~Beckham~

Confusion. That’s what I would say I felt when Luca upped and left, two minutes after we had sex. It’s not as if I was looking for some cuddles and a possible morning-after. In fact, I am well acquainted with how one- night stands go. I might even know a thing or two that most people don’t. Also, no shame in admitting that this is the first time a girl’s walked out on me without me asking her to and I am the one being left behind. Okay, maybe I am a little ashamed because that meant I was the one doing the leaving behind and I wonder if those girls felt a little demeaned, like I did.

“Where’s the fire?” I ask her with what I hope is a nonchalant chuckle, pushing off the bed to get my pants on. It didn’t quite feel right to be the only naked person in the room, anyway.

“Nowhere,” she replies, unbothered. After she pulls the top over her head, she turns around completely dressed. “Unless you’re taking euphemistically about soreness? Then yeah, my genitals are kinda on fire now.” I can’t help but smile at that. She stands there for a moment staring at me before rushing over to press a chaste kiss to my cheek. 

“I had a really good time.” Her voice is soft with a hint of rasp to it that makes it’s husky and sweet at the same time that I don’t even think is possible. 

“Me too.” She nods and then disappears like she had never been there to begin with. 

“Hey man,” Seb interrupts me as he takes a seat next to me on the dining table, a pair of dark shades in place, hand clutching his temple. There is a permanent grimace etched on his face. Battling a slight hangover of my own, I nod before shoving the pancakes Jay made this morning, before going for a run, down my throat. 

“Why are the lights so bright?” he whines, dramatically dropping his head down his folded hands, looking every bit hungover that he should be. I lost count of how many he downed last night.

“The lights are just fine. Shut up and suck it up!” I retort, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge before throwing it at him without actually looking. Guilt wracks me when it hits him on the side of his head and he yelps! “Fuck you, Hayes.”

Looking down at my groin, I tease, “Someone already did. You’re a tad too late, man.”

“Well, someone got a piece of your dick royalty last night. How did that go?”

“We are not discussing my sex life, Torres.”

“You bet my ass we are. I did my best to make sure you got a piece of that perky, little goalkeeper ass.” Suddenly he doesn’t look so hungover anymore and I wonder if it’d be fair for me to beat him up like I’ve been wanting to since I watched Luca walk out. 

Sure, I was curious about her. That save from Laura? That only made me want to know more about this mystery girl who turned up from Yale, one month into the semester. Did that mean I wanted to sex her up? Maybe. Did Seb have to be an idiot and dare me to make-out with her? Absolutely not. Ideally, I would have thanked him for the move, given that I was interested in this girl, but with the way things actually panned put, I only want to whack him for messing with my balance.

Rolling my eyes, I try to avoid him by focussing on drinking the hot coffee when Seb refuses to let up, “So, tell me, man. How was it with Luca Ackerman?” 

“What do you think happened? We had mind-blowing sex, like it is always with me.”

Seb smirks. “Narcissist. Then?”

“Then?” I tilt my head. “She walked out like her perky, little goalkeeper ass was on fire,” I repeat my best friend’s description.

My handsome friend frowns like he doesn’t know what I’m on about. “And you’re making that sound like the most horrible thing that could have happened to you because?” 

“I-” I hesitate. I am still kind of bitter about last night. It’s stupid because it totally saved me from being the dickhead that walked out first, but somehow, I feel sour on being left behind. I’m not sure what about the entire ordeal, though and I’m most definitely not a fan of my own medicine. Maybe it’s the bruised ego. 

“A girl who knows what she’s getting into and avoids post-coital awkward conversations? Sounds like a dream to me, B!” he observes and I happen to agree with him, except this feeling of embarrassment won’t go away. 

“Right?” 

Seb narrows his eyes at me and gives me short nod. “Right.”

~

Groaning, I pick my shit up before heading to the class that we’ve been directed to through mail, a different Marketing class, one I had purposefully avoided so that I can take Walter’s alternative. I’ve heard so many things about Ms. Greene and her general bitchiness, so clearly, I had a reason to skip out on her. However, none of that mattered now because she’s stepping in for Walter, since he broke his leg. Thankfully, there weren’t too many changes in the schedule because that is the last fucking thing I need with hockey demanding my time and attention. Her classroom is not any different than Walter’s and so I blindly climb the stairs between the rows of desks when I spot her sitting in the last row, near the window, looking out.

