Homewrecker (lgbt hockey romance)

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– I'm bored, declared Alex, entering my room with an expression that I knew didn't herald anything good.

I turned a few page of my old Dickinson collection to my next annotation mark and wrote a few lines on the third draft of my American Poetry essay.

– Then read. Or do you want me to call a baby-sitter ?

She sat dramatically on my bed, ajusted the vinyles hanging on the wall, grabed a book in one of the wine crates fixed on the wall, then a second, and threw them both on the bed.

– I don't need a baby-sitter. I need fun. Which draft is that, anyway ? The fourth ?

– The third.

– You could already have handed the first and would have had an A+ anyway.

– Yeah, but I would like to get this one published in The Racoon.

– Who reads this old racoon anyway ?

– A lot of people, actually. Mrs. Fog, Jenny, you...

– I only ever read the humanities department papers when you're in it.

– You do know that Film Studies are in the humanities department, do you ? The Racoon has very interesting articles about –

– Tell me I can watch my Rhomers in there and I'll think about it. And I'm sorry baby, but I don't think you can call anything written by Merry-Jane Hortschild interesting.

– Her name is Mary-Jane. And you're exagerating. She's actually quite nice, when you take time to know her.

Alex smiled at me, the smile she had when she was about to convince me in taking part in a really terrible idea.

I sighted and closed the computer. I was almost finished, and I would still have time tomorrow before my Ancient Greek extra class.

– What new bad idea did you have today, princess Anastasia ?

Alex was short for Alexendra, which was short for Alexandrina Giselle Sloviev-Rostov. She was the daughter of a former russian oligarch's son, but not the wattpad-edgy type, the i-got-kicked-out-of-the-family-and-now-we're-broke type. Which didn't bother me. It was kind of cool being best friend with a girl who bore the same last name as the last russian emperor (and she spoke french!). Because her mother was Congolese, Alex had dark skin and lustrous, curly hair, with her father's blue eyes, which was absolutely stunning.

She smiled again, her crooked tooth showing : I'm gonna mary Han Caleb Wong.

I sighted, adjusting my low working ponytail to a higher one.

– Marriage is a bit fast. Are you even dating ?
She rolled her eyes with a disapointed nose.

– Firstly, I made a pinterest board with a dog that we're gonna buy compuslievly on our wedding trip to Italy and two kids that, after compulsievly deciding to stay in Italy, will be named Leandro and Sara, so, no, marriage is only the first step. And secondly, I didn't notice this room was actually a cave. It's time for you to get out and learn some basics about life on campus.

I tried gathering everything I knew about Han Caleb (but it seemed I was more informed about Pericles or Gaius Marcus than my own classmates). Star of Vermont College, great hockey player, he was majoring in medicine where he excelled...

– Wait, isn't that the guy who « isn't dating » ? The one you told me about ?

Alex raised her hand as a victory sign.

– Isn't dating. Isn't kissing. Isn't anything. This, my friend, sounds like a challenge.

– Or a Conan Doyle mystery. What if he isn't dating because he's too busy being the goat serial killer ?