burning sensation to fade. Oblivious to my melodramatics, Stella and Cody continue to chat away. I take a few deep breaths, trying to compose myself.

When I finally look up, a pair of sparkling emeralds stare back at me.

Without a word, Wes takes my hand and leads me away from the gym duo. I swallow thickly, embarrassed he witnessed my emotional moment. Opening my mouth to apologize, I don’t get the chance to say anything before Wes performs his most shocking charade yet.

He pulls me into a hug.

Wes

I didn’t plan on hugging Lou, but damn if it doesn’t feel right.

Seeing her eyes fill up with tears seconds earlier just about broke my heart. Unlike most guys I know, crying girls don’t freak me out, and I don’t do the whole pretend-I-didn’t-see-anything act. Having delt with my sister’s hormonal years growing up, I developed a sixth sense for when people of the opposite sex need comforting. Sounds creepy, I know, but I promise it’s strictly platonic.

For two painful seconds, Lou remains stiff in my arms before folding herself into my embrace. Was I worried she would pull away and march off? Not in the slightest.

I am the world’s greatest hugger and that’s beforeyou take my incredible physique into consideration. Human form of catnip, at your service.

Resting my chin atop Lou’s head, I’m suddenly distracted by the amazing smell coming from her hair. It’s not fruity exactly... I got it. It’s coconut with a touch of vanilla.

Shit. I’ve just found my new favourite scent.

Inhaling Lou’s hair like it’s a line of cocaine, I’m suddenly aware of two perky breasts pressing against my chest. She hasn’t made a move to pull away, but suddenly the lack of space between us is getting a little too comfortable. I loosen my hold and take a couple of steps back, not wanting to ruin the moment with a surprise semi.

See? Strictly platonic.

Lou blinks at me as a pink hue tinges her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, I just... thank you. I really needed that.” The surprise in her eyes when I don’t make a smart-ass comment is enough to make me feel bad.

“Anytime. I mean it. University is a tough time for everyone, don’t let the partying and club memberships fool you.” My words hit their mark and Lou visibly relaxes, dropping her shoulders and nodding slowly.

“You seem to be doing okay. With adjusting, I mean. I’ve never seen you as anything other than ridiculously confident.”

I smile, beckoning her closer. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Trip. Wait, is it okay if we keep the nickname?” When in doubt, always go for the consent route. In my experience, 98% of the time it actually increases your chances of success.

Hey, consent is sexy. You heard it here first.

With an eyeroll, Trip nods her approval and adds another tally to my consensual scoreboard.

“Alright, I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Trip. You can be whoever you want to be.” I say the last part slowly, allowing time for digestion.

“I know that. That’s why we’re all here. To study, graduate with a degree, then go on and pursue whatever we want to do.” I shake my head, remaining patient with my padawan.

“Listen carefully. Here, at Taber University, you can be whoever you want to be. You can be Lou, you can be Trip, you can be any version of yourself you can imagine. Think of it as a clean slate; no one knows you, and no one knows who you used to be. Each and every one of us are at Taber to figure out who we want to be, and that’s why most people go buck wild their first year. Because they want to try new things, they want to test the limit to see what works and what doesn’t. Basically, the next four years are a test drive to figure out what person you want to be moving forward.” Fuck. Someone call me Hamlet because if that wasn’t a glorious monologue, I don’t know what is.

Lou chews on her bottom lip, undoubtedly overwhelmed by my display of philosophical wisdom. I would make a fantastic Jedi.

“I’ve never thought of it that way, but you’re right.” I tilt my head, giving her a look of complete innocence.

“Sorry, I missed that last part. Would you mind repeating that?”

Lou smirks, “Nice try, Wes.”

Note to self: the innocent face needs some work.