“Locals?” Henrik asked.
“Yeah, they’re more fun,” Lincoln explained with a grin.
“You guys are having a party…tonight? It’s a Sunday,” I said as I scanned the room. How much damage would a party set this place back? Just yesterday, I got the kitchen floor literally sparkling—Henrik took photos and everything. But after tonight, I’d probably be scrubbing Cheeto dust out of the couch cushions into next week.
“What’s wrong with Sunday?” Lincoln asked.
I shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just, no one wants to wake up hungover and have to sit through a two-hour lecture.”
“Well, that’s why I’ve invited mostly locals.” Lincoln beamed like he’d fixed the problem easily. “And the rest of the hockey team, of course. Because they’re not complainers…unlike present company.” His gaze landed on Sam, who rolled his eyes in response.
I laughed. “Okay, well, I’m sure non-students don’t want to roll out of bed and into their nine to five hungover either. Everyone has a version of Monday responsibility.”
“Agreed,” Sam said around a yawn as he stretched out. “And why do you keep saying locals like they’re some mystic beings? You just went down to the bar and told that hot server to bring her roommates, didn’t you?”
“Why are you guys acting like this isn’t a thing we all can enjoy?” Lincoln asked. “We go through the same thing every year. Except this year,we’rein charge of keeping the tradition strong. Go Mendell Hawks and all that shit.”
“And all that shit, yes,” Henrik teased.
Lincoln didn’t seem phased at the exorbitant lack of enthusiasm in the room. He was still smiling from ear to ear with excitement. I commended him for it and would’ve joined in if I didn’t have skin in the game.
“Guys, I promise you, it’s going to be great. We have a fucking pool. A beautiful maid…” Lincoln’s voice faded when I gave him a look. He quickly corrected himself. “Who’s going to act as our guest of honor, of course. No serving drinks unless she wants to.”
I pretended to think about it. “Hmm. Yeah, I don’t want to.”
Lincoln held up his hands. “Fair enough. I’ll serve drinks.”
“What does the guest of honor get?” I probed.
“Honor?” Lincoln shrugged. “What else is there?”
Sam scoffed. “We’re giving him shit because we’re tired, but the party will actually be fun, Naomi. Beginning of season parties are a Mendell tradition. You should stick around. We promise to give you more than honor.”
“Lincoln streaked last year. So, you might get your retinas burned out.” Henrik sighed at the memory. “But, other than that, the company was decent. The rest of the guys on the team are more well-behaved than these geniuses.”
“It was a truth or dare,” Lincoln defended. “Everyone knows truth is for cowards. I’m no coward.”
Sam pointed at him. “Remember that later. You guys heard that, right?”
Henrik wore a mischievous grin. “I won’t forget it.”
I smiled, warming up a little to the idea of seeing these guys let loose. I believed that to really know a person, you had to see them drunk. Which is why I turned to Finn, ready to ask if he’d be joining. I could tell by the pained look on his face the answer would be a no.
“You’re not coming?" I asked, trying to keep my voice low so the guys wouldn’t overhear. Lincoln had ears like a hawk, though.
“What? Of course, he’s coming.” Lincoln threw his arm over Finn’s shoulders. “He’s guest of honor number two. The main reason I volunteered to host the first party of the semester. We’re celebrating his recovery.”
Finn shook his head but didn’t protest out loud.
“Recovery?” My interest was piqued. “From what?”
Lincoln looked at Finn like he wanted permission. Finn didn’t protest him sharing the information.
“He got in a pretty rough fight last year,” Lincoln explained, sobering a little. “Was in the hospital for a while. But now he’s back. Ready to reclaim his spot at the top, right?”
Finn nodded and made a small noise of affirmation. I raised a brow, surprised. I opened my mouth to question, but Lincoln was over the sidebar. He wanted us to get into action.
“Sam, you’re on pool duty. The cold will help you stay awake,” Lincoln directed.
