16. Van

16

Van

I t's ass o'clock in the morning and I wake up with a start. My room is dark, and my phone says it's 6:12 a.m. I don't have class until noon, and I like to hit up the gym for conditioning, but I've got hours until I need to be there.

Closing my eyes, I roll back onto my side, hitching the covers up around my shoulders. I'm willing myself to sleep when I hear a noise again. What the hell? It sounds like cats dying or mating or some shit. Mikalski's got a cat that he thinks the rest of us don't know about, but there's only one. Oh, fuck. I hope there's only one.

The scream-cry continues, so I climb out of bed and throw on some sweats before shuffling out into the hallway. Santos is halfway down the steps, so I take them two at a time to catch up.

"What the hell are they doing down there?"

"I'm kind of afraid to look," he answers, scratching at his chest. "Damn, it's early."

"Get used to it, buddy," I joke, clapping him on the shoulder. "This time next year, you'll be heading out the door to do your student teaching every morning."

Pete just smiles. It's wild. He's actually looking forward to starting a day job—and one that requires him to be surrounded by middle-schoolers. My best friend is a brave man.

The cry sounds again and I realize our teammates are howling like wolves. At six a.m.

"Jesus, stop the wailing. My ears are gonna bleed," Santos says, shaking his head and making his way toward the kitchen. I follow him because if I have to be up this early, I'm gonna need caffeine.

"Wait!" Mikalski shouts, sliding in front of us and blocking the entryway. "You guys can't go in there yet."

"Fucking hell," I mutter. "If you guys broke the fridge, we're gonna punch your throats so hard you'll never howl again."

"Van," Ollie scolds. "There is no need to threaten violence. We have not broken anything. In fact, we did a little…art project. And we want you guys to see it."

Mikalski's practically bouncing on his toes and Deano's looking pretty proud of himself.

"Art project?" Santos asks. "What the hell did you guys do?"

"It's fucking awesome, if I do say so myself. But wait, Mickey's right," Ollie says. "You guys can't go in yet. Deano, is it dry?"

Good Lord, I'm trying to imagine what they did to the kitchen and everything I come up with is awful. Santos must be thinking the same thing because I can tell he's about two seconds away from picking Ollie up and moving him away from the door. And Ollie's not a small guy.

"Remember what you said the other week, about how this is our year?" Mickey asks. "Well, you're right. It is. So, Ollie and I were talking last night and we thought maybe we needed to visualize it? You know, like all that manifestation stuff? So, Deano raided his girlfriend's art supply stash and we stayed up all night?—"

"Do I smell paint? Dammit. Tell me you did not paint some motivational quotes on the wall." Pete's shaking his head, like he can't believe he's basically in charge of this crew.

Deano walks back in and gives the thumbs-up. "It's all good. And it looks fucking badass. You were right, Mickey, the glitter was the perfect touch."

"Glitter is never the perfect touch," I say. I don't know shit about art or painting or any of that, but I know that glitter is never the answer.

"Fuck yes, it is. Wait until you see it. And you have to like it, Santos," Ollie says, "because you basically inspired us. You know how back in school, when you were raising money for a charity or trying to get the whole school to read like a thousand books or whatever? There was always a poster with a thermometer on it, right? And every time you got closer to your goal, you colored in a section, you with me?"

"Yeah," I say, afraid of where this is going.

"So, we made a thermometer. For the season. Every time we win a game, we'll paint another section. And it's in the kitchen so everyone will see it. It's motivational." Ollie's as hyped up as Mikalski.

"I swear to god," Santos says, looking at each of the guys, "if you painted a giant thermometer on the wall, I will fucking?—"

"Not on the wall," Mikalski corrects, stepping aside to let us through. We walk into the kitchen, and thankfully, the walls are bare. "We painted it on the floor, that way no one can miss it."

"Yeah, it's like a yellow brick road. Except it's burgundy and silver. And…not a road," Deano says.

I look down at my feet and sure enough, there's a huge thermometer on the scarred hardwood. There's glitter everywhere, and the wolf logo they painted looks like a damn demon.

