Page 141 of Staying Selfless

They stand close in height, Zanders being an inch or so taller than Eli, but both sharing an equal amount of commanding presence. Eli’s pale skin contrasts with Zanders’ deep rich tone, and my boyfriend’s shaggy mop is the opposite of his friend’s tight fade.

To be honest, they look like a force to be reckoned with, and I would love, absolutely love, for them to somehow end up on the same NHL team. It would be quite the story for the once hated rivals, now turned friends, to play in the big leagues together.

“Baby, you remember Zanders?” Eli asks.

“Of course. Glad you could make it,” I say to Zanders as I open my arms to hug him.

I feel an odd sense of thankfulness towards Eli’s childhood rival. Regardless of their past, he’s the reason Eli gave therapy another shot, and it has helped him so much, especially in this critical time with NHL call-ups looming around the corner.

“Hey, Logan. Good to see you again.” His massive arms wrap around me.

His confident presence is lacking in his tone. Zanders’ voice sounds a bit shaky and anxious, not that I blame him. He’s Ohio State’s star defenseman, who took our star forward out for an entire season. He’s practically walking into the lion’s den right now.

Though, I sense that unease is a new feeling for the confident d-man. I doubt he’s often rattled.

As I look around the kitchen, most everyone is gawking. But I’m not sure at what exactly. It could be in shock because Eli Maddison just walked in here with Evan Zanders. Or maybe it’s with a certain level of hatred towards our school rival. But then there’s the option that seems the most likely to me—that Evan Zanders is fine as hell, and every girl in here with a pair of eyes can’t seem to keep them from bugging out of their head.

I mean, there’s a good chance he takes more time getting ready than I do, but boy is he pretty.

“Boys, you all know Zanders.” Eli motions towards the defenseman. “Zanders, this is Benny, Cam, and Goody. And you know my brother, Marc.” He points towards each of them. “That’s Sarah, and that’s...” he hesitates, questioning who his brother’s newest friend is.

“Ashley,” Marc states.

“Ashlyn,” she corrects, but Marc doesn’t seem to care.

“Hey,” Zanders nervously says to the group.

“Tequila?” Cam holds up the bottle.

“Fuck yes.”

After a round or two more, we finally grab some Ubers and head to the bar. Thankfully, most students at the hockey house aren’t twenty-one yet, so the migrating crowd is much smaller.

Marc is on his third friend of the night, which I assume is not his last. This fact alone keeps me from texting Ali and letting her know which bar we’re at. It’s not like she’s responded to me once tonight, so I doubt she cares to join. And I don’t know how it’ll make her feel to see Marc with someone else. I mean, she was the one who ended things, and Marc is currently man-whore-ing it up due to his hurt feelings, but I don’t want to be the reason she has to witness it, so I keep my phone tucked away for the night.

“What are you drinking, baby?” Eli stands behind me, his arms on either side of my body and his palms pressed into the bar top, caging me in.

“Mmm,” I contemplate. “Tequila-pineapple,” I shout, needing to project my voice in the oddly over-crowded bar.

“How about you, man?”

“I’ll take a whiskey neat,” Zanders tell him.

“Does Marc want something?” I ask Eli, both of us turning towards the dance floor to find a sloppy Marc grinding with yet another friend.

“He might want something, but he definitely doesn’t need anything,” my boyfriend says before ordering our drinks.

The crew that was old enough to get into the bar has already taken over the dance floor. We ended up staying at the hockey house for a couple more rounds than necessary, so everyone is pretty buzzed at this point. But Cam wanted to hang with his underage friends that couldn’t tag along, Benny included.

“So, what’s your story?” Zanders asks me, fresh drink in his hand.

“My story? What’s your story?” I counter, leaning my back on Eli’s chest as I stand between his legs. As I said, the bar is crowded, so we try to take up as little space as possible. That, and Eli doesn’t really know how to go more than ten seconds without touching me—not that I’m complaining.

“I asked first.” Zanders takes a swig from his glass. “Besides, you’re more interesting. I want to know about the chick who tamed the Minnesota fuckboy.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Eli chimes in from behind me.

“What do you want to know?” I ask the Ohio defenseman.

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