Page 95 of Goalkeeper
“Um, yeah. It’s my channel. I just mess around. It’s nothing serious. I had time to kill, so I made a quick video.” I shrug, like it’s no big thing, even though it’s totallymy thing.
“That’s kind of awesome.” He smiles, and I swear my insides melt a little. I could talk all day about my channel, but it seems wiser to get down to business. I mean, that’s why we’re here, right? And Spencer seems hell-bent on avoiding me and any mention of our kiss, so sticking to the task at hand seems the safest way to go.
“It’s fun,” I say, glossing over just how much my vlog means to me and how much of my time, and myself, I pour into it. “So,” I segue awkwardly, as I pull up the syllabus on my screen, “It looks like our first speech is due next Thursday. That’s just over a week away.”
Taking my cue, he nods. “Yeah. I’ve got practice and training most days, but I can make time for this.” He blushes hard. “I, uh, actually took this class last year. Well, I started it but had to withdraw. I didn’t have Winslow, but honestly, I don’t remember who the prof was, that’s how infrequently I attended.” He pulls his ball cap impossibly lower, as if to hide the scarlet stain crawling up his cheeks.
“You nearly failed a class?” I blurt, which is uncharacteristic of me. I usually have way more tact.
“Uh, yeah.” He clears his throat. “Let’s just say I got off to a rocky start last year. The freedom of college was, uh, a little too tempting, I guess? Anyway, I went off the rails a bit. Nothing too crazy, just dumb freshman shit like skipping class and day drinking like it was my job. Before it got too bad, Coach ripped me a new one and I got the starting position and got back on track. So…” he drags the word out while drumming his fingers on the edge of the table, “I will definitely make time for these projects. I’m not going to tank my grade again, and I definitely won’t mess yours up. I promise. I’m not gonna lie, public speaking is probably my least favorite thing in the world, but I’m committed to doing a good job.” He looks at me so seriously, and though I want to laugh and say I’d never think he’d purposely dodge meetings and mess with my grade, I can tell this means a lot to him, so I nod. “Thanks, Spencer. And same here. I may not be an academic overachiever like my brothers and sister, but I promise I won’t let you down.”
“Brothers? Wait, did your brother go to Moo U and hang at the hockey house? I think I recognize the name.”
“Yeah, Jake. He graduated last year,” I say.
“He was friends with a couple of the seniors on last year’s team and he hung out at the house a few times. I never put the connection together. You guys don’t really look alike.”
“Not at all. Jake and our sister, Sophie, look like my mom’s side of the family. Nate, my oldest brother, looks like my dad. I look...like the recessive gene pool.” I laugh.
Spencer smiles, but I can feel our conversation stalling. Luckily, one of my gifts is saving conversations from dying awkward deaths.
“All right, so, can you meet after class tomorrow? I have a study group for Econ, but I’m free after 6.”
He shakes his head. “I’ve got practice until 9. Unless you want to meet up then?”
“That’s fine. We can go over our speeches and critique them. Then, before class next week, we can practice together. Sound good?”
“Yeah. You, uh, know where I live. You’re welcome to come over, but the guys get a little loud sometimes.”
“I am well aware of the shenanigans that go on at your place.” I laugh. “Can you swing by my dorm after practice? I’m in Hayward. Just text and I’ll buzz you up.”
“It’s a date,” he says, and then looks like he wants to crawl under the table and disappear. And at his height, that would be no easy feat.
“Relax, Spencer. I know what you meant.”
He nods. “Cool.”
I put my hand on his arm to reassure him, and holy hell, it feels like I’ve been zapped with electricity. Judging by the look on his face, he feels the same way. Well, at least I’m not alone in my attraction.
Spencer
Not that I’ve pictured myself in Paige’s dorm room or anything, ok, once, give me a break, but I never imagined I’d be standing in the doorway watching as she sat on the floor, her head caked in purple goop and her hands kneading the same goop in a large bowl in front of her.
Hell, even looking like an alien, this woman is beautiful.
“Uh, I’m a little early, so I can go and come back later if—”
She looks up, a little surprised she’s not alone.
“Sorry, Emma told me to come right in.” I shrug.
“Of course she did.” Paige shakes her head but that hair is stuck in the purple helmet of glop and it’s not budging.
“Come on in and make yourself at home. I just need,” she checks her phone, “eleven more minutes before I can rinse.”
“Ok, cool,” I say awkwardly, looking around for an open spot that isn’t on her bed. The room is pretty and warm and very Paige, from what I can tell. Everything is pink and white and that pinky-gold color. And for the most part, it’s tidy. The bed is made, and there’s a mountain of pillows in various shapes and sizes. The hamper is next to the closet, and it’s not overflowing. But the desk? That’s another story. There are three large boxes, all open, with bubble wrap strewn everywhere. And surrounding those boxes are more bottles and boxes. And there are three of those straightening iron things. Jesus. How much hair does she have?
“Oh, crap. Sorry. I got mail today and I haven’t finished unpacking yet. Just grab a seat on the bed.”
