Garrett
THE HOUSE SMELLS like an Italian restaurant when I walk through the door. I turn to Logan, who shoots me a WTF look, and I shrug as if to say fuck if I know, because I honestly don’t know. I bend down to unlace my scuffed black boots, then follow the mouthwatering aroma to the kitchen. When I reach the doorway, I blink like I’ve just stumbled upon a desert mirage.
Hannah’s sexy ass greets my eyes. She’s angled over the oven door, wearing Tuck’s pink oven mitts as she pulls a steaming pan of lasagna off the middle shelf. At the sound of my footsteps, she glances over her shoulder and smiles. “Oh, hey. Perfect timing.”
All I can do is gape at her. “Garrett? Hello?”
“You made dinner?” I sputter.
Her cheerful expression falters slightly. “Yeah. Is that okay?” I’m too stunned—and genuinely touched—to answer.
Fortunately, Dean appears in the doorway and answers for me. “Baby doll, that smells fantastic.”
Tucker trails in after Dean. “I’ll set the table,” he pipes up.
My three roommates lumber into the kitchen, Tucker and Dean going to help Hannah, while Logan stands beside me, looking amazed.
“She cooks too?” he sighs.
Something about his tone—well, not something, since it’s the unmistakable note of longing that causes my guard to shoot up ten feet. Fuck. He can’t actually be into her, can he? I figured he just wanted to sleep with her, but the way he’s looking at her right now…
I don’t fucking like it.
“Dude, keep it in your pants,” I mutter, which summons a chuckle from Logan, who obviously knows what I was thinking and my opinion about said thoughts.
“Shit, this looks amazing,” Tucker says as he stands over the lasagna dish with a knife and serving spatula.
The five of us settle at the table, which Hannah actually took the time to not only clean, but cover with a blue-and-white tablecloth. Aside from my mother, no female has ever cooked dinner for me before. I kinda…like it.
“So are you dressing up tomorrow?” Tucker asks Hannah as he heaps a modest-sized square of lasagna onto her plate.
“For what?”
Tuck grins. “Halloween, dumbass.”
Hannah lets out a groan. “Oh crap. That’s tomorrow? I swear, I have no concept of time.”
“My costume suggestion for you?” Dean chimes in. “Sexy nurse. Actually, fuck that, we live in the modern world—sexy doctor. Oooh, or sexy navy pilot.”
“I’m not dressing up as sexy anything, thank you very much. It’s bad enough that I’m stuck passing out drinks at the dorm crawl.”
I chuckle. “Shit, you got roped into doing that?” The annual Halloween dorm crawl involves people popping into a dorm, getting free drinks, and then moving on to the next building. I’ve heard it’s actually a lot more fun than it sounds.
She sticks out her chin glumly. “I did it last year too. It sucked. You guys better stop in at Bristol House if you’re planning on going.”
“I’d love to, gorgeous,” Logan says in a flirty tone that makes me stiffen. “Don’t expect G here to show up, though.”
She looks over at me. “You’re not going out on Halloween?” “Nope,” I reply.
“Why not?”
“Because he hates Halloween,” Dean informs her. “He’s scared of ghosts.”
I flip him the bird. But rather than own up to the real reason I hate October thirty-first with every fiber of my being, I just shrug and say, “It’s a pointless holiday with silly traditions.”
Logan snickers. “Says the Fun Police.”
Tucker finishes serving everyone, then sits down and shoves a fork into his lasagna. “Motherfucker, that’s good,” he mumbles between mouthfuls.
After that, all conversation ceases to exist, because the guys and I are ravenous after three hours of shooting drills, which means we’ve turned into cavemen. We waste no time demolishing the lasagna, garlic bread and Caesar salad Hannah made for us. And I mean demolishing. There’s barely half a serving left in the pan by the time we’re through with it.
“I knew I should have tripled the recipe,” Hannah says ruefully, staring at the empty dishes in wonder. Then she tries to get up to clear the table, at which point Tucker all but bodychecks her out of the kitchen.
“My mama taught me manners, Wellsy.” He gives her a stern look. “Someone cooks for you, you clean. Period.” His head swivels to the doorway just as Logan and Dean try to sneak out. “Where’re you ladies going? Dishes, assholes. G, you get a free pass since you have to drive our lovely chef home.”
In the hall, I plant my hands on Hannah’s waist and crook my neck to kiss her. “Why can’t you be taller?” I grumble.
“Why can’t you be shorter?” she counters.
I brush my lips over hers. “Thanks for cooking dinner. That was really sweet of you.”
A blush tints her cheeks. “I figured I owed you…you know…” The pinkish tinge darkens to red. “Because you’re a sex god and all.”
I chuckle. “Does that mean every time I give you an orgasm you’ll cook me a meal?”
“Nope. Tonight was a one-time deal. No more home-cooked meals for you.” She stands on her tiptoes and brings her mouth to my ear. “But I still get the orgasms.”
Like I could ever, ever say no to that.
“Come on, I’ll drive you back. You’ve got an early class tomorrow, right?” I’m surprised to realize that I actually know her schedule.
I’m not sure what’s happening between us. I mean, I agreed to help her with her sex problem, but…problem solved, right? She got what she wanted from me, and we didn’t even need to have sex to make it happen. So technically, there’s no reason for her to sleep with me. Or even keep seeing me, for that matter.