"What the hell is that?" I laugh. "Is Satan now our biggest fan?" His face is all red and his ears look like horns—giant, glittery horns.

Ollie's not joking around. "Hey, that's Willie T. Wolf you're talking about. Put some damn respect on his name."

"If you wanted to show him some respect," Santos says, "maybe you shouldn't have painted him on the goddamn floor. What is wrong with you people?"

"Woah, what the hell? You really don't like it?" Deano asks, sounding pretty hurt.

Santos just stands there shaking his head and I'm trying not to laugh because this place is fucking nuts. Just when I think Ollie and Santos might come to blows over the, um, art project, the back door opens and we all watch Norris sneak in.

"Jesus!" he curses, clearly shocked to see us all standing in the kitchen before seven a.m. I know where he's been spending most of his nights—and who he's been spending them with—but I've been sworn to secrecy. He looks around the room, then down at the ground. "Holy shit. Who painted a giant dick on the floor?"

"It's not a dick," Ollie says loudly, but as we all stare at it, I bust up laughing again. Norris is right. This is no thermometer.It's a giant burgundy cock with glitter shooting out the top.

"Are the balls twin devils?" Norris asks me.

"Nah, that's our mascot, Willie T. Wolf," I explain.

Our goalie squints his eyes and turns to the side. "Oh, yeah, I see it now. It's a massive jizzing dick and our mascot is the ball sack. Nice. I'm going to bed."

Norris walks up the stairs, Ollie and Santos argue about the floor, and I laugh to myself. I'm excited about the future. I can't wait to get picked up by a team and work my way up the ranks. But I'm going to miss the hell out of these guys next year.

"Tell me again why we have to go out tonight?" I whine as I lie on my best friend's bedroom floor doing crunches.

"Ollie's pissed at me for not appreciating the guys' ‘artwork' this morning. I told him I might have handled it better if it hadn't been six o'clock in the damn morning, or if any of them had a shred of artistic ability. That was the wrong answer, so we're all going out. It's a team-bonding thing," Santos says, dumping half a basket of clean laundry on his bed and riffling through it.

"Team-bonding, huh? Is Coach coming on our little field trip? I mean, he's the leader of the team, so…"

Santos tosses the remaining laundry on my head. "Of course not, asshole. But that's also why there's a two drink/two-hour max. I need everybody back here by midnight, tucked in their goddamned beds so they are fresh as fucking daisies for class tomorrow."

I peel one of his t-shirts off myself and toss it onto the bed. "Two hours is more than enough for me. I've got reading to finish up for Friday, but the narrator's voice is so boring I wanna cut my own ears off."

"Jesus. Thank god the knives are still missing."

I crack a smile. "Not anymore. I found them a couple weeks ago. They're in the crisper."

Pete just stares at me. "The crisper? Like the drawer where you keep vegetables?"

"Yep."

Pete takes a seat and continues folding, while I keep count of my crunches in my head.

"Seriously, Van, if you need to read, just stay in. I'll handle Ollie. Your grades come first, and you've been working your ass off lately."

"Have I? It feels like Josie's doing all the work. She makes these little organizers for me, breaks everything down into chunks. She even reads all the books I'm reading. Besides, this is Wednesday, my one tutoring-free night. I'll bug out early and come back here to read. Deal?"

"That's a solid plan, but are you sure you wanna come out? Five minutes ago, you were bitching about it." Pete holds up the shirt he's been searching for like it's a trophy. It looks like all his other gray t-shirts, but this one must be his favorite, because he yanks off the one he's been wearing, slips this one over his head, then smoothes it down and checks himself in the mirror.

I let out a low whistle and he flips me off. He's probably right. I should take the offered out and hang back tonight. I could listen to my book and dictate some notes. But you know what? No. I want to feel like myself again. And Josie has obviously moved on and wants nothing to do with me except what the school requires her to, so why shouldn't I have fun? Hell, I was having a good time at Wolfie's with her the other night, even though I was basically spilling my guts. And what did she do? As soon as anyone even hinted that we were back together, she ran out of the bar as fast as she could.

