Page 94 of Goalkeeper
“Ghosted me.”
“No. I mean, I went up to get towels for you and—”
“And never came back down.”
“Because Zac was in worse shape upstairs than he was downstairs, if you can believe it. Once I got him settled, I came down and couldn’t find you. I felt like such shit. So, I had Vonne get your number so I could call—”
“You were the weird number,” she says, as if she’s putting together a puzzle. “I got a call from an unknown number, but no message later that night. I deleted it. I never thought—”
“I never should have left you cold, wet, and dripping someone else’s vomit off of you in the middle of my kitchen. I mean, yeah, Zac needed help, but there were twenty hockey players at the party. I should have grabbed one of them.”
“It’s fine, really. I was a little salty, but I get it now. You were being a good friend.”
I’m not sure anyone would describe me as a good friend, exactly, and definitely not Zac—we’re not particularly close. I just tried to keep the kid from choking on his own vomit. It’s the same thing anyone would do.
“Listen, I really need to apologize.”
“You don’t,” she reassures me, her small hand resting on my forearm. “I completely understand. Besides, you certainly didn’t owe me anything, except for maybe a towel.” She smiles and I feel it in my bones. There’s something about her that just draws me in. I can’t explain it. People don’t usually affect me this way, but Paige does. “And listen, I know we got a little hot and heavy during Jenga, but—”
“Best kiss of my entire life,” I tell her seriously. And maybe I’m a fool. I’m showing all my cards, which is ridiculous. And I don’t have time in my life for a nap, let alone a date or a hookup or anything, but that kiss damn near brought me to my knees.
She flushes a little, and I can tell I’ve flustered her. “Lemme text you, then you’ll have my number for real.”
“Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll message you some times that work for me, and you can let me know what fits in with your schedule, too.”
Our conversation has shifted away from our chemistry to the far safer, and infinitely more boring, topic of our speech class. I should probably tell her I already took this class, well, started it and withdrew, but our food arrives and saves me from having to tell that embarrassing tale. It’ll keep. We turn our attention to the rest of the table to see that Meysy and Doyle are seeing who can eat the most chicken wings. One half of the group is cheering them on and taking bets, while the other half is glued to SportsCenter.
An hour later, I’m walking back to the house with some of my teammates. Herrera starts in with “Paige and Briggsy, sitting in a tree…” and the guys start howling.
See? This is why I don’t socialize.
6
Paige
“Yep, tutoring’s going really well,” I say, stretching the truth just a smidge. Ok, several smidges. The two sessions I went to really would have been helpful, if I had any desire to actually go to law school. But that is not the conversation I want to have with my dad today.
My parents mean well. My LSAT tutor can’t be cheap. They’d honestly do anything to help me. Well, anything, that is, except listen to my actual career aspirations. Ugh.
I tune back into the conversation with my dad, just in time for him to tell me he’s heading into surgery in a bit and has to go. We say our goodbyes and I walk into the library, even though I’m a solid half hour early for my study session with Spencer.
I reserved a study room on the third floor, so I wave to a guy I remember from my Chem lab last year, and head upstairs.
I really do have extra time on my hands, so I grab my bag and rifle through it. Minutes later, I have assembled a few of my favorite makeup products, and I’ve propped my phone on a stack of books. I should have just enough time to do a quick tutorial. The door is shut, so I know I won’t disturb anyone. Turning the camera on, I start my video.
“Ok, I’ve got a few spare minutes, so I thought I’d have some fun with this gorgeous new matte lip color from Lustre. It’s called Honey Rose and you just may need it in your life. I’m going to pair it with this liner from Arabella called Fortune. It’s this great neutral blush tone and the color is really true. Here, look,” I scribble a squiggle on my hand to demonstrate.
“So, you want to line just at the outside of your natural lips. Take your time here, pretties. If you color too far beyond that line, you’ll get a clown-like effect.” I visibly shudder. “And no one needs that. But, if you color too far inside, it has the appearance of shrinking your lips, and that’s not a good look. Nope. What we’re going for here is enhancing the natural, beautiful shape of your lips.” Getting right up in the frame, I slowly, carefully line my lips. “Now, I always like to go back into the cupid’s bow and emphasize that, and then go right below—right in the center of your bottom lip—and just darken that line a touch.” I pull back to make sure it looks good, then I pick up my lip color. “This is the best matte shade I’ve tried, my loves. I promise you will not be disappointed. It gives that perfect no-shine finish, without drying or cracking. See? I swipe the color on, press my lips together, and then smile for the camera. “You guys! I love this color! All right, pretties, that’s it for today. Remember, be good to each other, and be good to yourselves.”
I save the video and start to play around with edits, figuring I still have a few minutes, until I hear Spencer clear his throat. Glancing toward the door, I see him standing there and usher him in.
“Sorry, um. I didn’t mean to interrupt. I didn’t realize you were working on something.” He holds a hand up in mock surrender.
I’m a little embarrassed; I can’t lie. The only people who ever watch me do videos are Jake and my roommates.
“No, no. I’m sorry. Here, let me put all this stuff away, and we can get started.” I busy myself with tucking my makeup into its pouch.
“That was pretty cool, actually. Is it like one of those makeup tutorials?”
