Page 3 of Lucky Shot
Noah has already traded dance partners and is now being groped by Felton Badcock, Winnipeg’s goalie.
“I don’t think Noah’s looking for someone to go to bed with, mate,” Owen says as he leans back on the chair, the front two legs coming up from the floor. “He’s just having a good time.”
Oddny doesn’t answer as he continues to glower.
I watch the handful of dancers on the dance floor now gyrating to a Katy Perry song that Max is butchering and maybe stitching it together with a Jake Hill song. They trade partners readily, all bumping and grinding together. Their greedy hands are constantly touching and pinching and pulling.
Absently, I wonder how many people have been climbing into bed together on this trip. Aside from the coupled-up ones like Buffalo’s starting line and Larson with his spitfire husband. His husband is one of the guys on the dance floor, shaking his ass and waving his hand over his head like he has a lasso.
It’s close to midnight when I head out of the party and toward my room. They’re just as opulent as the rest of the ship with textured wallpaper and $10,000 mattresses. I won’t even say what I’ve seen the bedding listed for. Out of curiosity the other night, I looked it up. Ouch.
Just as I’m reaching the residence floor, Oddny catches up. “Hey,” he calls and I pause a few feet from my door.
“What’s up? Didn’t score Noah tonight?”
He scowls at me, glaring with the best of them. I try not to smirk. “No,” he says, rolling his eyes and stopping in front of me. A little closer than necessary.
When he licks his lips, my stomach churns. Oh, fuck. Please, no. Did I give any mixed signals? Why does this always have to be awkward?!
“You want some company?” Oddny asks, stepping closer still and making it overtly obvious what his question is actually asking.
Awkwardly, I take a step back and hit the wall. Oddny chuckles, his hand moving to my hip.
“I didn’t take you for shy, Lix.”
I try not to shudder because I really don’t like to be touched. “I’m not shy,” I say. “I’m just not… interested?”
Oddly tilts his head but his hand doesn’t move. His fingers dig in slightly. “You don’t have to be interested, man. All I’m suggesting is friendly fucking.”
Placing my hand on his chest, I gently push him away a few inches. “I’m… flattered?” I say, and he gives me an amused smile. “Look. I don’t do casual. I swear to you, it’s not personal.”
“It’s not me, it’s you?” he says, releasing me.
I exhale as my tension leaves. “Sometimes, that’s really the case, Odd. This truly is amething. It has nothing to do with you.”
Oddny stares at me, pushing his hands into his pockets. I hold my breath. Over the years, I’ve seen all sorts of responses to this exact situation. ‘I don’t do casual’ is usually an easy out, but there are always those who take offense to it.
Finally, he nods and takes a few steps back. “Sorry, man. Wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”
I relax and shake my head. “It’s cool. We good?”
Oddny smirks again, once more amused. “Yeah. Like I said, I was looking for a friendly fuck. Not a lifetime commitment. Just wanted to scratch a mutual itch, you know? No big deal, Lix. See you tomorrow.” He slaps my shoulder and moves back down the hall.
Guess he didn’t realize that there is no itch over here. He’d have had better odds with me if he offered the lifetime commitment.
TWO
NOAH KAIN
I standin front of the mirror and stare at myself. Sometimes, I wish I was brave enough to give myself a scar. Or grow facial hair. I think I look stupid with facial hair, though. I have one of those faces that looks perpetually young, and I think any kind of facial hair makes me look absolutely ridiculous.
The attention from guys is fun for a while, but then it’s not. It’s all on the surface. They like what they see. It’s never actually about me.
Rolling my eyes, I snort at how corny the rhyme sounds in my head, even as I murmur the words out loud. My gaze drops to my bag stuffed under the vanity in the bathroom, holding the remnants of the items I packed. There’s a pretty nightie in there and a lace thong. A set of pearls. Not the good kind, but just some cheap ones from the internet.
None of the items in my bag are my favorite. In case I need to quickly claim they’re not mine and leave them behind. But my fingers itch to put everything on.
Absently, I touch my neck and then meet my eyes in the mirror again. I can see myself all dressed up in lace and pearls. My hair curled or maybe braided. Glitter around my eyes. Instead of pearls, maybe a pretty collar that goes with my beautiful dress? Would everyone still want me then? Would they still think I’m pretty?
