Page 3 of Chase Lovett Wants Me

The guy in front of me moves closer to the kettle and I close the gap. Two more people making cheap food for dinner and then it’s my turn.

Chase stands and spins to face the back, an unmade cup of KD in his hand.

The guy beside me yells, “Send it my way. I got you covered, Lovett!”

Chase tosses the KD cup in my direction.

For a fraction of a second, my eyes lock with Chase’s. My heart skips two beats. My entire body tingles from head to toe. My breath catches in my lungs.

I’m holding my ramen cup, my soya sauce, and a pair of chopsticks. And the KD cup is coming straight for me. A hand shoots out from my right and catches the KD before it hits me in the face, covering up Chase’s flared eyes.

And then one of the girls who always looks through me comes shrieking into the room, yelling about a party tonight at some fraternity house after the game.

I tell myself I’m glad I’ve never been invited to a party.

It sounds like way too many people and too many bad decisions.

I make my ramen and steal one last glance at Chase before I head back to my room, leaving the guy behind me to make Chase’s dinner.

I should definitely work on the creative writing submission. It would be the smart thing to do. The right thing.

But I have this great party scene in my head for my fanfic. I flip open my laptop. It shouldn’t take me long to get it down. Then I’ll focus on my submission.

CHAPTER 2

CHASE

“If you could get picked up by any team, what team would it be?” Gage asks.

“That’s easy, Toronto,” I reply. “Brodes, what team would you want to play for?” Brody has already been drafted and so have I. But Ottawa has their eye on him, and Vancouver wants me.

“Anywhere but Toronto.” Brody tosses a stress ball into the air with one hand and catches it with the other.

“But playing for the same team as your brother would be so cool,” Gage says. “You’ve got those good Stiles genetics.”

“Yeah, but the pressure would be stupid. And he would want to mentor me, or challenge me, and then it would just be me trying to mirror his career and that would suck. I’ll already always be compared to him.” Brody bounces the ball on his elbow, catches it, then repeats the move on the other side.

Tristan is one of the top players in the league, so I can see how much of a double-edged sword this is for Brody. I have an older sister and a younger brother, neither of which are into sports, so there’s no one to compete with.

We leave the locker room and are immediately rushed by a group of girls hanging out in the arena foyer. I don’t know them,but two of them seem to know Gage. Brody tucks his hands in his pockets and plasters on a smile, but this shit always makes him uncomfortable. His brother had a reputation last year, until Tristan started dating his teammate’s sister. Now he’s in a committed relationship. But the rumors still follow him around. And because Brody plays hockey and looks like a younger version, people expect him to be the same way.

One of the girls turns to me and starts chatting as we head for the exit. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen her at a party before. Brody and I have the same class next, so we make our way to the science building while Gage heads to Rocks for Jocks with the two girls. A rush of students floods the stairs to the lecture theater. We fist-bump guys and accept hugs from girls. It’s like this wherever we go. Hockey is what Tilton University is known for, so we’re basically royalty. It doesn’t matter that we’re freshmen, plus Brody’s brother instantly elevates our status.

I’ve never been this high on the social food chain and while I’ve enjoyed the hell out of it for the past couple of months, it’s becoming repetitive. Every weekend it’s another party, another hookup, another girl’s number in my phone who I don’t connect with in any way other than physically. They don’t want to know me anyway. They want to talk about pro hockey players and my dream car when I secure my first contract.

I glance to the right, where a pint-sized girl with a hood covering half her face climbs the stairs next to me. Someone on their phone nearly collides with her, but she pulls a Matrix move and ducks out of the way. She mutters “excuse you too, dickface” and continues up the steps. We reach the doors at the same time. I raise my arm above her head—it’s not hard, she’s at least a foot shorter than me—and leave enough room for her to pass through the gap.

She pauses, head turning, chin tipping up. Gray eyes lift to meet mine. I feel her gaze like a shot of tequila to my soul. And other parts.

“After you.” I motion her ahead of me.

Her eyes flare. Her mouth opens and closes. Someone almost bumps into her from behind. Other bodies stream past us. She murmurs a barely audiblethank youand scurries past me. I lose her in the crowd, disappointed because she has a face I want to keep looking at.

Class is long. And today we’re talking about cell structure, so I’m forced to take copious notes, in part because I only managed to read half the chapter in preparation. After class, Brody and I meet up with a few of our teammates to talk strategy for the upcoming game before we return to the dorms.

I should stay in tonight and study. Catch up on my reading for bio and get to bed early. But the second we walk through the doors, Annabelle and Barbie are there, telling us about another off-campus party.

“Cover is only like twenty bucks, and they have a keg and coolers,” Barbie says.

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