"Nope. I'm gonna have fun tonight. Let off some steam, dance a little. Hell, I haven't hooked up in way too fucking long. It's gonna be a great fucking night, Santos. You with me?"

My best friend knows me too well. He sees past the bullshit I'm telling myself, but doesn't call me on it.

"Am I with you? Where the hell else would I be?"

An hour later, I'm nursing my second lukewarm beer and wondering when I can get the hell out of here. This used to be my scene, my fucking life source.

It's not a bad party. It's packed, but that's a good sign. The guys are having fun, and the LAX house is way nicer than ours. I can go upstairs without having to skip the steps that are rotting out, so that's kinda nice.

"You want a margarita?" Ollie practically shouts in my ear. "The beer tastes like piss, so I brought my own provisions." He opens up a backpack that's basically a minibar. It's cool as shit, I've got to admit, but I'm not feeling tequila right now.

I shake my head and Ollie looks at me. "Van? You still in there? What the hell happened to you? You used to be up for anything, now you're all mopey and shit. And you're always at the library. Dude, no one needs to study that much."

His words don't hurt, but that's just because I know he doesn't really mean them. Santos is the only person on this campus who knows just how hard school is for me, and there's a reason for that. I want to be known as the guy who comes in clutch, the one you rely on when the clock is running down and the other team's got the upper hand. I don't want my team to know me as anything other than totally capable.

"I'm here, right?" I laugh. "That's gotta count for something."

Ollie just shakes his head. "That counts for shit. But you can make it up to me. Wanna know how?"

Jesus. I have a feeling I'm going to be adding to the cock-and-balls mural on our kitchen floor. "Anything you need, Olls. What'll it be?"

"See those hot girls over there?"

There must be a hundred women in this room. And they are all hot. None of them are half as hot as—nope. I'm shutting that shit down right now. "Yeah, Olls," I say. "I see them."

"Let's dance with them. But if you want to hook up, you take the blondes, ok?"

I shoot my friend a look. "You allergic to blondes all the sudden?"

"Something like that," Ollie grumbles before making his way across the room and holding an arm out for each of the brunettes.

That's when it dawns on me. Booker's sister, Fallon, is blonde, and Ollie's been crushing on her for years, and Book's always been quick to shut it down. I don't know if shit went down between them or what. I just know that three pretty blondes are staring at me like I'm the answer to their prayers.

I join them and right on cue, the bass starts pumping. I'm moving my body in time with the rhythm of the music, one hand on the shortest girl's shoulder in front of me. The tallest girl is behind me, grinding her body into mine. The medium-sized girl cages us all in as she trails her fingers up and down the thin fabric of my t-shirt.

She's getting handsy as the song changes over. The beat's a little slower, but she's not deterred.

"You're Van, right?" she asks. "I'm Kya, and these are my friends Amber and Kirsten." The other two girls giggle, but Kya's not paying any attention to them. She's looking at me and making breakfast plans for tomorrow morning. This girl is totally down to fuck, and she's claimed me as her prize.

It should feel good.

I should be loving my life right now.

I should be looking for an empty room or asking her back to mine.

But none of this feels right.

In fact, it feels wrong.

It feels like I'm cheating on Josie, and I know that makes me sound fucking delusional.

I have no claim on Josie's heart, but mine has been lost to her since the day we met.

I don't expect her to do anything about it. My inability to get over Josie is not her problem.

But I know one thing: I can't stay here.

I untangle myself from the web of blondes and mutter a half-hearted apology before crossing the room and heading for the door. I don't make it far when the guys flag me down.

"I'm heading out," I say before any of them can ask what the hell is wrong with me. "I've got reading due Friday. See you later."

I don't even bother to field their questions or ask if they're having a good time. Everyone at that party is having a good time, except for me.

The fresh air feels good on my face as I leave the party and just start walking. Ten minutes later, I'm standing in front of the library, wondering how the hell I got here. Maybe my feet are so used to coming here that they just pointed me in this direction. Yeah, we'll go with that.

