Hooked: A Hockey Romance Page 4

  As student athletes, they weren’t allowed to get jobs or accept any kind of financial gifts. Last semester Heath picked up some under the table pay type work and sent the cash back home. The only thing he said about his summer was it was shit because he worked so much, but Tyson considered the possibility he was still caught up in the middle of his family drama from miles and miles away.

  It really made him feel like an ass for making such a big deal about a few bucks for gas when they really were going back and forth to the same places, more or less. Tyson didn’t have a shit ton of money, but his parent’s deposited money in his account ever month. He had enough to pay his bills plus a little extra. He wasn’t a trust fund baby by any means, but his dad was a car’s salesman and his mom was a nurse practitioner. They always had money for lunch and gas and whatever else they wanted.

  Feeling like a piece of shit, Tyson shook his head. “Just buy a twelve pack for tonight and let me bum some drinks off you. I didn’t sleep for shit last night, and I don’t want to go to this stupid class.”

  “Jackie’s hot, but not hot enough to make it worth all this reading,” Heath said, appeased enough with Tyson’s response to shove his twenty back in his wallet. He looked up and waggled his eyebrows. “What was up with you and that dime piece next to you Tuesday? I felt like I was watching a porno.”

  Yeah, him too. Trying his hardest to act nonchalant because the last thing he wanted to do was let Heath know he was obsessed with the girl, he turned and started spraying on his cologne. “There’s nothing going on between us. She’s not my type.”

  “Bullshit,” Heath snorted, calling him out before he could even finish his half-assed statement. “Your type is hot chicks. She’s a hot chick; therefore she’s your type.”

  “Wow, I’m impressed with your deduction skills. Pass Bio with that kind of scientific reasoning?”

  “With flying colors,” Heath grinned. He leaned against the door frame. “You going to invite her tonight? If you don’t, I will.”

  “I’ll ask,” Tyson said, hoping he was giving off the ‘I don’t care’ vibe still. Heath liked to fuck with him. He didn’t put it past him trying to wiggle his way into Layla’s hold, and the last thing he needed was the oaf messing up his shot with her. If it even existed. “Like I said, nothing is happening between us. She’s hot, but she seems like a lot of work. I don’t really need that before the season starts.”

  “You’re too serious, man. It’s not like you need to wife her up.”

  Dragging his bag behind him, Tyson nudged Heath out of his door and started down the hall. He tried brushing him off. “Yeah. Did you hear anything back from Matt about the team coming? With the game this weekend, I wasn’t sure.”

  While Tyson poured half a box of Lucky Charms cereal in a mixing bowl, splashing it with just enough milk to cover the top, he listened to Heath go over the details of their last minute party. Yes, some of the football team was coming. Yes, he talked to the house next door and made sure to invite the guys. Yes, he got ahold of the hookup at the liquor store about getting a keg. Natty Lite, despite Tyson’s protests.

  Heath mixed together his protein shake while he talked. It was probably a better breakfast option than the sugary cereal, but a watery cookies and cream flavored shake didn’t seem as appetizing as a tiny mountain of marshmallows and milk. One of their other roommates, Steven, ambled into the kitchen and went straight to their Keurig.

  He rubbed his palms into his eyes. On a yawn, he said, “Why do you guys always look so fucking chipper in the morning? It’s fucking seven thirty. You’re wearing pants for fuck’s sake.”

  “As impressive as my dick is, the general public doesn’t approve of me walking around without pants,” Tyson grinned, patting Steven on the back.

  “About as impressive as a log of dog shit,” Heath quipped.

  “Fuck off. Some of us don’t have to pack socks down our jeans to make our junk look better.”

  “I’ve never fucking done that. I don’t know how you got it into your head that I did that. Why the fuck would I need to make my dick bigger? You’ve seen it!”

  “I don’t stare at it, man,” Tyson laughed. He recalled one of the first nights he and Heath got shit-face drunk together. He was beyond wasted, but he remembered a story being told about packing for a middle school dance with the utmost clarity. “I swear on my grave you said you packed. Why would I make that up?”

