Page 88 of Blocked Score

“Remember when Hudson first transferred in and he was an asshole?” Rhys says, directing a sly grin at the grumpy goalie.

“Hmm, remember when Hudson was an asshole?” Tuck ponders, rubbing his chin. “Yeah, I can remember yesterday.”

Hudson holds up his middle finger at his improbable best friend, who just smiles.

Carter nods to Sebastian. “Remember when you had to fork over two hundred dollars for that bet we made?”

“What bet?” Jamie asks.

Sebastian gives Rhys a sidelong glance. “I bet Carter that Rhys and Maddie would get together before New Year’s last year, but this slow-moving doofus was too stupid to get his ass in gear and cost me.”

“You guys are making bets about my love life now?” Rhys asks.

“Yes, and it taught me a valuable lesson about giving people the benefit of the doubt when it comes to understanding their own hearts,” Sebastian barbs.

Jamie hoots a laugh. “Oh man, look who’s talking.”

Sebastian narrows his gaze at Jamie. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jamie just wiggles his eyebrows in response, the group of us sharing a knowing moment.

Sebastian takes a draw of his beer. “Remember the last time Jamie got laid?” He pauses a beat. “Oh, wait.”

Jamie rolls his eyes and directs his middle finger at Sebastian.

I’m definitely drunk. If I weren’t, this idea would never pop into my head.

But as a wistful feeling wraps through me, walking down memory lane with these guys who have become like family to me, and knowing that this is all going to end in just a week and a half, and that two months from now we’ll all be graduated and going our separate ways …

“We should get tattoos,” I blurt out.

The eyes of all the guys turn to me.

“Huh?” Carter asks.

“Yeah, we should all get a tattoo. Like, of a black bear. On our shoulders or something,” I say, feeling the tipsiness flood to my head.

I wouldn’t be surprised if my teammates dismiss my drunken idea, and maybe it would be best if they did, but …

Hudson pats his shoulder. “I’m sure I can find some space on here to fit one.”

Rhys says, “I’m always down for another.”

Not surprising from those two ink freaks, but then Sebastian chimes in, “Break my tattoo cherry? Fuck it. Why not? This team’s worth it.”

“Damn right,” Tuck echoes.

“I’m down,” Carter declares.

A shadow of doubt passes on Jamie’s expression—he hasn’t actually drunk tonight despite his fake ID, sticking to sodas as usual—but then he shakes his head and says, “What the hell? I’m in, too.”

Hopped up on adrenaline, alcohol, and comradery, we march to the local tattoo shop that probably makes its living on groups of college students getting spur-of-the-moment tattoos decided on over way too many drinks.

A little while later, we all have sore left shoulders as the Brumehill Black Bears logo is permanently inked on them.

Rhys and Hudson, tattoo veterans, are laughing at how the rest of us winced in the chair while the artists worked on us as we file out of the parlor.

Jamie, Carter, and Hudson go their separate ways back to their houses while the rest of us continue home. When we get there, instead of falling face-first into my bed, I knock gently on Scarlett’s door. It’s late, so I don’t want to wake her if she’s asleep.

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