COLTON
I take a sip of my coffee as I stare off into the distance. For some stupid reason, I’m never on time. I’m either early or late. No in-between. Sometimes it irritates me, but now I’m grateful to have a moment to myself. I need to think about my next steps.
When Benson warned me about the consequences of kicking the freshman out of the party, I honestly thought he was crazy. I had a problem with the girl, no one else. I refused to think that someone in their right mind would want to do something to her because of my hatred toward her. And yet, they did.
The scene from Friday still plays in my mind. Slushy, her eyes locked on mine, emitting fire, her vulnerability when she confessed that she doesn’t have any friends, and then again, her fury. This girl is something else, I swear. I have never met anyone like her. So stunning and so infuriating at the same time. I wanted to twirl her around and kiss her just as much as I wanted to spank her for her behavior. She’s unbelievable.
My phone dings with an incoming message, and I take it out of my pocket. Clay wants to know when I’m going to be back. Seven p.m. I answer him and tuck my phone away. I will be home before that; I just want to figure out what to do first. Obviously I need to stop this. The first year in college is nerve-racking enough. To have to deal with loneliness and people pretending they don’t notice you in addition?
No one deserves to feel like they don’t exist. Especially her.
“Colton?” I turn my head toward the sound of my name and see Dr. Stewart. He smiles at me, and I stroll over to him, throwing my paper cup into the trash can on the way. “It’s nice to see you.”
“Hey, Doc.” I shake his hand and take a step back. “How are you?”
“Everything is fine, don’t worry.” He nods, and we start walking. “How have you been? Don’t regret coming back?”
“No. I made a mistake, skipping a visit for no reason. I’m not going to do that ever again.”
“How is your dad? The last time I saw him was…” Dr. Stewart looks thoughtful. “Four months ago?”
“My father is okay. I don’t talk with him much.” More like never. I can’t forgive him, not that I try. I’m tolerating him—that’s the best way to describe what I feel for my own dad. Even if he would love for me to change my mind. I’m his only son, and he still has his hopes up about me taking his place in a few years.
“Colt, we have talked about this.” Dr. Stewart’s voice becomes softer, and I barely hold myself back from rolling my eyes. “You need at least one parent in your life, and without your mom in the picture…”
“He’s the only relative I have. I remember.” I finish his sentence for him. Every time he has an opportunity, he likes to bring this up. And it always ends with me promising to think about it. Which I never do.
“Okay, I give up,” he says. I shoot him a glance, and this time he laughs. “For today.”
“Didn’t expect anything less from you,” I say, watching as he opens the door for us.
“If I remember correctly, you have the first game of the season next week.”
“Yeah, on Saturday,” I confirm, suddenly realizing that this man knows more about me than my father. Not that it surprises me, but still, how fucked up is my life? “That’s why I wanted to be here today. There is no chance I can visit next week.”
“Let me guess. Another party after the game?”
I chortle loudly, shaking my head when I notice people glancing at us. “Yup, to celebrate our win, or drown our loss in alcohol.”
“I have no idea how you can drink and still play hockey the way you do.”
“I don’t drink much anymore.” My neck becomes hot. “If I go pro, I won’t be drinking anything at all.”
“At all?” Dr. Stewart smirks, and I nod with a serious expression on my face. “If you’re telling me the truth, then I’m immensely proud of you. Honestly.”
“Thank you.” I drop my gaze, feeling nostalgic. This man is like family already. The family I was robbed of because my father couldn’t keep his dick in his pants.
We stop near her room, and I literally hold my breath. What mood will she be in today? Will she remember anything we talked about last time? I put my hand on the doorknob and push. My heartbeat speeds up as soon as my eyes land on her sitting on her bed. I sneak a glance at Dr. Stewart and see him smiling warmly at me.
“You have three hours.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “It was nice seeing you, Colt.”
“You too, Doc.” He takes a step back and walks away from me. It’s time for me to see her. The reason I have been coming here for six months already.
Taking a deep breath, I step into the room and close the door behind me. I slowly stroll to the bed, then I stop and look down at her. She’s dressed in a simple floral dress, and her chestnut brown hair is collected into a neat bun. When she finally notices me, she focuses her gaze and smiles, setting the book she was reading aside.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Colton.” she exclaims as I lower myself onto her bed and hug her tightly. “I’m so happy to see you.”
“Me too, Mom,” I mumble, leaning away. “How are you?”
“Better now that you’re here.” She puts a palm on my cheek. “Each time I see you, you look manlier. Bigger. Taller. This stubble on your face. My God, baby, why are you growing up so fast?”
“That’s what college and hockey do to you, Mom,” I say, and she looks up at the ceiling. If anything, her mood today is the one I love the most. She is exactly herself, without a trace of depression.
Mom shakes her head as I avert my gaze. She was making huge improvements until three months ago, when things declined in just a week. Dr. Stewart is extremely careful with everything he says. I only hope the progress they are making on retraining her brain to help her memory will last. These baby steps are incredibly important for her recovery, so she can start remembering conversations and new people she meets. Hopefully it will keep her from feeling confused and disoriented.
“Colt?” I peer at her, sighing deeply and banishing my gloomy thoughts. “How are you? Tell me about your days.”
I smile, taking her palm in mine. She won’t remember everything I tell her, only some things if I’m lucky enough. “What do you want to know?”
“I’ve been in a mood lately,” she laughs heartily. “I watched one of my favorite movies, Serendipity, with Kate Beckinsale and John Cusack. So I’m all for romance. Do you have a girlfriend?”
