I've never seen this man in my life before.
His face falls, and if he hadn't slapped me in the face with his dick earlier, I might feel sorry for him.
Cameras are flashing, and I have no doubt someone is recording this.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Oh.”
Red flag.
My instincts kick in, and I take a slow step back, not wanting to antagonize the guy.
His face contorts, and he laughs at himself. “I’m brutally fucking this up, aren’t I?”
I take another subtle step away from this man, because he’s starting to sound a little unhinged and desperate.
“Um.”
He throws his hand up and steps toward me. I obviously move back. “Look, I’m not trying to be creepy,” he says, voice quieter now. “I just… I saw you in class and wanted to meet you.”
“Laura?” my roommate Lyss calls out, skidding to a stop when she sees me. Her eyes scan my soaked body, and I’m jealous. She looks perfect. Blonde, perfectly braided hair with a pretty pink paisley dress. How I wish I looked so well-put-together. “What’s going on? You’re soaking wet.”
“Oh,amI?” I deadpan, holding the book closer to my chest.
From beside me, the guy, still tragically glove-clad, gestures toward the cluster of half-naked chaos. “Uh, my friend Dash has towels,” he says to Lyss. “He’s over there somewhere.”
Lyss looks between the two of us. “Okay… yeah. Cool. Towels. I’ll be right back,” she says, giving me a “what the actual hell” look before jogging toward the sea of athletic butts.
I stare at him, lips parting slightly. He’s so earnest that it takes me a second to process.
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Are you really going to pretend you don’t know who this stud muffin is?” Neanderthal One butts in, wading through the water with a towel around his waist and a crown on his head.
“Multimillionaire father, contract with the Toronto Tridents already lined up. Oh, and guest appearances on the top-rated reality show in the country.” He wraps his arm around the other guy, pulling him into his side. “Tell me, Scotty, do you think it’s cute when people pretend they have no idea who you are?”
Scotty?I’ve never heard that name in my life, but as I study the guy’s face, I try to think if there’s anything remotely recognizable about him.
There isn’t.
“Okay, so I met a really nice guy named Dash. He apologized profusely and offered you his dorm to change. Not that you have anything to change into, but he gave me a couple of towels and a granola bar. He also said he’d get you tickets for the next hockey game if you wanted them.”
“Oh, would you look at Dash? Out here skating the assist like he’s trying to steal my spot on the right wing.” Neanderthal One snorts before I get a word in. “It's cute. But let’s be real, he’s more of a human traffic cone than a playmaker.”
“I’m not sure what any of that means,” I say, too exhausted to be polite, and it’s only eight a.m. “But I think I’ve met my daily quota of naked men.”
Neanderthal Two just grins like we’re old friends. “You sure? Scotty’s got at least one more assist left in him. Maybe two if you play your cards right.”
I don’t even reply to that one. I just look over at Scotty—who, unlike his not-so-charming teammate, seems a lot less sure of himself now.
When Lyss wraps the towel over my shoulders, I clutch onto it, like it’s the only thing holding my sanity together. She grabs my hips and gently guides me toward the edge of the fountain.
“Come on,” Lyss says. “Let’s get you out of the water and less wet.”
“Bold of either of you to assume anyone gets less wet when I’m around.”
“Erik!” Scotty yells, glaring at his friend. Ah, so he has a name. I’ll remember it when I try to avoid him.