It's Wednesday, so Josie's not working. If she were, I'd be here with her instead of running away from a fucking party.

I shouldn't even be here. I don't have any books with me, not that it would matter. But now that I'm here, I find myself walking through the main reading room and past the front desk to the stairs that will take me to the third floor and the comfy chairs. I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin right now, so maybe I just need to sit my ass down on a fluffy chair and get the hell over her already.

"Van?"

I freeze at the sound of Josie's voice. It's What is she doing here?

Shock must register on my face.

"Sorry if I scared you," she says. "I go home on Wednesdays. Well, you know that already. But everybody in my house has a nasty stomach bug, so I'm staying here until it's dead and gone. I messaged you on WolfChat to see if you felt like studying, but I'm guessing you didn't see it."

"Had my notifications off," I say, lifting my phone up.

She nods and holy shit, this is awkward, and that awkwardness is taking its toll on me. I open my mouth, and nonsense comes out. "I'm here to read a book," I announce. It's a stupid thing to say for a lot of reasons, including the fact that my hands are empty. But that doesn't slow Josie down.

" Road to Redemption , right?" she asks, her eyes bright, like finding people's books brings her a joy she can't find anywhere else.

"Yeah," I say. "Left my copy at the house."

"No problem. I know we have at least one on the shelf," she says, leading the way. I follow her and watch as she plucks the book from the shelf and holds it out. "Silly me. If your copy is at home, you probably don't need to check this out, do you? Where did you leave off?"

"Um…the middle of chapter thirteen. But I should start that one over, because I kept falling asleep."

Josie fakes stabbing herself in the heart. "You fell asleep? But you're almost at the best part."

She's practically dragging me upstairs, or at least, she would be, if I weren't following behind like a lost dog.

She walks right over to the comfy chairs and takes a seat, still clutching the book to her chest.

I take the seat next to hers and stretch my legs out. "So, that chapter starts with him going back to Russia, right?"

She nods and bites her lip.

"It's really that good, huh?" I can't help but crack a smile.

"I used to hate this book," she says, and I shoot her a look that says What the hell ?

"I did. Really. That was before I read all of it, of course. It was my dad's favorite fiction book. Did I ever tell you that?"

I shake my head.

"I asked to borrow his copy and I was about six chapters in when I went storming downstairs and handed it back to him, saying, ‘Every time I think it can't possibly get worse, it does.' My dad was so patient, though. He told me to stick with it, so I did, and it really is one of the best books I've ever read. Where are you in that chapter? I wonder if you've gotten to my favorite line?"

Jesus . She has a favorite line, and I can't follow the audio because the guy's voice puts me to sleep. If I needed a reminder of why my crush on her is doomed, this is it.

She's flipping through the pages, her finger tracing over the words. "I found it!"

"Read it to me," I say, tilting my head back on the comfy cushion. I don't care if she reads the line or the chapter or the whole freaking book. Watching Josie lose her mind over a sentence some guy wrote in a book is somehow way hotter than thinking about the girl who was copping a feel on the dance floor at the LAX house party.

Her voice washes over me and just the sound of it calms my rough edges. I relax, but I don't feel at all like sleeping. The more Josie reads, the more lost I get lost in the story. So lost, in fact, that I bolt upright when she reads the end of chapter fifteen.

"Shut the fuck up. They're brothers ?"

Josie looks up at me with the prettiest smile on her face. "It's a total shock, right?"

I nod, ready for her to keep going. If Anton turns Vasily away now, I'll never fucking forgive him.

Josie turns the page to keep reading, but there's a loud beep over the intercom and then we hear an automated voice announce, "The library is closing in five minutes. I repeat, Friedman Library will close at midnight."

The magic of the moment starts to melt away as we walk downstairs and Josie reshelves the book.

After taking Josie back to her dorm, I head back to my house alone. Some of the guys are playing a video game, so I toss them a wave and make my way upstairs. I shower, brush my teeth, strip, and crawl into bed.

And then I grab my earbuds and find the chapter where we left off. This guy's nasally voice is killing me, but it'll have to do.