“Seraphina was okay at ASU without you,” I remind him, trying to set his mind at ease. “I’m sure she’ll be fine at Boyd. From what I know, it’s a lot tamer here than it is there.”
He sighs, shaking his head. “Maybe so, but I’ll have gray hair by the end of the semester at this rate. She’s such a goddamn handful.”
Chase isn’t wrong. Until recently, all of my problems were hockey related. Now, as Seraphina giggles on the other side of the room in her should-be-illegal scrap of fabric, I have ninety-nine more. And they’re all the words “Seraphina Carter” repeated ninety-nine times.
CHAPTER 7
HISTORICALLY ACCURATE
SERAPHINA
I’m never listening to Abby again.
Thanks to her, I’m wearing a lavender dress that’s more like a shirt. She assured me over FaceTime that it was perfect, but I discovered only too late that I can’t sit without the possibility of giving onlookers a peek at my Victoria’s Secrets. It wouldn’t be as big of a deal at a club, but it’s inconvenient at a house party. What am I supposed to do, remain awkwardly standing all night?
Fully worth it to see the way Tyler’s jaw dropped when saw me in this dress, though.
“I’m going to marry her.” Chase leans a shoulder against the stainless refrigerator, watching his girlfriend Bailey on the other side of the room.
Those are four words I never thought I’d hear leave his mouth. But times have changed, because the birthday boy is a little drunk, a lot in love, and the result is pretty endearing—even for him.
A grin tugs at my cheeks. “Oh yeah? When are you going to do that, Romeo?” Seeing my hulking, trash-talking, pain-in-the-ass brother whipped over a girl is so amusing it almost takes my mind off my wardrobe miscalculation.
“As soon as she’ll let me.” Chase shifts to face me, tilting his head. “What about you? Were you dating anyone back at ASU?”
This is further confirmation he’s several drinks deep. Generally, my brother would prefer to pretend that I lead the love life of a nun. Deep down, he knows that isn’t the case, but the denial seems to help him sleep at night.
“Single as a Pringle. Same as always.” I haven’t had a boyfriend since starting college, nor have I wanted one. Based on what I’ve seen of my friends’ experiences, college guys get complacent, gradually putting in less and less effort until you both resent each other and even the sex becomes a chore. It strikes me as a waste of time and energy, at least in this phase of my life.
I have, however, had a generous handful of hookups and a couple situationships. I doubt my brother wants to hear about those.
“Just stay away from the team,” he mutters, bringing his amber bottle of beer to his lips. “Most of them are assholes to chicks.”
There we go. The reason for this line of questioning has suddenly become crystal clear. Overprotective big brother mode: Activated.
“That won’t be a problem. I’m not into athletes, especially hockey players.” My cheeks heat, and I take a sip of my vodka Sprite to hide my face. While this claim is historically accurate, it feels borderline dishonest right now. They must put something in the water at Boyd because at least half the guys on my brother’s team are hot. In addition to Tyler, they have a new transfer who looks like he could moonlight as a male model. He’s a gazillion feet tall, has tousled sun-streaked hair, and a dimple in his cheek to die for.
That’s not to say I’m interested in the new guy. My brain has already been hijacked by Hades, his heavily tattooed counterpart. Still, a girl can appreciate nice things.
“That’s right,” Chase says. “I forgot you like pretty boys.”
“No, I don’t.” The hem of my dress rides up for the umpteenth time and I tug it down, wishing I had some kind of double-sided tape.
He cocks a brow but says nothing. Just gives me that “you’re full of shit” look that he’s perfected over the past two decades as my older brother.
“Maybe it’s a little true,” I amend. There’s definitely a common theme to my past hookups. Clean-cut and preppy; probably belongs to a frat; drives something ostentatious; bound for an overpaid professional position after college thanks to parental nepotism. I’m not sure why I keep gravitating toward that type when it’s like thirty-one flavors of disappointment in the bedroom. There’s a reason my nightstand drawer is fully stocked. Either I have to provide explicit, step-by-step directions like some kind of sexual GPS, or I give up and resort to taking matters into my own hands after the fact.
Mind you, there’s one noteworthy exception to this rule—and he’s sitting ten feet away.
Upon further reflection, I think I’ve got a new type.
“Are you sure you’ll be okay while we’re away next month?” Chase furrows his brow, scrutinizing my face like he doesn’t believe I’ll answer him honestly. “You could stay at Bailey and Shiv’s if you want. Or go see mom. She’d like that.”
“Can’t I just stay here?” I’m not clear on why he’s asking this. He’ll be out of town for several away games before this trip, and I’ll be by myself then, too. Does he not trust me without his supervision? Thinks I’ll throw a kegger in his absence?
He lifts a shoulder. “Wasn’t sure you’d want to be alone with Tyler. Don’t get me wrong, he won’t do anything out of line, but I get it if you’d rather take off for the weekend. I’m sure he wouldn’t be offended.”
Oh… shit.
Naturally, I hadn’t given much thought to my brother’s upcoming romantic getaway, which means I also hadn’t considered the implications of him and Dallas both being gone: two whole nights alone with Tyler. Just me and the highly tattooed sex god I hooked up with on Halloween. No big deal. Perfectly normal, everyday situation.
“How come he isn’t going with you guys?” I ask, playing dumb. Chase is more loose-lipped when he’s drunk, and I’m hoping he’ll give me some dirt to help fill in the blanks. What good is an older brother if you can’t exploit him a little for investigative purposes?
“Ty? On a couple’s trip?” He barks a laugh. “Tyler doesn’t date, Sera. He mostly just fu—” he catches himself before he finishes saying what we both know he was about to say. Why, I’m not sure. I’m not innocent, and it’s not like I have virgin ears. “He’s more of a hookup kind of guy. But he hasn’t been doing that lately, either.”
“Oh. I wonder why.” Now I’m really pushing the envelope, but it’s a chance I’m willing to take. I’m dying to know the answer.
Chase snorts, rolling his eyes. “Who knows? He’s a moody fucker sometimes.”
Bzzt. Thanks for nothing, elder sibling. I wanted the tea, not a glass of lukewarm tap water. The term “moody” could be used to describe the majority of guys I know.
That men somehow managed to convince the world women are the emotional sex is the biggest scam of all time.
“Speaking of moody.” I gently touch his arm to draw his attention away from Bailey again. “How have you been?”