And me…well, I don’t want a girlfriend. My attention is and has always been focused solely on hockey, graduating, and the draft I’m planning on entering come graduation. Not to mention impressing the scouts who are
already starting to show up at our games. Now that the season is in full swing, this means more practices and games and less time to devote to anything—or anyone—other than hockey.
So why does the thought of not spending any more time with Hannah bring the oddest clench of regret to my gut?
She tries to take a step down the hall, but I tug on her hand and kiss her again, and this time it’s not a peck. I kiss her hard, losing myself in her taste and her heat and every damn thing about her. I never expected her. Sometimes people sneak up on you and suddenly you don’t know how you ever lived without them. How you went about your day and hung out with your friends and fucked other people without having this one important person in your life.
Hannah breaks the kiss with a soft laugh. “Get a room,” she teases. I decide it might be time to reevaluate my stance on girlfriends.
*
Hannah
“Bwahahahahaha! Happy Halloweeeeen!”
I turn away from the closet—where I was just in the process of trying to find a Halloween-esque outfit that’s not a costume because I fucking hate dressing up—and gawk at the creature gracing my doorway. I can’t make heads or tails of what Allie is wearing. All I see is a skintight blue bodysuit, lots of feathers, and…are those cat ears?
I steal Allie’s trademark phrase by demanding, “What on God’s green planet are you supposed to be?”
“I’m a cat-bird.” Then she gives me a look that says, uh-doy. “A cat bird? What is…okay…why?”
“Because I couldn’t decide if I wanted to be a cat or a bird, so Sean was like, just be both, and I was like, you know what? Brilliant idea, boyfriend.” She grins at me. “I’m pretty sure he was being a smartass, but I decided to treat the suggestion as gospel.”
I have to laugh. “He’s going to wish he suggested something less ridiculous, like sexy nurse, or sexy witch, or—”
“Sexy ghost, sexy tree, sexy box of Kleenex.” Allie sighs. “Gee, let’s just throw the word sexy in front of any mundane noun and look! A costume! Because here’s the thing, if you want to dress like a ho-bag, why not just go as a ho-bag? You know what? I hate Halloween.”
I snort. “Then why are you going to the party? You should go hang out with Garrett. He’s sulking at home tonight.”
“Really?”
“He’s anti-Halloween,” I explain, but saying it out loud doesn’t feel right.
I got the strangest feeling last night that he has a more serious reason for hating Halloween rather than just “it’s a pointless holiday.” Maybe something terrible happened to him many moons ago on Halloween night, like he got egged by hooligans when he was a kid. Oooh, or maybe he watched Halloween and was then plagued with nightmares that lasted for weeks, which is what happened to me when I watched my first and only Michael Myers movie at the age of twelve.
“Anyway, Sean’s waiting for me downstairs, so I’m taking off now.” Allie pops over and smacks a huge kiss on my cheek. “Have fun handing out drinks with Tracy.”
Yeah, right. I’m already regretting agreeing to help Tracy with the dorm crawl. I’m not in the mood to wait around all night for drunken college kids to wander into Bristol House so I can hand them drinks and Jell-O shooters. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I’m tempted to back out, especially when I picture Garrett at home by himself, scowling at his reflection in the mirror or throwing a tennis ball against the wall like they do in prison.
Rather than continue my search for a non-costume costume, I duck out of my dorm and walk across the hall to knock on Tracy’s door.
“Coming!” She appears nearly a minute later, running a comb through her curly red hair with one hand and applying white powder to her cheeks with the other.
“Hey,” she chirps. “Happy Halloween!”
“Happy Halloween.” I pause. “So listen…how badly will you hate me if I bail on the dorm crawl? And then when I add insult to injury and ask to borrow your car?”
Disappointment floods her eyes. “You’re not coming? Whhhhhhy?”
Shit, I really hope she doesn’t start crying. Tracy is the kind of girl who bawls at the drop of a hat, though in all honesty, I think her tears are of the crocodile variety because they always dry up way too fast.
“A friend of mine is having a bad night,” I say awkwardly. “He could use the company.”
She gives me a suspicious look. “And does this friend go by the name Garrett Graham?”
I smother a sigh. “Why would you think that?” “Because Allie said you guys are dating.”
Of course she did.
“We’re not dating, but yes, he’s the friend I’m talking about,” I admit.
To my surprise, Tracy breaks out in a huge grin. “Well, why didn’t you lead with that, dum-dum? Of course I’m going to let you off the hook if it means you get to go and fuck Garrett Graham! Note to you—I will be living vicariously through you, because Oh. My. God. If that hottie so much as smiled at me, my panties would probably melt away.”
I don’t want to touch even a single part of that response, so I ignore it altogether. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She waves a hand. “My cousin is visiting from Brown, so I’ll just recruit her.”
“I heard that!” a female voice shouts from inside the room. “Thanks for being so cool about this,” I say gratefully.
“No prob. Hold on a sec.” Tracy disappears, then comes back a moment later with her car keys dangling from her index finger. “Hey, so I don’t know how you feel about sex tapes, but if you get a chance, record every single thing you do with that boy tonight.”
“I most definitely will not.” I take the keys and grin at her. “Have fun tonight, babe.”
Back in my room, I grab my phone from the living room couch and text Garrett.
Me: U home?
Him: Yup.
Me: Bailing on the dorm crawl. Can I come by?
Him: Glad u came to your senses, baby. Get your ass over here.
