Page 91 of Boyfriend
Eat your soup. You’re going to need the energy. What are you going to spend your bonus on?
The deposit for a new apartment. Somewhere with a full-size freezer, where you don’t have to trick the heating system to stay warm.
I liked keeping you warm, I admit. But I agree about your pad. Tell that landlady you’re outtie.
No more bad jobs or bad apartments. She agrees. It’s the end of an era.
And the start of another, I add. Then I follow it with a bunch of heart emojis, because I’m turning into a big sap.
But I think I like it.
Thirty-Two
Shoot!
Abbi
“Omigod. Omigod! SHOOT!” I scream as Weston rushes the net.
But he’s blocked! There’s a tussle, and Weston manages to keep the puck off the enemy’s stick by firing it back to Tate.
I scream again.
Cooper laughs. He’s seated on my left, eating popcorn and watching me freak out during the third period of Weston’s game against Boston College.
On my right sits Carly. She has to go to work later. But this is a day game, so she can see the hockey team in action and then serve their supper afterward.
She won’t, however, have to fend off Price while she does it. Carly told me earlier this week that my step-stepbrother has been fired from the Biscuit.
“I saw the whole thing go down, Abbi, and I’m sad there’s no video. But he stole a bottle of premium vodka from behind the bar,” she’d told me gleefully. “Then he put it in his pants on the way out. The new bouncer stopped him. He said—I swear to God—'There’s no way your dick is that big.’”
I’d laughed so hard that Kippy gave me the stink eye. Not that I care much anymore about what that guy thinks. Now that my bonus check has cleared, I feel less pressure to take every shift he offers me. That’s why I’m watching this hockey game with Carly on a Friday afternoon. I don’t need to kiss Kippy’s ass anymore.
Actually, I feel less pressure about everything except this hockey game. My semester will wind down in a few weeks. I’ll graduate on the quad at the end of May. And then my full-time job will begin at the flannel factory.
My new apartment is already waiting for me, too. I’d started hunting while I was recovering from the flu. And I’d found a sunny renovated one-bedroom in a walk-up brick building off of Church Street. It was available immediately, however. So I called my landlady, who said she’d end my lease early if I wanted. “I finally got a buyer for this place,” she’d said. “He can find his own tenants.”
So that was an unexpected stroke of luck. My new place is sitting empty, though, until I move in there ten days from now. I can’t wait.
From the new place, it will be a short walk to work in one direction. Or, in the other direction, I can walk uphill to meet Weston on campus. He’s spending the summer in Burlington too. He’s got a nine-to-five job working as a clerk in the hospital.
“To burnish my stellar resume before I apply to med school,” he said. “But we can drive to my dad’s lake house on the weekends. How do you feel about paddleboarding?”
“I’ll learn,” I’d told him, “especially if you’ll make gorilla noises while you demonstrate.”
“Nah. Dolphin sounds this time.” Then he’d made the sound of a dolphin’s snicker, and I’d laughed so hard I got the hiccups.
I’m really looking forward to the summer, and not just because I’ll get to see Weston in a bathing suit. I’ve got so many things to look forward to—a new job. A new apartment. More time with Weston and Carly.
And I won’t have to smell like Buffalo wings every night anymore. Those days are almost behind me.
But first we’ve got to win this game before I die of excitement. It’s the third period, and the score is 3-3. There are eight minutes left on the clock, and it’s a struggle not to leap out of my seat every time we touch the puck.
“Ooh, penalty,” Cooper says.
“On who?” I scan the ice, full of anxiety. But then a BC player heads for the penalty box, and the announcer calls the penalty against him. “What’s high sticking?” I ask my companions.
“I don’t know, but it sounds wonderfully dirty,” Carly says.
