Page 22 of Testing the Goalie

Monster got his nickname from how massive the guy is. He makes me feel tiny, and I’m not a small guy. Honestly, I don’t even know the guy’s real name. His last name is Williams, and I only have that information because it’s printed on his jersey. He’s a baseball player and really good despite his gigantic size, but we’ve never been close friends.

“‘Sup?” I reply with a tilt of my chin.

“Rumor on the street is Stacey’s been poking holes in condoms,” he informs me.

My brows pull together as I try to figure out who Stacey is and why I’m being told this information. Monster must pick up on my confusion because he throws his head back laughing and gives my shoulder a gentle shove.

“She’s the puck bunny who was all over you at Parker’s party,” he reminds me, and I gasp a little.

“Well, it’s a good thing I didn’t sleep with her,” I murmur.

Monster nods. “I’d steer clear of her and her friends if I were you. They have this weird pregnancy pact going on.”

“How do you know this?” I question, leaning against a locker.

“My sister was friends with her but told them they were insane when they came up with the crazy idea that they should all get pregnant at the same time. Apparently, they are crazy enough to think if they’re pregnant, they’ll be able to lock down the guy who knocked them up. They are mainly targeting guys with professional prospects.”

“Why target me then? I have no desire to go pro,” I tell him.

“They aren’t the brightest crayons in the box. I assume they just see what is written on the websites and go with it. Everyone always talks about how you would be picked up immediately if you applied for the NHL. The girls read what a promising career you could have if you went that route, and the rest is history,” he supplies.

“I’m fucking glad I’ve decided to stop sleeping around,” I grumble.

“Oh? Did you get yourself a boyfriend or a girlfriend?” he checks.

“Just a fuck buddy,” I correct him. “But we agreed to be exclusive. It kind of works out to be the best thing ever. I don’t have to worry about emotions or trying to clear my schedule so my partner feels cared for. I just call my guy up when I’m horny, fuck like bunnies, and go back to my regular life.”

“Damn, that sounds awesome. How do I find one of those?” he questions, and I shrug.

“Girls aren’t usually into no-strings-attached relationships,” I say, since he’s straight, at least as far as I know. “But there might be someone out there, and I’m just being a misogynistic asshole.”

Monster laughs. “True story.”

“Did you just get here, or were you on your way out?” I check.

“Just arrived,” he replies. “I was about to head into the gym when I saw you come in and wanted to give you the warning.”

“I appreciate that. Want to work out together? I’m doing arms today and need a spotter.”

He smiles and nods. “I’m doing arms too. I’ll meet you by the water fountain.” With those parting words, he heads out, and I change quickly.

I’ve always been the kind of guy who has a shit ton of friends. I guess I’m just likable, but most of my friendships aren’t deep, like the fact I have no clue what Monster’s real name is. I only found out Rio’s real name, which is Arthur Leon, when we became roommates.

Maybe I need to focus on building better friendships. I don’t want to be known as the guy who had a million friends, but no one shows up at my funeral.

I’m pretty sure the reason I’ve always kept people at a distance is because I grew up in the foster care system. Letting people in was dangerous because you never knew if they were going to stab you in the back. It was best to keep to myself. Also, caring too much for anyone was a bad idea because there was always the possibility they wouldn’t be in your life for long.

Clearly, I have kept that same mentality in college. I’m friendly with everyone, and I say I have lots of friends, but in reality, I don’t know anyone well, and they don’t know me. But that’s something I’m able to change.

Once I’m changed, I meet Monster where he told me he would be. “Dude, what’s your real name?” I question, and he laughs.

“It’s Isaiah,” he replies with a cheesy grin, making my brows pull together.

That is the last name I was expecting him to say. “That name doesn’t suit you at all,” I reply.

“Why do you think I strictly go by my nickname?” he inquires. “I’m named after my grandfather which is cool, but I never truly identified with the name. I considered changing my name when I turned eighteen, but that would have broken my mom’s heart, so I kept it.”

“So do girls cry out ‘oh, Monster’ when you fuck them?” I check, heading to our first machine.

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