Page 55 of Arctic Titans of Northwood U: Volume 1

He added a little more pressure and bit my ear for a short moment. “I’d have you anywhere, my love.”

“Lizzy’s waiting,” I reminded him.

“Is that supposed to be a turn-off?” he joked.

I laughed and spun away from him, then pulled him in for a kiss. This was it. This was the house we would live in. This was the home we would make. And he was the only person on this entire planet I would ever want to do that with.

I kissed him without mercy or pause. I kissed him like it was the last chance I had.

And he kissed me back with equal passion.

I found myself holding the lapels of his jacket like the winds would take me away if I let go. He was the monolith of safety in my life and in times of change. Together, we embarked on this wild journey and together we could make it.

Cameron pulled back and looked into my eyes, fire blazing in those loving chestnuts and a smirk stretching his lips. We didn’t need words when we slowly nodded to one another.

This was the one we would buy.

And today was the first day of the rest of our lives.

SCORING THE KEEPER

Chapter One

SAWYER

Fuck physics.

I sneered at the faculty building as I passed it, then pulled my coat closer around my body. It swallowed me whole, but I didn’t mind the warmth it provided against the chilly January winds. The building was just another Gothic, brick-and-mortar monstrosity that looked eerie as fuck on a winter evening. The orange lights beaming from the recessed ground fixtures made the walls glow and didn’t help much in making it look any friendlier.

Professor Wallaby made it less friendly still.

She was the bane of my hockey career. Or would be soon. Her golden curls, that defied the laws of the physics she droned on and on about, remained still and high despite the elements. Her red-framed glasses perched on the tip of her nose and accented the murder glare she could shoot over the upper frame. All because I thought Heisenberg was that guy from Breaking Bad. How the hell was I supposed to know some random scientist was the inspiration behind the pseudonym? They never said that in the show.

Alright. So I was dumb. But it wasn’t like I planned on teaching physics when Wallaby retired. Which, admittedly, was going to be never anyway. The story went, she couldn’t stand her husband’s endless lectures on English literature day in and day out, so she remained a full time professor well into her retirement years.

All I needed was a passing grade. And yet, after spending an entire afternoon in the library, I was no closer to it than I had been three months ago. So I made my way through crusty snow back to the neo-colonial house that my team called our home.

Northwood’s campus was a massive plot of land that pretty much declared independence. It was never quiet. Students milled about every which way I looked. And unless they were looking to go clubbing all night, nobody needed to leave the premises. Ever. In its inner ring was the student center with every possible amenity one could need. Reading rooms, coworking spaces, a library, a bookstore, cafes, restaurants, bars, and a twenty-four-seven gym all nestled in the center. And around it, occupying space in every direction, were faculty buildings and administration facilities. Beyond those, there were sports facilities for Northwood’s greatest point of pride, the Arctic Titans, as well as the clumsy baseball bat swingers and the football giants. An Olympic pool was the outermost building in the athletic sector. On the opposite end were sprawling dormitories, fraternity and sorority houses, and team houses, such as ours.

It felt like coming home, especially when I stomped my feet at the door to rid myself of the snow on my Doc Martens and entered the warm common room on the ground floor. I made my way straight to the basement where the real common room was. I didn’t bother pulling my earbuds out. Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine played at maximum volume, drowning out everything else. The basement was fairly empty with all the parties on campus keeping the frat bros warm and occupied. Riley and Cameron were on the far sofa, playing their nerdy game, and Sebastian and Avery were rocking the soccer table in a fierce battle.

I nodded at them all when heads turned and greetings were said. My anger was such that speaking at all risked me lashing out and I reined that in as much as I could. Instead, I marched to the fridge and grabbed a can of beer, then plopped down into an armchair far from anyone else for a few moments of venting. My playlist moved on and AC/DC’s Back in Black filled my skull with its good old-fashioned hard rock.

I sipped my beer and closed my eyes until a hand touched my shoulder. I looked up.

Avery stood still, waiting. His eyebrows were in a flat line over his gray eyes, his lips pressed together appeared even sharper than they naturally were.

I pulled one earbud out and held it two inches away from my ear. The song was nearing the best part. “Huh?”

“Who do I need to kick in the balls?” he asked.

“That crone Wallaby,” I muttered.

“Tsk.” Avery lowered himself to the very edge of the other armchair, spread his legs wide, and set his elbows on his knees. He shook his head. “That’ll be complicated.”

“You think? Unless you’re flunking biology, you shouldn’t even try going after her balls.” I brought the can to my lips and swigged more beer. It tickled my mouth and left a bitter aftertaste. As if I needed more reasons to snarl.

Avery blinked, which was his equivalent to laughing his ass off. “Have you talked to her?”