  “You’re an ass, that’s why,” Heath grumbled, shoving his feet into his beat up Nike shoes.

  Steven lifted his mug to his lips, still half asleep. “Why are you guys always talking about dicks?”

  “You say that like you don’t also talk about your dick all the time,” Tyson followed, raising an eyebrow. He grabbed his shoes from their spot on the rug by the back door. “Dicks and whips.”

  “Whatever, man,” He grumbled. When Tyson and Heath went to leave, he lifted his mug and gave a half-hearted, “See you guys later.”

  The drive to campus was mostly quiet, though Heath insisted on hooking his phone up to the auxiliary cord to fill the silence with music. He at least played it at a tolerable volume. It was too damn early for the rap to blow out his eardrums, especially when this was the playlist he’d probably hear all night long at their house.

  After searching for a parking spot for ten goddamn minutes – Jackie wasn’t exaggerating when she said parking was awful on the west side of campus, even before eight am – they rushed from the parking lot to campus. They walked into the classroom right at eight. Unsurprisingly, Jackie wasn’t there. He circled the main lot looking for a spot like a vulture seeking a carcass and didn’t spot her once in his quest.

  “I give her fifteen minutes,” Heath said as they took their seats.

  Pete looked up from his phone. “She’s been averaging ten. Fifteen is a stretch.”

  “Wanna take a bet on it?” Heath grinned toothily.

  “Unlikely.”

  Layla was wearing a shirt that said ‘SUC DADDY’ with some kind of cartoon plant on it and a pair of indecently short shorts. It seemed to be her MO. Long tan legs distracted him. They looked so damn soft, and seeing ‘daddy’ on her shirt planted all sorts of disgusting fantasies in his head. He wasn’t even into that kind of shit, but he would be for Layla. Hell, he was down for anything as long as it involved her naked.

  He tapped a finger on her folder to catch her attention. She barely looked up when they walked into the room, keeping her earbuds in and her eyes on her phone. She looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. Tyson motioned for her to take out her earbuds, and after an eye roll, she did.

  “We’re having a party tonight. You should come.”

  He waited for her to say no. To say that she was busy. It never came. Instead she tilted her head and looked at him for a long second. The fight in her eyes disappeared. He took it as a win. Tyson: 02. Layla: 01. Fuck yeah, he was inching closer to that sweet spot between Layla’s legs.

  “Can I bring someone with me?”

  His smile fell. It only made her cock her eyebrow higher. She almost looked like a cartoon villain, overdrawn and exaggerated. A whole new thorn in his side sprouted. Tyson never considered Layla having a boyfriend. Nobody with a boyfriend rides the inseam of their shorts like they wished it was my face. He needed to get over his fascination with her. He didn’t fuck around with girls with boyfriends, no matter how hot they were.

  “Does your friend have a dick?” Heath asked from the other side of the table, wiggling his way into their conversation. Naturally. At least he was asking the question that was suddenly burning into Tyson’s head.

  “Not one attached to her body, unfortunately. If she did she’d make the best boyfriend.”

  “So you’re telling me you’re both single,” Heath pressed.

  “None of your business,” Layla tossed back, her eyebrow falling while her lips pressed into a thin line.

  He seriously doubted she’d show up at this point. Trying to backpedal and
grab the sliver of hope that yes, she would come wearing a brilliant smile; Tyson leaned towards her and muttered, “It doesn’t matter. You can bring a guy if you want.”

  He got heartburn saying it out loud but he was beyond curious now. If she was attached to someone, fuck it. He’d find someone else to drag up to his room. If she showed up stag, though, she was fair game. Tyson talked a big game up to Heath about not being interested, but she was already working herself so deep under his skin it was fucking with his head. He knew next to nothing about her, but he wanted to fuck her into his mattress over and over again. Maybe if he got a chance to work her through his system he’d be able to focus on something other than coming on her tits.

  Jackie burst into the room, her typical excuses spouting from her mouth like a spigot.

  “Eight minutes,” Peter said under his breath as he tucked his phone away.

