Page 26 of Anatomy of a Player

Kristen started flirting immediately, and had guys fetching her drinks in no time. In my conservative garb, I didn’t get a single drink offer, even when I smiled and made small talk, which sent a mix of insecurity and irritation through me. Weren’t there any guys who’d offer a nice girl a drink? Was it really only about scoring? The here and now?

I thought high school guys were immature, but at least they were willing to go to dinner and the movies without assuming there’d be sex at the end. College guys are the worst.

It was a good thirty minutes before I spotted Hudson. Two girls flanked him, both of them wearing Boston College hockey shirts, only they’d cut off the bottom half and their shorts took the “short” part of their name very seriously. He said something, they both laughed, and one leaned her hand on his arm, as if she might laugh hard enough to fall over otherwise.

His eyes met mine across the room. Held for three long heartbeats. Then he turned his attention back to the ditzy twins.

“Holy shit, Whit,” Kristen said. “Why didn’t you tell me all the hockey players were so delicious? I would’ve made sure to catch every one of their parties.”

Before I could form a response, she strolled right up to Hudson and introduced herself, not giving a second thought to the other girls. I’d thought I had confidence before I met Kristen—I’d never seen a girl so sure of herself and her ability to land a guy. Sometimes to the point that she’d leave me behind to do so, like now. Which was how a lot of my friends were in high school. I hadn’t realized there was another option until Lyla and I became so close.

It’s not like I told Kristen that Hudson was off-limits. And he’s not, except if he’s hooking up with her all the time, it’ll make it hard for me to finish my Anatomy of a Player article.

I tried to flip it, telling myself that it could actually be good research, because I could see what moves he used on her—she wouldn’t fight or resist them like I was trying to. Er, doing. I could compare. See if his tactics differed based on the girl. Note how long before he lost interest.

No matter how I flipped it, though, that interior dig of jealousy grew, a biting edge of misery to it.

I slowly walked over, and Kristen linked her arm through mine and tugged me next to her. “This is my friend Whitney.”

“We’ve met,” Hudson said.

Unsure how he felt about me after our minor altercation, my words caught in my throat, and I ended up lifting my hand in a tentative wave.

“Cool. Come dance with me.” Kristen clamped on to his hand and tugged him to his feet. The ditzy twins glared daggers at Kristen’s back as she led Hudson to the floor, where people were dancing and grinding. They left with a huff, and I leaned against the wall, thinking once again that coming had been a stupid idea.

My phone chimed, and I pulled it out of my pocket to see that Lyla had texted me. I’d texted earlier to ask if she was going to be at the party, but she’d said she and Beck were heading to his place for the night instead.

Lyla:Hey, I fed Einstein double before the game, but if he gets to feeling too picked on, do you think you could give him a few extra snacks when you get home?

Me:Sure. Have fun.

The song ended, and Hudson and Kristen returned. “Get me a drink?” Kristen asked—or more like demanded—her hand on Hudson’s arm.

“Sure,” he said with one of his casual smiles that had anything but casual repercussions.

• The player will hit on your friends, even if he spent last weekend being all charming at a pool hall. No girls are off-limits.

“…want something, Whitney?”

Hearing my name pulled me back to the present. Even in a boring outfit, he was going to offer me a drink? “A beer would be great, thanks.”

Hudson gave my shoulder a quick squeeze, and my stomach did a somersault before it realized that it shouldn’t. I watched him weave through the crowd, toward the drink table.Don’t go thinking this means something it doesn’t. He knows me—that’s why he offered.

“I didn’t realize,” Kristen said, bumping her shoulder into mine.

I turned to her. “Realize what?”

“That you’re into him. I’ll back off.”

I shook my head, a little too frantically probably, but I couldn’t seem to stop. “I’m not. I’m going for nice, nerdy types from now on.”

“Mm-hm.”

When Hudson returned, he handed a cup to me and one to Kristen. She excused herself under the pretense of seeing a friend and left us alone. I took a sip of the foamy beer and kicked at the sticky floor, not sure what to say.

Hudson leaned back against the wall and drank his beer without comment, seemingly unsure himself. Or more likely, he was probably wishing for the return of the ditzy twins, or biding his time until another girl inevitably hit on him, one who’d have way more skin on display than I did.

I glanced toward the crowd, then spun back to face Hudson, planning on thanking him for the drink and then moving on—surely I could find some preferential treatment going on to add to my article. But then he tilted his head and looked at me, and I saw the guy from the pool hall instead of the one from the locker room. Even though I knew better than to think that night had meant something to him, I’d reminisced about it several times during the week. Which was probably why I’d gone overboard the second I came face-to-face with him again.

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