Turning Tables

I was drunk, and I knew it. Sure, I was telling anyone who would listen that I wasn’t drunk, but I’m not an idiot.

I was just acting like one.

My friends were nowhere to be found, and normally, I’d be freaking out. But right now, I knew they were probably having just as much fun as me.

I’m not big on the bar scene. All those bodies pressed against each other. Music loud enough to stop my heart. I wasn’t even 21 yet. But a fake had been forced on me, and now here I was. Frieda swore her cousin, whose ID I was now carrying, and who was definitely Indian, looked just like me in the picture.

“She looks super Asian in that picture,” she’d said. “And you’re Wasian. It totally works.” I was a little scared, but the bouncer barely glanced at the ID before ushering me into the bar.

Plus, summer would be over in two weeks, and I wanted to make the most of it before starting my senior year of college.

Clad in a white cut out mini dress, I was getting a lot of free drinks, and I was totally starting to understand why everyone under 21 had a fake. My light brown hair was sticking to my sweaty forehead, but I just brushed it back and shook it out a little.

I was way too drunk to care. I just kept dancing, grinding against guys that came up to me, drink in hand, telling me how beautiful I looked. I wished I had gotten a fake sooner.

Breathing hard, I squeezed myself in between all the grinding, writhing and sweaty bodies, trying to find my friends. A quick glance at my phone told me it was close to 3 a.m.

I could feel the first signs of drowsiness hit me. I discarded the plastic cup I was holding even though it was still halfway full. I knew I was drunk, and I knew my limits.

I stumbled on my hot pink heels as a burly guy went past me. I teetered and spun around before falling smack dab into someone’s lap.

That someone was Tyler Sequin.

Holy crap.

How had I lived in Boston for almost three years and still not run into him or any other players?

Oh, right. I never went out. And I didn’t really like hockey. The only reason I recognized him was because of all the times his face popped up in the papers. He was always with a girl or two. I think he dated a Playmate once.

I smiled brilliantly in my drunken stupor, and he smiled back, righting me but not pushing me off. There was a whole group of scantily clad girls sitting around him at one of those plastic circular couches. He was right on the edge.

They did not look happy to see me.

“Hi,” I said. “I’m Lucy, so nice to meet you.” I stuck out a hand, and he took it, amused.

“Tyler,” he humored, “Nice to meet you.” He didn’t let go of my hand, and I didn’t mind it. I could practically hear the other girls breathing intensified.

“I think we’re soul mates,” I went on. What the hell? That was a new one.

Oh god, I needed to leave and chug some water. Now.

His eyebrows went up. Way up. “We are?”

“Mm hmmmmmm,” I hummed, smiling some more.

He cocked his head. “How do you figure?”

“Oh, I know,” I stated confidently. “I can feel it. In here.” I removed my hand from his and placed it firmly on my chest.

I was so drunk.

“Ah, I see,” he said, grinning now. I grinned back like an idiot.

“Totally,” I thrilled. All right, time for me to go. “But I got to go find a pillow now.” And with that, I pushed myself off of his lap and onto my ridiculously bright heels. I started to move away at the relief of the girls when Tyler grabbed my hand. I turned to face him, still smiling.

“But I thought we were soul mates?” He asked. His hand was big and warm and sturdy as it held mine.

“I’m so glad you’re finally catching on!” I chimed. “But we’ll see each other again. Soon. That’s what soul mates do!” That was a load of crap. But I needed to pass out.

Like ten minutes ago.

So I had to get out of there. I knew what I was missing out on though. I mean, Tyler freaking Sequin looked like he was ready to take me home.

And I so would’ve have obliged.

Except I was going to pass the fuck out any second now.

Thus, just so I’d have something to remember this night by (if I remembered anything at all), and just maybe, so he’d remember me, I did something I’d never done before, whether it be sober or drunk or otherwise.

I bent down and leveled myself with him, and then I gave him a quick, light kiss on the lips. I didn’t even close my eyes, I just did it.

Then I hightailed it out of there, because those girls looked like they were about to claw my eyes out.

I kissed Tyler Sequin.

Me.

Holy shit.

…..

I woke up, tangled in the sheets of a hotel room that wasn’t mine. I didn’t remember much, but I knew I was still in Boston.

A blonde head was snuggled in the crook of my arm, but I didn’t remember her name.

I did remember Lucy, though. How could I forget someone like that? She was earing a short white dress with pieces of it cut out, exposing a section of pale white skin here and there. She had flirted, kissed me, and then walked away.

No girl has ever walked away from me before. Or kissed me like that. It was usually a sloppy, slippery kiss full of tongue. And I’d be too drunk to notice. Or, if the girl was shy, then there was a lot of grinding and a couple of shots before they would chance a kiss on the lips.

But this butterfly of a kiss was so unprecedented; I didn’t even have time to comprehend what was going on. I mean, I’d had lots of kisses. And great, memorable ones that weren’t always on my lips. But this kiss, I knew, was one I wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

I wanted her so bad, as soon as she fell into my lap and giggled, telling me we were soul mates. I was about to forget all those other, predictable girls at the table and take this one home with me.