I blink long and hard, totally dumbfounded. It’s not the question I expected, but okay, I can do that. “Sorry to disappoint, Mom. Hockey is the only crush I have.” Not that I’m lying. I have never loved anyone. I didn’t get the chance, I guess. Especially looking at my parents’ marriage, it was hard to believe in love. Or want a relationship.
“Baby…” Mom looks disappointed. “I can understand you focusing on hockey. It’s your life, your passion, and I admire you for that. But you’re a young man, and it’s impossible for me to imagine you totally alone. Girls have always loved you. Always. You’re such a beautiful boy, and I don’t believe even for a second there is no one on your mind.”
I hate myself for my thoughts. The freshman’s image pops into my head instantly and involuntarily. As if she lives there. I close my eyes, and her scent starts wafting around me. I’m momentarily back in the bathroom, bracing myself on the sink and framing her in my embrace. She has a perfect body, but her tits… Damn, her full boobs looked so good in her beige and pink bra that I was literally forcing myself not to stare. Even the glimpse I had was enough to make my dick rock solid. I want her so badly, like I’ve never wanted anyone in my life.
“Colton?” Mom’s voice is quiet, but it’s like a slap. It brings me back to my senses. I hate the way I react to that girl. It’s new to me, but it’s still bothersome. I don’t want to feel like that. I need to get it out of my system for good.
I have no idea how, but I need to forget her.
“Sorry, Mom, but I don’t have time for anything except hockey. If I want to prove I’m worthy of a place on the California Thunders, that’s it.” I smile and see her face relax. She pats my knee, looking apologetic.
“I’m sad to hear that, but I understand,” Mom murmurs, leaning closer. “Promise me something.”
“Whatever you want,” I quickly answer, eager to hear her out. It’s rare for her to be so smiley and cheerful. I love seeing her like this, because she reminds me of her old self, before shit went downhill. It’s precious.
“If you meet a girl you like, one who causes your heartbeat to speed up, who is constantly on your mind, day and night; one who stirs such strong emotions within you that it is hard to control yourself. If you meet a girl like that, promise me you will bring her here and introduce her to me.” My face drains of color. I’m speechless. “Please, Colt, it will mean the world to me. Promise me.”
I swallow the lump in my throat, blinking a few times to get rid of the state I am in. “O-okay. I promise.” No one knows my mom is here. I don’t let people get that close to me. Not even my best friend. How am I supposed to bring anyone to meet her? Especially a girl? I cross my fingers behind my back before I open my mouth and say, “I will.”
“Thank you so much, sweetheart.” She inches closer and plants a kiss on my cheek. I smile, my mind in total disarray. This visit is not how I envisioned it at all. And I’m not sure I like this sudden change. “Hmm, how about you tell me more about your days? How is hockey? Clay?”
I run my fingers through my hair, becoming pensive for a moment. I always need to be extra careful when I tell her about my days. It’s best to start with things that happen on a daily basis. A few times, when I reminded her about my previous visits, she almost had another breakdown. Her inability to remember certain things brings her down way more than anything else. It’s like a game of Jenga. One wrong move, and everything collapses.
I park my car near my apartment building, blinking in surprise when I see Clay, Layla, and her roommate, Grace. When he called me thirty minutes ago, he sure didn’t mention Benson’s sister. Why the hell are they here?
I climb out of my Lexus RX, crinkling my brows as I meet my best friend’s gaze. He shrugs, as if telling me it’s not his fault. I lock the car, and stroll in their direction. When I stop in front of them, I see Layla’s lips break into a smile. She’s literally beaming, while Grace looks moody. She doesn’t want to be here—and we’re on the same page since I want them gone too. Even Clay if he can’t get rid of the unwanted visitors.
“Hey,” I say, hiding my hands in my pockets.
“Hey, Thompson,” Grace mumbles under her breath.
“Hey, man.” Clay nods.
“Hey, Colt,” Layla greets me with a smile. “Where have you been?”
“Home,” I answer, and whip my head to Clay, looking at him expectantly.
“I was on my way to your place when I ran into them. They were bored and asked if they could join us.”
And you said yes?
“I was incredibly busy all week. Catching up on all my assignments took up a huge amount of my time,” Layla chirps. “So, I just hoped to have an opportunity to relax. Nothing else.”
“I thought Ava would be with you,” Clay comments.
Layla becomes sad; her smile fades away. “I’ve barely had time for Ava the past two weeks. I hoped to spend this weekend with her, but she left yesterday morning.” She glances at Clay. “She didn’t even tell me she was going home. I found out when I called her.”
So, she’s lonely. Her best friend is busy with her classes. Maybe now I can understand why she hid everything from her. It’s not a conversation she wants to have with her friend when they barely see each other. She probably wants to use those rare occasions to catch up and talk about nice things, not about idiots torturing her.
I need to make things right. She doesn’t deserve to be treated this way. Even if we don’t get along.
“Colt?” I look down and see Layla waving her palm in my face.
“Sorry. It’s been a long day,” I mutter, turning my head and peering at a pizza place. I don’t want to invite them into my apartment, but I don’t want to be rude. “How about pizza?”
“Sounds great.” Clay finally smiles. “Let’s go.”
I clear my head and decide to focus on right now, on walking toward the pizzeria. I can’t get rid of Layla and Grace without offending them. I can’t fix the situation for the girl and make people notice her. Not right now anyway. Yet a plan is forming in my head, and I can actually use Layla’s help. The freshman needs to be at the party next week.
