The Beautiful Game

Chapter Fourteen - Carter

"Don't talk about her like that."

"Like what? That's what happened wasn't it?"

"Carter, one day you'll get it man."

"Oh, please enlighten me." I head into the changing area, pulling my bag out my locker. Marcus just shakes his head and lets out a low laugh, drying off his hair.

"Nah dude, you're clearly not ready for it."

"So, you get some good pussy and suddenly you're the Dalai Lama?"

"You know what I'm ready for? Sleep." Seamus interjects.

"Fuck off Carter. If Ella hadn't suggested keeping things casual and group stuff I wouldn't even invite you, your view on dating is so warped."

"It's the exact same view on dating that you had, all of two seconds ago."

"Are you going to be a dick about this? I can just ask Tyler."

I pull my shirt on and look into my locker. Honestly, I thought the whole thing was ridiculous. It wasn't going to work, it couldn't. Marcus was just like me, whether he wanted to admit it to himself, we both used girls as a means to an end.

However, the thought of seeing Blondie, in that dive, pulling pistachio shells off the bottom of her shoes, it made me smile. Lou was way too uptight for Kings; the thought of her in there was too amusing for me to miss, hence why I turn to face Marcus with my hands up in surrender. I imagine how her cute nose would crinkle in disgust at the sight of it; how her deep blue eyes would widen, recoiling at karaoke and sloppy burgers.

"I'll come man, chill."

"And don't be a dick to her roommate." I let my head fall back in exasperation.

"I won't. We're friends now."

"Carter Hughes has a female friend?" Sanchez asks, he's pulling his compression socks up on the bench beside me.

"That's what he has to say, since she won't fuck him." Seamus calls. The playground titters break out around me again, relieved that the uncomfortable tension had dissipated, I slam my locker shut.

"I don't want to fuck her." Despite the effort to sound convincing, it still seems weak.

"Who is this girl?" Sanchez asks. I ignore the rising irritation at his interest.

"Lou Ri-" I cut him off.

"Seamus, get dressed or you're walking home." With that said, I walk out the changing rooms, ignoring the amused, curious looks exchanged between the guys close enough to hear.

***

The week had flown by. Practise was ruthless, Coach completely unforgiving due to our shitty start against Ohio State.

My usual professor was on vacation and our temp had a real hard on for tests. He'd blindside us with exams regularly, so most nights I'd studied like a bitch to keep up my A minus grade. Now the weekend was here, and instead of being at Beta Gamma Nu's party playing strip poker with the cheer team, we were sat in Kings.

Van Morrison's brown eyed girl crackles through the beat up jukebox as we sit drinking our beers in the dimly lit leather booth. There are some quiet, older regulars parked along the bar, their hands visibly dirty and clothes grimy from their construction work. Cheers and laughter echoes through the bar from some of Michigan's ice hockey team that surround the worn pool table in the back room.

Scott's bar was football territory, Kings was claimed by the men's hockey team, they'd simply nodded and raised their drinks to us as we'd walked in, showing mutual respect.

The girls haven't arrived yet and Marcus is nervously peeling off the label of his beer whilst Seamus shovels the dried spicy nut mixture into his mouth.

"They're late." Marcus scrunches his label into a ball. "She's not going to come."

"Stop panicking." Seamus manages to say through his full mouth. It's ten minutes past eight and Marcus has already moved on to peeling the label off of Seamus's beer bottle.

Marcus had been a nervous wreck all week, hawk eyeing his phone, distracted in practise; he wanted to call her but was scared of seeming too intense. He'd even paused a game of fucking call of duty if he got a notification she'd updated her Instagram story.

Ok, I'd looked at Lou's Instagram a couple of times, she'd accepted me the day after I'd seen her at the coffeehouse. It didn't mean anything; plus she never posted anything new. I just scrolled through her feed, always seeming to land on her Michigan acceptance photo, the look on her face, her smile.

The whole thing just seemed ridiculous and validated my point: dating was a fucking stupid distraction.

"If they're not here in five minutes then I'm ordering, I'm fucking starving." Seamus mutters, cracking his knuckles.

The small bell above the door rings out to signal the girls arrival. The small, curly haired blonde practically falls through the entrance, flushed and giggling, Ella and Blondie follow her in, smiling. Kate and Ella look dressed up for the night, both in heels and short skirts. Lou walks slightly behind them, in a large grey Michigan sweater, yoga leggings and black converse, her hair pulled up in a messy bun.

Fuck, she's beautiful.

The three girls capture the attention of every red blooded male in the place; the game of pool stops, the creak of rusted stools cut through the new silence as men swivel round to face them and a low whistle carries across the bar from from the old guy slumped, counting his change by the jukebox. The girls don't seem to notice the attention, or if they did, they chose to ignore it.

Kate leads them towards our booth, her heels clicking against the floor and pulling Ella by the hand. Blondie follows behind them, her blue eyes travelling around the bar, I can't help but smirk, God I bet she hates it already.

"Sorry we're late, Ella's not a good driver." Kate sits down beside Seamus, pulling the red scarf from round her neck. Seamus just grins, introducing himself officially to her.

"And Kate's not good at directions." Ella quips whilst sitting beside Marcus, the two of them awkwardly greeting each other. The last free space in the booth is across from me, Lou hesitates, looking from the seat, to my smirk, before rolling her eyes and sitting down.

The waiter, who smells like he's fallen into a bucket of tobacco, waddles over to take our orders. I must admit, the girls surprise me, they order a pitcher of beer to share and are unfazed by the lack of vegetables on the menu.

"Hello." I wink at her.

"Hi."

"You look... warm."