Page 31 of For Crosby

“What’d he say?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know. You were right about the gaga eyes. He never gave them to me.”

“Say that again,” Finlay said.

“What?”

“‘You were right.’ I love hearing you say that.”

I laughed.

“Come on. Let’s grab a coffee and talk crap about him.”

Crosby

Xavier, our back-up forward, slid his nearly-filled cardboard box over to me. I packed my hundredth box of mashed potatoes into it before sliding it to our goalie JR, who packed the canned corn. The box ended with Jeremy who packed the pie mix.

Coach had arranged a team-building event at a local shelter helping with Christmas care packages for needy families. I loaded another box of potatoes in, passing it along while cursing the fact that we needed to keep up appearances for the coach and the workers at the shelter who were thrilled to have us helping.

“You going out with us after?” Xavier whispered as he slid the next box to me.

“Seriously?”

“It’ll be fun. We never all get to let loose together.”

“Oh, I think these guys let loose fine when I’m not around.”

“Come on. You and me. We’ll stick together.”

I eyed the six-foot redhead freshman, laughing to myself that he wanted to be my wingman. It had been some time since I let loose with anyone. An overzealous freshman was better than no one. “Okay.”

He seemed surprised. “Yeah?”

“What the hell.”

He laughed and passed me another box. “You know how to dance?”

I laughed. “You asking me to dance, freshman?”

His cheeks reddened. “What? Me? No. But girls like guys who get out on the dance floor and dance.”

“You looking for a girl?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Wouldn’t mind one.”

“Well, let’s see what we can do about that then.”

A smile spread across his freckled face.

If anyone asked me what I thought I’d be doing a year ago at this time, I would’ve said playing pro hockey—not going clubbing with a freshman who was looking to get laid. Yet, that’s what the cards had in store for me. So, I did what I’d been doing since I arrived on campus. I rolled with it.

Sabrina

The music in the bar had been kicked up. The colorful lights over the dance floor flashed. One more drink and I’d be in the middle of the dance floor getting my mother-effing groove on. If anyone deserved it, I did.

“Be back with drinks,” Caden said before heading to the bar and leaving Finlay and me with Forester. Apparently, Forester and his ex—who I’d pushed him back to in a moment of selflessness—had gotten back together over Thanksgiving break, and the guy hadn’t stopped smiling since.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he said in that smooth way he did everything.

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