Page 2 of The Hockey Player and the Tutor
“Thanks to Shelly Duchane for coming up with this idea,” Stacy announces, acknowledging our senior sister in the front corner for her contribution. “I’m super excited to kick it off and get started on event planning. Since we’re already in mid-September, we only have a few short weeks to make this happen and get our spook on!”
Stacy opens it up for suggestions from the group, allowing for a myriad of ideas to be thrown out and shared, each one building on the spooky theme and creating a higher level of excitement. I furiously jot down my own notes, thinking through some options that might work well, along with costume and design ideas.
By the conclusion of the meeting, we’ve determined that the event will take place at Lisette Munds parents’ Victorian home in town, which will be available while her mom and dad are in Europe, and the event will be held over a two-week period leading up to Halloween. During the event, each sorority sister will dress up in a costume of their choice and team up in pairs to decorate and host a haunted room in the fifteen-room mansion.
“Oh, my God, I know exactly what my costume will be,” Maddie chirps in her British accent, leaning over to whisper in my ear. I give her a side-eye glance. “Let’s just say I have attended a lot of British prep schools before coming to the U.S.”
When I tilt my head inquisitively, she waggles her eyebrows and stares at me expectantly. I stare blankly back. Then she gives herself a face-palm, rolling her eyes incredulously. “A naughty schoolgirl, you dope! You know, a la Britney Spears’ ‘Baby One More Time’ ponytails, skirt, and knee-highs?” She shimmies her shoulders and pouts coyly.
My mouth forms in the wide-O to confirm my understanding.
Maddie grins. “Boys can’t resist the outfit and the booty.”
My face automatically flushes pink from her insinuation. Even the thought of something sexual makes me blush.
I can’t help it. Sex was never discussed openly between me and my mom, and even though I’m in college, I’m still shy about the subject. I’ve become much more open to talking about it, but I’m pretty sure I’m the only virgin left in my sorority house.
Maddie plants both hands on the tops of my shoulders and shakes her head in feigned frustration. “Oh, Brin, what are we going to do with you? We need to lose this innocence of yours. You’re almost twenty-one and still a virgin.”
As if she just came up with a brilliant idea, Maddie drops a hand and snaps her fingers before pointing at me in declaration.
“That’s it. We are going to devise a plan to get you laid in one of the haunted rooms!”
“Omigod, no! Shut up, Maddie!” I shriek, trying to slap a hand over her mouth with no success as she jumps out of my reach and runs toward the bottom of the stairway.
Just as she hits the steps, she yells at the top of her lungs, “Halloween mission is to get our little princess’s cherry popped this year! Who’s on board?”
Like the communal war cry at an English pub during a football match, a “here-here" chant is collectively shouted across the room.
My cheeks flame hot, probably turning as red as a garden tomato and I bury my head in my hands.
Good grief, why did I ever think it would be a good idea to tell my roommate I am a virgin?
ChapterTwo
Preston
“Get your asses moving, boys! We don’t have all day to fuck around,” Coach Hensley shouts from the inside of the locker room. On a good day, he’s gruff, but today he sounds more pissed than usual.
Although we’re early in the season and have only played three official games, we’ve lost two out of those three. So, yeah. He’s a grumpy bastard who has a few bones to pick with us.
I finish lacing up my skates and do a quick adjustment of my pads before I throw on my practice jersey. There’s a second when a distinctive odor hits my nose and I do a quick sniff of the jersey.
Nope, not mine.
I turn to look over at Skeeter sitting next to me on the bench, texting on his phone.
“Dude, did you shower this morning? I can smell your stank from over here.” I pinch the bridge of my nose to indicate my severe displeasure over his personal hygiene.
Josh Sheckles, or Skeeter as he’s been dubbed, one of our forwards, flicks his middle finger at me.
“Nope. Why bother? I’m just going to get all sweaty and smelly from practice. Plus, I wanted the extra fifteen minutes to stay in bed with Lila.”
Fair point.
But I roll my eyes, nonetheless. “I get it, bro. But next time, at least use some deodorant or something.”
He snickers and shoves his phone back in his locker while I wait for him to get all his gear. We walk out of the locker room together toward the ice rink and down the tunnel where we hear our teammates bantering and chirping at each other. It’s louder than normal and the coach has to yell and whistle over the noise to get everyone’s attention as we huddle up on center ice.