  Jackie looked over and scowled at him but she didn’t say anything. She immediately started pulling their syllabus up, going over their plans to spend the first twenty minutes of class workshopping a prompt. At least he wasn’t going to have to listen to the War of Warcraft kids hyper analyze the plot of some short story he barely read.

  Layla scooted her seat closer to Tyson, leaning her head over. She whispered, “Where’s the party?”

  When he turned his head to smile at her because fuck yes, they were back on, he was taken aback with how close their faces were. Her lips were close enough to take. Up close, Tyson noticed her eyes weren’t just brown at all. A kaleidoscope of honey and green twinkled, intricate like glass. Freckles dusted over her tiny nose, barely visible under the slight smear of makeup on her skin. His nose was filled with coconuts. Never in his life had he craved a Pina Colada, but in that moment he was struck with an overwhelming urge for something tropical. He was struck with his urge for Layla.

  “Our place. It’s the only red brick house on Houston Street.”

  Leaning back with her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, she nodded.

  Hook, line, sinker.

  “Write with your pens, not your mouths, please!” Jackie called out, her mouth drawn into a thin line.

  With the eyes of the class on him, Tyson just offered up a shrug. He definitely wasn’t going to apologize for making movement with Layla. At least she didn’t seem too bothered by the attention. Sheepishly muttering a ‘sorry’ before looking down at her paper concentrating hard on the blank lines, Layla’s interests didn’t seem to be on the writing prompt scribbled on the whiteboard.

  Funny, his weren’t either.

  chapter four

  “A shot before we go for some liquid courage!” Emma sang, though her demand came through loud and clear.

  Maybe just loud because she was playing her music at a volume that should’ve had Layla’s neighbors pounding on her door. Even though it was barely past ten it was only a Thursday night. After putting up with listening to her porn star neighbor put on an impressive performance the night before, the building gods owed her a solid.

  Still, Layla turned the volume down. After a second she decided to just shut it off. They were on their way out the door anyway. When she turned back around Emma was waving one of the novelty shot glasses bought at a shitty tourist shop in Florida during spring break last year. The only liquor in her kitchen was a near empty bottle of tequila. After drinking a can of gas station long island iced tea while getting ready the thought of tequila made her cringe.

  It was too early to cringe at the sight of alcohol, though, and this was Emma’s night so she took the little glass shaped like a pair of boobs and tossed it back.

  Yes, for Emma. Not for you, you dirty little slut.

  At first when Tyson mentioned the party Layla brushed it off, mostly because she was trying her best to avoid the fluttering in her ladybits when it came to him. Going over to his place for a party where she’d be drinking and having her inhibitions down was the opposite of avoiding him.

  She thought of Emma, though, and the previous weekend. Missing the one year anniversary of the hell she’d gone through was still messing with Layla’s head. She liked to think of herself as a good friend. Lately she felt like a giant pile of shit in the friend department. Hell, she barely hung out with anyone over summer. It was still early in the semester but she’d only grabbed coffee with one of her friends. The one and only time she went over to Emma’s was for a movie one night, and they both fell asleep halfway through it.

  “Oh God,” Layla cringed, wiping her mouth with the back of her palm after she tossed back the tequila.

  Emma did the same, giggling. “Is my lipstick still good?”

  “You look hot as shit still, don’t worry.”

  A house party didn’t call for cute dresses and heels, but it didn’t mean they had to look like total scrubs. Emma was wearing a cute little black bodysuit with a deep slit that showed off her favorite asset and some high waisted denim shorts with Vans. The shorts displayed Emma’s pride and joy, a tattoo of a T-Rex in a top hat on her thigh. Her blonde hair was tied up in a cute ponytail with some loose strands framing her face. Behind her big clear seventies style glasses her eyes were framed in coal, and her lips were painted fire truck red.

  “Thanks. You’re the best hype woman.” She wiggled the empty tequila bottle in front of her and frowned before tossing it in the trash. “You can’t go anywhere dressed like that and expect me to believe you’re not trying to get ahold of some sweet hockey player ass.”