Girls get so catty around me, even best friends who’ve known each other long before I came into the picture. It was always one remark after another, putting each other down for my benefit. Like “Amber, you used you be fat, remember? That was so funny!” Or “Hailey, remember what a dork you were in middle school?”

They laughed along, meanwhile staring daggers at each other, vying for my attention. Lucy didn’t seem to care that a group of girls wanted to gouge her hair out. She just focused and flirted with me like we were the only two people in the bar.

It drove me crazy.

And then she’d walked away, her hips swaying back and forth.

In the end, I’d taken a blonde back to her hotel room, but the entire time I was with her, I thought of Lucy. When the blonde was under me, on top of me, I thought of Lucy and pretended it was her. I did this a lot, but it was usually a hot supermodel I’d met at a party whose number I’d lost. It was never a girl who’d fallen into my lap in a bar.

I wanted her, and I always get what I wanted. I decided then and there that I would find her, no matter what.

…..

“I can’t believe you’re interning for a hockey team,” Molly said, taking a bite of her apple. We’d woken up an hour ago in various states of undress.

I had woken up, blinking in the bright sunlight that peeked through the curtains directly across from my bed. Frieda was face down next to me. A quick survey of the room confirmed that all my friends were accounted for. Heather was sprawled out on the couch and Molly was curled up under the coffee table, her sleeping bag completely ignored two feet from her.

Now, we sat around my tiny dining table in the small studio apartment I could barely afford, eating everything and anything with carbs in it to rid ourselves of our hangovers. They’d driven up to Boston from Virginia to visit me, and I was glad we’d all gone out last night.

I had had the best dream ever, and I just knew when I woke up that I was getting the position I’d apply for as a Public Relations intern for the Boston Bruins. Sure enough, I got the call just ten minutes ago, screaming after I’d hung up. My resume needed as much fluffing up as possible if I was going to go to graduate school.

“You know next to nothing about hockey,” Heather added unhelpfully, spooning cereal into her mouth. “How the fuck did you pull this off?”

I was a great bull shitter, that’s how. I’d somehow managed to convince the PR rep who had interviewed me to hire a Global Health major as their new PR intern. It was Global Health, it applied to everything and everyone, including hockey.

I’d also done extensive research of the team, and the rep had been more than impressed with my knowledge of the Bruins, a team I had never even seen in action. I hadn’t expected to get the job, but took a swing at it anyway.

Now that I’d gotten the job, it was a little too late to worry about my next to nothing knowledge about the sport.

Besides, I start next week. I’d just have to go with it.

…..

I showered after practice and wrapped a towel around my waist. Julien had made us do a billion suicides and I was ready to change and go out with the guys and just get drunk off my ass. They were all gone, since I’d taken my time in the shower, letting my aching muscles soak in the hot water.

I turned the corner, heading back to the locker room when someone smacked right into me. I caught the girl before she went flying.

It was her. All long and lithe and in my arms.

No fucking way.

I smiled as recognition dawned over me. She looked up, smiling apologetically.

“Sorry,” she said, untangling herself from me. She narrowed her eyes at me, frowning little. She shook her head before moving past me.

“Lucy!” I called. There was no way this girl didn’t remember me. She whipped around, suspicious.

“How do you know my name?” she asked, her brows knitted together. She was wearing tight dark jeans and a black blazer over a white tank, stretched tight across her chest.

“We met at a bar last weekend…?” I prompted, frowning myself. No one walked away from Tyler Sequin, and no one forgot about meeting him. Unless they were drunk, I guess, which she sorta was.

Her hands flew to her mouth. “Shit!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t hit on you, did I?” I grinned, she had definitely been drunk. We could have had so much fun back at my place. It was definitely not too late though. She was here now, at the Garden.

“Yeah, you did,” I confirmed as she smacked her forehead. She looked just as good in jeans as she did in that little white dress of hers.

“Did I propose?” she asked, horrified, eyes wide. I laughed, amused at this strange girl.

I shook my head. “Nope. But you said we were soul mates.” She visibly relaxed at that answer. I moved a little closer to her. The hallway was empty, and I planned on taking advantage of it.

“Oh good,” she breathed. “That’s a new one, but at least I didn’t serenade you.”

I raised my eyebrows. I guess I wasn’t the only one this girl hit on. “Oh yeah? How’d that go?”

She smiled smugly. “Pretty good from what I remember.” So she did this often. But she’d gone home with the guy. Why didn’t she go home with me? I moved in some more, and she was completely pressed against the wall. Now she looked amused.

“Why didn’t you go home with me?” I asked bluntly, looking down at her. Her large, grey, almond eyes blinked up at me. She smiled coyly and placed a palm on my bare chest, I shuddered at her touch.

“I’m late,” she declared, pushing me gently back. She moved away from the wall, dragging her hand slowly off of my chest. Instinctively, I placed a hand over hers and held on.

It was the second time I’d held her hand in the span of a week, and I barely knew her. They say history repeats itself, and in the empty hallway, it did. She stared up at me through thick, dark lashes and then leaned in, kissing me again. This time there was more pressure, but it was still a barely there kiss that left me wanting more.

“I work here.” And then she was gone.

Again.