Page 87 of Goalkeeper
Spencer
A quick survey of the dwindling crowd in my living room shows no sign of Paige. I grab Noah’s arm as he passes. “Where is she?”
“Who? The girl Zac puked on?”
“Yes. Yeah, Paige.”
“She left, man. Right after you hosed her off, her friend came up to her in tears and they beat it out of here. I’m guessing she went back to her dorm or apartment or whatever.”
“What the fuck?” I’m all but shouting now, which is not my usual style. My housemates and teammates all turn in my direction.
“Chill out, Briggsy. What’s got you so worked up?” JD asks.
“Paige. Paige Underwood. She was here and we were playing Jenga. Like you said. Because I had to be fucking social.” I shake my head, aware that I’m not making much sense. “Anyway, Zac tossed his cookies all over her—”
“And you hosed her down with water, made a goddamn mess, stared at her like she was in a fucking wet T-shirt contest, and then turned tail and ran upstairs,” Chase interrupts.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where the hell did you go, Chase? One minute you were playing Jenga with us and then you were gone,” I sputter.
“Yeah, I hooked up with that blonde Kappa sister. What are you, my mother?” He grabs a beer from the fridge and wanders off (again). When the season starts, these guys are going to have a rude awakening.
I must’ve said that last part out loud because Chase turns back, glares at me, and mumbles something about “Mr. Perfect” under his breath.
“Yeah, we probably are,” Chase concedes. “But so are you the next time Paige sees you. What the hell, Briggsy? She was all into you and then you turn her into a popsicle and then ghost? Not cool.”
“I was trying to help. She was covered in puke. Yeah, the water was cold and that was a poor choice on my part, but my main objective was to get Zac’s vomit off of her. So I ran upstairs to get some towels, but by the time I made it back here, she was gone. Did any of you assholes help her?”
“Dude. You were the one handcuffed to her. Seemed like your place.” Andy shrugs and then meows.
I shake my head, because this conversation is getting me nowhere. “I need her number.”
For the second time in the last ten minutes, they all stare at me.
And I can’t blame them. I don’t think I’ve ever asked for a girl’s number for any reason.
But Paige isn’t just any girl.
Vonne gives me a long look, nods some sort of approval and grabs his phone. He shoots off a few texts, and within seconds, Paige’s number is in my phone.
“Thanks,” I say. “And thanks for cleaning up. I—”
“You took care of Zac, and that had to be worse than mopping the floor,” Chase pipes up.
“Mopping the floor?” Herrera scoffs. “Is that what you call it when you toss a bunch of towels down on a mess and then toss them all in a garbage bag?”
“Hey, it worked.” The cocky freshman shrugs.
“Do I even want to know whose towels those were?” Vonne asks.
“Zacarelli’s. Obviously. It was his puke.” Chase looks at us like we’re the crazy ones and goes back to drinking his beer.
“Ok, the mess is cleaned up, there are fewer than twenty strangers in the house, Zac’s good, and you’ve got Paige’s number, right?”
I nod.
“Good enough for me. I’m out.” JD gives a wave and heads out.
The other guys scatter and I’m left alone in the kitchen. Leaning back against the counter, I stare at my phone. Do I call? Do I text?