  “What happened your unwavering feminism? I dress cute for myself,” Layla defended. Probably a bit too much, to be honest, because Emma started cracking up.

  Her wardrobe was a thing of pride for Layla. She loved shopping. Maybe she didn’t always go for the super girly stuff. Sometimes she did. Sometimes she spent hours hitting up all the vintage shops trying to find the right piece. Some of her favorite memories in high school involved driving up to Lakewood and combing through all the consignment stores.

  With that being said, she had put a little extra effort into her wardrobe for the evening. She picked out a black ribbed knit crop top and a pair of shorts so short her brother would burn them if he ever got his hands on them. They were the kind that flashed ass cheek if she bent over. AKA the best shorts in existence. Like Emma, she was wearing her favorite pair of Vans. She decided to keep her hair down, letting it fall naturally just past her shoulders. After drawing a wing so sharp she could kill a man and putting on a nude lip with just enough highlighter to make her skin look gorgeous and dewy, she was satisfied with her look for the night. A red plaid flannel around her waist would’ve tied everything together, but late August nights were just as hot as days. It wasn’t worth it, no matter how cute she’d look.

  “I know you do. Doesn’t mean you’re also not trying to catch the attention of someone. I can’t believe you were keeping him a secret from me. Two weeks! What kind of friend are you?”

  “I wasn’t holding out. Believe me, if I was getting any action from anyone you’d be the first person I’d tell. Honestly. Tyson just sits next to me in class and he mentioned this party. I thought you’d have a good time.”

  It was the truth. Mostly. The only action Layla was getting from Tyson was in her head. Thinking about getting desperate enough for an orgasm to sneak off to the bathroom during class almost made her blush. Too bad the memory was just hot enough to give her butterflies instead of filling her with embarrassment. After two weeks she was still fantasizing about him, and as much as she wanted see if the real thing lived up to her dreams she wasn’t going to risk it.

  Earlier when Layla spilled the proverbial beans about Tyson Emma counteracted every reason on her big fat list of ‘nopes’ when it came to him. Layla wasn’t looking for a quick fling, despite her lonely vagina. Senior year was about setting goals and crushing them. Dating didn’t fit into that plan. Plus, why waste time when she was moving out of state as soon as she had her degree in her hand? As hot as Tyson was, he wasn’t worth the little free time she had. Do
n’t forget funny. Her brain was a goddamn traitor. After their free writing in class they had to swap stories to do a peer review, and Layla had to admit for someone who seemed to have zero interest in literature he was pretty good at telling a story. At one point she found herself biting her lip to keep from laughing.

  “I want you to have a good time, too,” Emma said, her mood turning in a flash. Gone was her smile and in its place was a pensive look that made Layla a little uneasy. “I know I’ve been needy lately –”

  “You have not.”

  “But,” Emma said forcefully, cocking her eyebrows. “I’m feeling so much better. I’m ready to tackle this year. We’re supposed to be having fun. After this year I’ll be in grad school and you’ll be God knows where. I don’t want to spend the last year I have with my best friend cooped up inside.”

  “You make it sound like I’m dying.”

  “Dying. Potentially moving across the country. Same thing, really.”

  Layla rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t be mad at Emma. She was voicing the little fears Layla did her best to keep locked away under the ruse of being an adult and growing up. “I’m trying, okay? This semester is crazy busy for me.”

  “Which is cool because you’re a badass, but don’t think I’m going to sit on the sidelines and let you forget to have fun now and then. And tonight is definitely one of those times to have fun.”

  “Well fuck it, what are we waiting for?” Layla challenged. She was unable to contain the smile that took over her face.

  Emma let out a little hoot, drawing a circle in the air with her finger. “Autobots, roll out!”

  Even without Tyson’s description of his place they would’ve been able to find the house. It was the only red brick house on the street, sure, but it was also the only house playing music loudly with bodies milling around the front yard and voices coming from the fenced in yard. Houston Street was only a few blocks from Layla’s apartment complex, so they decided to walk. The closer they got to the noise, the more anxious Layla felt. Even the slight buzz in her veins didn’t help calm her down.