“Who shit in your cereal?” I ask, smirking as I take a lazy sip of my beer.
He glares and shakes his head. “Fucking teammates are having a party.”
I chuckle, eyeing him over the rim of my bottle. Hughie’s not exactly what you’d callsocial. Honestly, he doesn’t really like people at all. But right now, he looks downright homicidal with his jaw ticking and his eyes scrunched up in frustration.
And his outfit? Straight out ofGrease. He has on a leather jacket, white t-shirt, tight-ass jeans, and black biker boots. His dark brown hair is slicked back and still damp from the shower, making him look like a pissed-off extra from a 50s movie.
“Since when do you avoid parties with your favorite people?” I tease.
He groans. “They fucking posted a video of Mack having a threesome on the goddamn couch.”
I grimace. “Yikes.”
That’s... bad. I mean, I’m all for sexual freedom, do your thing, but NHL hopefuls don’t usually post their sexcapades unless they’re trying to tank their careers.
“Yeah, fucking yikes,” he mutters, lacing his boots like he’s gearing up for war and not an out of hand college party. “Now I’ve gotta go cock block the guy and shut down a party I didn’t even want to know about, let alone attend.”
“You need help?” I offer, mostly out of obligation. I’m really hoping he says no. The last thing I want is to walk into that shitshow. And I definitely don’t want to see Mack’s dick.
Nothing against dick. I occasionally make out with people who have them. But Mack? Mack is a manwhore and a complete idiot. Herding him at a party sounds like actual hell, and I don’t envy Hughie one bit.
“No,” Hugh sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m kinda hoping Griff or Terry are around to help out.”
I nod. His Captain and Alternate. Honestly, if either of them are there, this should be their mess to clean up, not Hughie’s. He’s not the team babysitter.
But because he’s dependable, and maybe because he actually gives a shit, he always ends up being the one to put out everyone else’s fires.
And yeah, that pisses me off more than a little. Not that I would ever admit that shit out loud. But that team spends a lot of time using him to get out of issues without actually inviting him to hang out. Which is really fucked because Hugh might be one of the best people I know.
He stands to leave, and I call out, “How many views on that video?”
He grumbles something under his breath, grabs his keys, and slams the door behind him.
I’m pretty sure he said,too many.
2
Griffin
Senior yearof college is starting off with a fucking bang.
And I mean several bangs, technically.
My roommates, who also happen to be my teammates, decided we absolutely needed to kick things off with a massive party before the school year starts.
The result? Our house is now a fucking zoo.
There are bodies everywhere: on the floor, spilling out of doorways, making questionable decisions in various corners. I swear, this place is one bad life choice away from being a crime scene.
Normally, I live for this shit. I thrive on watching people embarrass themselves for my amusement. Hell, sometimes I can even convince my girlfriend to make out with me in questionable positions with a captive audience.
But tonight? Tonight, I'm not the drunk asshole for once, which means I'm stuck playing babysitter to my teammates’ ridiculous antics.
Take Mack, for example.
Mackenzie Wallace, son of a goddamn U.S. senator and future NHL hopeful, is currently sprawled out on the reclinerin the living room. A blonde in a crop top is perched on the armrest, aggressively making out with him like she’s trying to inhale his soul. Meanwhile, a second girl, a brunette, is kneeling between his legs and not-so-subtly giving him the sloppiest blowjob I’ve ever seen.
Jesus Christ, Mack.
