Page 5 of Becoming Selfish

“I am.” Marc turns to leave, but he quickly pops his head back in to say, “Also, Logan is new here, so try not to be too much of an asshole tonight,” then ducks out before I have a chance to respond.

If this Logan dude doesn’t have enough of a backbone to take a little shit from his best friend’s stepbrother, I don’t think I’m going to want him around much.

Once I’m alone again, I start to clean up my room a bit, not that anyone is going to see it. No one is allowed in here, especially on a party night. But the cleaner I can make it, the better I will hopefully sleep. I’ve tried everything to sleep better, but nothing has done the trick. Having a clean room helps me turn off my brain a bit at night, but it’s never truly off. It’s always overthinking and overanalyzing about my future, worrying about my next game, wondering if I’m ever going to get that call from the league. My sleep has gotten worse the older I’ve gotten, and the further my dream of playing in the NHL has become. After I broke my ankle three years ago, I’ve been anxious. I always assumed I was guaranteed to play in the big leagues at some point, as did everyone else, but after my injury, it’s been a giant question mark. The only thing that’s helped me sleep better is alcohol, but I try to avoid going overboard on that when I’m in season or training.

Speaking of alcohol, I grab my keys and head out to buy drinks for the party tonight. I don’t plan on drinking since I have training in the morning, but I’m one of the few guys that lives here that’s over twenty-one and can buy alcohol without using a fake ID.

Chapter 3

Logan

By the time I’ve unloaded my car, Ali and I have passed by each other three more times. On the trips down to the parking lot, I’ve learned that she’s also starting her first year of grad school to get her MBA, and she’s excited to hear that I’m doing the same. She also asked if Logan Leo is my real name because she thinks it sounds like an actor’s name. I don’t think she remembered that part about me not being from LA, but I informed her that it is indeed my real name and that my dad was adamant on the name, Logan, whether I was born a boy or a girl.

Ali is wearing a tight black crop top that barely covers her bra and it’s paired with plaid pants that are tight around her ankles, inside of Doc Marten boots. Her vibe is edgy but effortless. Her entire stomach is exposed, and she looks absolutely flawless.

She fills me in on her family life. The oldest of three girls, her parents are married and living in Brooklyn, as are both sets of her grandparents. She likes to work out, but she also loves to eat, which are two of my favorite things as well.

Ali also adds that she doesn’t have a boyfriend because she doesn’t believe in them, which I find interesting.

“What do you mean you don’t believe in boyfriends?”

“I just mean, why tie yourself down to one person when you can experience a whole world full of people?”

We both close our trunks. Ali’s goal of only taking two trips ended up turning into five. As we head back into the building, I say, “Yeah, I guess so. I’ve never thought of it that way before. I’m not one to date around a lot. I’ve only ever had one boyfriend.”

She turns to me with a shocked expression. “What? But you’re like, hot. I would think guys would be all over you?”

I don’t think anyone has ever called me hot—even a girl. My cheeks warm. “I don’t know. I’ve never really been out to meet a lot of guys. I had a pretty hectic home life until last year, so I’ve just kind of been a homebody.”

“So, you have the same boyfriend now?” Ali asks.

“Oh no. We broke up around Christmas last year. He cheated on me. I’m still trying to get over some of that.”

Her eyes widen again. “What a piece of shit! And an idiot!” She takes a deep breath. “Well, now you have me as your wing-woman, and we’re going to meet some new guys this year. But no boyfriends. Just experiences.”

The number of times she’s mentioned ‘experience’ makes me more and more aware that I have none. I had only dated my ex, Zac, for about nine months. At that time, my mom had gotten really sick, and my focus was all on her. I probably wasn’t the best girlfriend for him, but I honestly did the best I could.

We met in class during my junior year of undergrad, in one of the very few classes I had on campus. Most of my classes were online, because I needed to help my mom out after my dad had suddenly passed away during my senior year of high school. When I met Zac, I was mostly shocked that he was giving me the time of day. My life was not that of a typical college student, and his definitely was. I didn’t go to the parties that everyone went to, I didn’t attend the football games, and I didn’t even spend much time on campus. So honestly, I had no idea why Zac was interested in spending time with me. Our relationship was pretty surface-level, and I don’t think I ever fully trusted him to show him my real life at home.

When I finally did let him in, he ran. Well, he cheated. And to be honest, I don’t blame him. My life was a handful even for me at the time, and he couldn’t handle it, which I understood. I just wish he would’ve told me with his words rather than finding another woman’s bra on his bedroom floor. My heart knew there was something I couldn’t trust in him, and my body recognized it too. Physically we never did much because I didn’t feel comfortable enough to give him that part of me. Again, I don’t blame him for cheating.

Ali and I reach our dorms, going our separate ways to unpack the rest of our belongings. I’m almost done making my bed when I get a knock on my door.

Chapter 4

Logan

Opening the door, I find the one person I’ll never get tired of seeing.

“Logan!” Marc hugs me, picking me up at the same time. I tend to forget just how tall Marc is. I thought I was tall at 5’8”, but he’s at least 6’2” and can pick me up with ease.

“Hey!” I wrap my arms around his neck. I’ve missed my best friend for the last two months. We’ve talked every day, but it’s just not the same.

“Dude, we’re on the same floor. How sick is that?” he states while placing me back on my feet.

“Really? Where’s your room?” I peek my head out into the hallway.

He points about three doors down on the opposite side of the hall. “C-8. Right there.”

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