Shut Out (Bayard Hockey #1)(21)

As we walk to the party, I ask, “So who invited us to this? Whose place is it?”

“Natalie. She invited Barks but told him to invite whoever he wants, and he invited us.” Barks is Adam Barker, one of our D-men.

We enter the house and it’s the usual party scene, music playing from a sweet sound system, the living room packed. I accept a beer someone hands me, and Buck and I clink our bottles together in a celebratory toast.

“It’s only the first game,” he says.

“We made some mistakes,” I add. “But we can work on those things.”

“Yeah.”

Buck plays center and Coach put him and me on a line together for a while tonight, although he was switching things up and who knows what the regular lines will be, but I liked playing with him. I felt like we worked well together, and with more time we might have some great chemistry.

“Hi, guys!” A girl with long, dark hair greets us with tipsy enthusiasm. “Come on in! I’m Natalie!”

“Hey, Natalie. We’re friends of Barks. Er, Adam.”

“Ooh, you play for the Bears, don’t you?”

“Yep. Is Adam here?”

“In the kitchen.” She waves a hand.

Okay, this party is edging into crazy land. “What the f*ck is happening?” I mutter to Buck, gesturing. On one side of the living room, four guys have their shirts off.

He frowns. “Those guys are football players.”

“We’re having a hottest abs contest,” Natalie cheerfully tells us. “Excuse me, I’m one of the judges.”

“I give him eight out of ten,” a girl calls. A cheer erupts from some other onlookers.

“Eight,” Buck scoffs. “As if. Now, the guy on the end…he’s ripped.”

I pause to objectively assess the dude’s abdominal musculature and nod in agreement. “Yeah. I’d go up against him, though.”

“Keep your shirt on, Flash. Your soft, doughy abdomen won’t win you shit.”

I crack up. Soft and doughy. Bahahaha. “Speak for yourself, my beer belly buddy.”

He snorts.

We find the kitchen of the house, which is actually a similar layout to ours. Barks is there and he’s surrounded by girls. Sweet. He greets us and we join them. The girls are all pretty. Introductions are made.

“Why do you all call each other such funny names?” a girl named Angela asks.

I shrug. “Guess it’s a hockey tradition.”

“I love hockey.”

Yeah, I’ve heard that a time or six hundred. I’m experienced enough to know that often it’s not true. In the past, I’ve never really cared to differentiate between loving hockey and loving hockey players, because hey, female attention is goddamn nice. But since I’ve been at Bayard, I get this feeling of being…prey. Which is pretty weird, because I’m usually the one…er, preying.

“So what does make a blow job great?”

That catches our attention. We all turn to the girl who asked the question and exchange glances.

“Wet,” Buck interjects. “It has to be very wet. Too dry is painful.”

“But not sloppy wet,” Soupy adds. “That’s gross.”

I decide to contribute, against my better judgment. “The most important thing? The girl’s gotta enjoy it. Nothing hotter than a girl who loves giving head.”

A chorus of male agreement greets my words. “Oh, hell yeah. It’s a total turnoff if she looks like she’s being tortured by doing it.”

“Also, no teeth,” Rocket says.

“What?” The girl who asked the question looks confused. “No teeth? I thought guys like teeth.”

We all share a horrified look while silence falls.

“No,” Buck says decisively. “No teeth.”

“Oh my God.” The girl closes her eyes.

“Well, I don’t mind a little bit of teeth,” Rocket clarifies. “You know…maybe just a gentle scrape…”

“No wonder he told me to stop going down on him.” The girl shakes her head. I’m not sure who she’s talking about, but…ouch. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

We exchange glances again. “You know,” Soupy says, shifting closer to her, “maybe you just need some lessons…”

They move away from the group. My eyes go wide and meet Buck’s and we bust out laughing.

I try to mingle and talk to other people. I meet Colt, the quarterback of the Bayard Blazers, the football team. He wasn’t one of the guys in the abs contest. I’ve heard there’s a rivalry between hockey and football at Bayard, but this guy seems nice enough. He has a couple babes hanging around him laughing at everything he says and fluttering their eyelashes, but then another girl comes up and slides her arms around his waist, pressing her front to his side.

“Hey, this is my girlfriend, Addy,” Colt introduces us. “Addy, this is Jacob Flass. He plays for the Bears.”

I smile at her while the other girls turn their disappointed attention to me. Great. Now I’m second choice. Wait, I don’t want to be any choice. I want them to leave me alone. Colt and I were having a great discussion about NCAA sports.

I’m trying to make an escape, but somehow I end up with Angela again, who seems to be stalking me. The irony of this is not lost on me, that usually I’d be in heaven with all these college girls coming on to me, but now I’ve committed to not being that guy anymore. Somehow I hadn’t anticipated this.