Page 44 of Icing on the Cake

I shuffle into the room, and a wave of snickers and giggles washes over the team as all eyes turn toward me. “What’s so funny?”

“G, you, uh…gotdroolon your cheek.” Oliver gestures to his own with his index finger. But it’s the way he emphasizes the word “drool” that causes my stomach to clench.

Suddenly, my mind flashes back to my room. The opened tube of lube. Barry’s toothy grin.Oh, god.

Turning on my heel, I book it to the bathroom at the end of the hall and don’t return until my face has been thoroughly scrubbed.

I plop down on the couch next to Drew, who’s biting his knuckle to keep from laughing out loud. I glare at him, but all I get back is an innocent shrug.

Oliver stands and clears his throat. “Alright, now that Gerard’s back, let’s get started.” The room quiets down, though a few guys continue chuckling softly. “First order of business: groceries.”

Every week, we pool our money and send someone to stock up on essentials—mostly protein powder, eggs, and enough pasta to feed an army. It’s a thankless task.

“I’ll go.” I raise my hand, and the team stares at me in surprise. Usually, we have to draw straws for this kind of thing.

“Are you sure?” Oliver asks. “You don’t?—”

“I’m sure.” Anything to get me out of this room and away from whatever stupid thing everyone is laughing about.

Oliver nods slowly. “Alright. Gerard’s got groceries this week.”

I sink into the couch and close my eyes. Maybe if I pretend hard enough, I can will myself back to bed.

“Next,” Oliver continues, “the Halloween party.”

My eyes snap open. The Hockey House Halloween party is legendary—bigger than homecoming, bigger than Spring Fling. We’ve been throwing it for thirty years straight, and alumni still talk about their favorite parties from back in the day.

This year will be my third as a resident of the Hockey House. And if history is any indication, it will beepic. Not that I have any idea how we’re going to top last year’s Haunted Rink theme or the Zombie Apocalypse from two years ago.

“We need ideas,” Oliver says.

Suddenly, a slew of hands fly up into the air, my own included.

Oliver points to Nathan first. Nathan’s still in that eager-to-please phase where he thinks the older guys give a crap about his opinions. It’s cute.

“We should do a superhero theme!” Nathan bounces in his seat as he talks. “Everyone could dress up as their favorite hero or villain, and we could have a costume contest and?—”

“Lame,” Drew interrupts. “They did that five years ago.”

Nathan’s face falls, and I feel bad forthe kid. “It’s not a bad idea, Nathan. Maybe the team can do that again in another couple of years.”

Drew leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “How about an orgy theme? Everyone comes in bedsheets with holes cut out for easy access. But privates are still covered for the prudes.”

The room erupts in hoots and hollers, and I roll my eyes. As ridiculous as Drew is, he sure knows how to play to his audience.

Oliver grimaces, mirroring my thoughts. “Orgy sounds like every other party we throw. Let’s keep it PG—for now.”

Kyle Graham raises his hand. “What about a toga party? It’s similar to the orgy idea but more traditional. Plus, we wouldn’t have to spend money on costumes.”

“Togas are so last century,” says someone from the back. I think it’s Jordan, but I’m not sure.

Oliver points at me. “Gerard, you had an idea?”

“Wait!” Alex Donovan cuts in, and the whole room goes silent. He rarely speaks during these meetings. “What if we did a retro theme? Say an ’80s or ’90s night? People could dress up in old-school stuff, and you could make a playlist with classic hits.”

Oliver glances around the room, gauging the team’s reactions. Most of the guys are on board, though a few have already checked out of the party planning and are scrolling through social media on their phones.

I clear my throat. “Or we could keep the music on a theme but let everyone dress up as whatever they want.”

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