Adam gives Jude another hug, then makes his way to his car.
“I love you,” I tell him as I kiss him one more time.
“Love you, too,” he replies before getting in his car and starting the engine. “Call me when you’re settled, yeah?”
“Yes, of course,” I tell him. Then he signals, checks his mirrors, and drives off, giving a small wave out of the window as he goes. It’s not quite the tearful goodbye I imagined, but I guess it’s only a three-hour drive. We’re not on opposite sides of the world, so I’ll take it.
I’m putting away some of my things in the kitchen when I hear the door open and laughter wafting through the hall. Jude walks in with two other guys, who I assume are my new roommates. Both are tall, one with tanned skin, brown hair, and dark brown eyes, and the other with dark blond hair and light hazel eyes.
“Thea, these are two of your roomies. Nolan,” Jude says, pointing toward the blond, “and Devon,” he says, nodding toward the other.
“Nolan, Dev, this is Thea, my sister. No looking, no touching, no lewd comments, and most of all, no dirty underwear left in the hall, got it?”
There’s a moment of silence before we all burst out laughing. I know Jude is joking because, hell, I hung out with his friends a lot when we were kids, and he’s never said anything like this before. It’s not as if I’m the type to hook up with one of them. I have a boyfriend, after all.
“It’s good to meet you, Thea,” Devon says after we recover. “Jude’s told us a lot about you.”
“Yeah,” Nolan continues. “Like how he used to really look forward to all your tea parties when you were little and how you used to practice your beauty routine on him!”
We laugh again as Jude pretends to look shocked before adding, “Hey, guyliner was a thing!”
I’m grateful Nolan and Devon have instantly put me at ease since we will all be living together. They seem like good, fun guys so I’m not surprised they are good friends with Jude.
“It’s nice to meet you, too,” I tell them. “I can’t promise to give beauty tutorials, but I do make a mean lasagna. If you’re up for good home-cooked meals every now and then, hit me up.”
“Oh. My. God. Did . . . did she say . . .Lasagna?” Nolan gasps. “Marry me already! Jude, where have you been hiding this princess all my life, and why haven’t I met her sooner?”
“Because I knew you’d react just like this, and I wanted to savor the moment!”
“He’s not kidding, Thea,” Devon tells me in his deep-timbered voice, “we’ve been living off pizza for so long, I think we’ll turn into a deep dish, stuffed crust soon. Home-cooked meals sound amazing. Thank you.”
We talk some more, with the boys asking me about Silver Lake and my reasons for moving. I tell them the truth—I needed a change. They are so welcoming and friendly, and I feel reassured I’ll fit in well with them, despite being the only female in the house.
“Hey,” Nolan asks as he moves toward the stairs to his room. “Have you heard from Ky?”
“Not yet,” Jude replies before turning to me. “Kyler is our other roommate. He’s hardly ever here though, so don’t be surprised if you don’t see him. He likes to keep to himself, so we just leave him to it.”
“Yeah,” Devon continues, “he can be a moody sonofabitch sometimes, but don’t worry, it’s unlikely to be directed at you. He’ll be polite enough, but just likes his own space.”
“Duly noted,” I reply, my interest already piqued at who this mysterious Kyler is. Maybe I’ll find out soon enough.
Two
Kyler
“Last call,”I holler out and prepare for the rush of people coming to the bar. It’s Thursday night, and for the most part, quiet. I know a few kids from school who are hanging out, but the rest of the crowd are summer stragglers, determined to extend their vacation by a couple more nights. I can’t say I blame them. The idea of starting classes next week is daunting, and I’m not looking forward to the Monday through Friday hassle of having to study, sit through lectures, and prepare for the upcoming hockey season.
People start to leave. The regulars tell me goodbye, and some wish me good luck. I’ve spent countless hours talking to them about school and hockey. They’ll come to the games when they start, and most will show up when our Blue Line Club has some event where fans can come meet the players. Some forget I’ll be working up until hockey season starts, and then my days will vary. Even though I’m on a scholarship, I still have to work. The “full-ride” offer schools give is pretty much a joke. Granted, they pay for my schooling, on-campus food, and books, but that’s it. If I need clothes, a damn snack, or gas for my car—it’s all on me. Most of the guys on the team still get an allowance from their parents. No such luck when it comes to my parents. Actually, just a parent. My dad bailed when I was two, leaving my mom to raise my sister and me on a very limited income. To say I grew up on the struggle bus would be an understatement, and I’m only where I am because of sponsors. There’s no way in hell my mom would’ve been able to afford to keep me in the hockey programs without programs aimed at helping underprivileged kids.
A hottie comes up to the bar with her empty martini glass. She’s been in town for two weeks, taking advantage of the late season sales, which are meant to increase tourism in Northport. “Hey,” she says in what should sound like a sultry voice but comes off as raspy and a bit too loud because of all the extra bar noise.
“Manhattan?” I ask her as I take her empty glass and set it with the others I need to wash. When I turn back to her, she’s leaning on the bar with her breasts pushed together. After two weeks of trying, the answer will still be “no” from me.
“What time do you close?”
I smirk at her question. She’s trying hard to pick me up. “It’s last call, sunshine. You’ve got thirty minutes until the bar closes.”
“So, you can leave in a half hour?” Her eyes twinkle. I hold up my finger and tend to the patrons around her. I’m not trying to be rude, but I need the tips from the people clamoring for one last drink. Miss Sunshine stays at the bar, even though I’m doing my best to ignore her. Each time I have to mix another drink, she’s there smiling. It would be so easy to take her back to my place or fuck her in the alley behind the bar, but that’s not who I am. There’s too much on my plate to be messing around with one-night stands. I’m probably the one bartender in the world who doesn’t take anyone back to their place or screw someone in their car. I fear pregnancy. I’ve heard so many horror stories of a one-night stand knock-ups, it’s enough for me to keep my Johnson zipped up tightly in my pants.