Anatomy of a Player(4)

By: Cindi Madsen


After a bathroom break, I stumbled back toward the group, but stopped short when I caught sight of a blonde with a killer ass. Her jeans were blessedly tight and the glittery designs on her back pockets begged to be stared at and studied.

With the lights dimmed, and as much alcohol as blood buzzing through my system, it was hard to fully make out her features, but from what I could see of her profile, she had the face to match. She swayed her hips to the beat of the music that pumped through the room, and my heart gave a hard thump. Something about that girl said she’d be far from easy. That she’d make me forget everything for a while, even my own name.

I ran a hand over my face, trying to shake away the haze that dragged my limbs down and made walking a challenge. I wished for skates, because at least the ice helped you glide. While I’d probably fall on my face if I got anywhere near a hockey rink right now, the bonus of crashing on ice was it’d be right there to numb the pain.

Then again, I felt pretty damn numb right now.

Finally I made it to the sexy blonde and tapped her on the shoulder. I grinned when she spun around, but she didn’t crack even a hint of a smile. “What?”

Definitely not easy, and my blood zinged with the challenge. “I’m Hudson.” Whoa. Little swaying right there. I did my best to hold still, but the room was tilting again.

“I’m not interested,” she said, then she turned back around and said something to her redheaded friend. The friend seemed familiar, but she was facing the other direction, and I couldn’t focus on her with the many other thoughts drunkenly crashing through my head. All of them agreed that the blonde needed to be our main focus—girls like her didn’t come around every day.

“I was afraid this was a bad idea,” she muttered. I wasn’t even sure her friend had heard her, or if the blonde hottie was purposely talking to herself. “I’m just not ready to deal with it, despite trying to dance it off and being on my second crazy-strong drink. In fact, I’m thinking—”

I tapped her on the shoulder again, and she gave an exasperated sigh before glancing at me.

“How about you and I get a drink? You know what they say…” I winked, which I didn’t think was part of my usual repertoire, but it came out anyway. “Three’s the charm—I’ll make sure of it.”

“Look, buddy, the amount of alcohol it’d take for me to sleep with you tonight would kill me. So you might as well move on.”

I laughed, which was apparently the wrong move, because she said something about how she never should’ve come, then grabbed her friend’s arm—even though the girl had been talking to someone else—and walked away, melting into the crowd.

I wasn’t sure how long I stood there staring at the place where she’d disappeared, but the next thing I knew Dane was all up in my grill, waving his hand. “Bro, you’re so wasted. Remember how we agreed to go easy so we wouldn’t be totally hung over at tomorrow’s practice? Coach is going to kill us.”

“Be fine by practice,” I muttered, not sure if the words had come out right.

“Do you even know where you are?”

I knew where I was, but the rest of my mind was pretty blank, which was exactly what I’d wanted since the start of this sucky day.





Chapter Three


Whitney


I readjusted my bra so the push-up pads had maximum effect and then felt to check that my jeans weren’t gaping in the back. Thanks to my Kardashian-esque booty that exercise didn’t touch, finding the right pair of jeans was like finding a college guy who wanted to be in a long-term relationship.

I wanted to believe they existed—the commitment-ready guys, that is, since I’d discovered that for the right eye-bulging price I could find jeans with cool designs on the pockets which hugged and flattered and came pretty damn close to perfection—but right now it felt like I’d have a better chance at running into a unicorn on campus.

It’d been just over a week since Trevor had shown his true colors. Going to the party with Lyla and Beck only showed me there were more guys exactly like him ready to take his place. The intoxicated, tattooed dude who’d hit on me might’ve been ridiculously hot, but for once I hadn’t fallen for a cocky smile and a line. At the time I’d been too involved in my personal pity party to appreciate my fortitude, but by the time Lyla and I had our girls’ night, the thought buoyed me up and led me to a huge decision.