With no questions asked, I cross the aisle to sit down next to her, drawing her attention with a loud huff and the heavy thump of my bag hitting the floor. Her eyes pop in surprise but settle just as fast before a small smile appears on her face. “Hey!” I greet her, digging my bag for a book even though I know that no note taking will take place. 

Before she could respond, Greene walks in, a frown on her face, clearly not very pleased with the arrangement. She lets that go and begins to set up for her class when Luca speaks, eyes still on the front of the class, “Nearly a month here and I don’t see you and the minute I sleep with you, you’re in my class.”

“Walter’s out. I guess we’ll be sharing this class until he comes back,” I inform her with a grin. Turning my way, she fakes a smile and says, “Oh, the joy!” It’s sarcastic but it’s kind of hard to take offence when you look the way Luca Ackerman does. 

I smile despite myself and whatever went down between us three days ago. Her striking pink hair is in a low messy bun, more hair out of it, than in it and she’s wearing an oversized plaid shirt over a tank and short shorts. She’s looking relaxed, but just as alluring as she did in those party clothes of hers. 

She begins to restlessly tap the back of her pen against her book that she has laid out over her table, her bottom lip being thoroughly tortured between her teeth. She then turns to me and asks, “Walter takes a Marketing class too, right?”

“Yep.”

 “You’re a business major?” Before I even answer, she rolls her eyes to heaven and back and says, “That’s what we need more of. Business major jocks!” 

That’s probably one of the most judgemental statements I have heard in a while, and that’s saying a lot because I’ve heard quite a few in my lifetime, but I hear her sentiment. College athletes do lean towards studying business and so do I. Just not in the way she thinks I do.

“It’s English Lit, actually,” I inform her, directing my own gaze to front of the class when I hear Greene starting up her lecture. “My major, that is. Which you would know if you’d talked to me at all the day we slept together.”

She visibly bristles and it’s obvious she hates being called out. “We talked plenty in my opinion and that happens to be the one thing that didn’t give me an orgasm. So, I don’t see the point of doing it.” 

“People do it all the time to make friends, Luca. You should try it sometime,” I say, then realise how harsh it sounds despite my light, airy tone. It makes me sound bitter, but even though I am, I don’t want her to know it.

“Didn’t know you were the clingy type,” she fires back, this time turning to look me in the eye. “Don’t you wham, bam, thank you ma’am girls and puck bunnies? Or is that only supposed to be a male athlete thing and somehow wounds your man-ego when you

are on the receiving end of it?”

Right when I’m about to retort, Greene decides to call us out, deciding to humiliate us with the age-old, nasty professor tactic that’s called share with the class. Fuck you, bitch. “Mr. Hayes, Ms. Ackerman. The two of you apparently have a lot of things to discuss between yourselves about Porter’s Five Forces. Care to share it with the class?”

Luca squeezes her eyes shut, slinking into her seat with an embarrassed expression. “Gawd, that was the last thing I needed!”

I speak for the both of us when I mumble, “Sorry!” to which the old hag shakes her head and mutters, more like doesn’t even attempt to, because she meant for us to hear it, “This college’s jock privilege is getting out of hand!” with a shake of her head. 

Luca and I spend the rest of the class in silence, with us passing each other glances. Guilt eats at me slightly when I realise that the first time I share a class with her, I had gotten her into trouble with the professor. If Walter magically shows up earlier in the semester I will be transferred back to him, but Luca might not have that privilege. I can only hope Professor Bitchiness will forget this happened all together. When the said professor lets us to do our own readings after yapping on for a whole thirty minutes, I break the unspoken, but mutually agreed upon silence. “I’m sorry.”

Luca looks up from doodling on the pages of her notebook, shuts it and gives me a sidelong peer that makes her lashes look thick, dark and luscious. “Does that mean,” I generally gesture to the front of the class where Greene is currently seated chatting with the front benchers, “-I am not allowed to sit with you anymore during class?”

She shrugs. “I couldn’t care less, Beckett.” Ouch.

I frown. “It’s Beckham.”

When she cocks her eyebrows, I know she didn’t mean that. Narrowing my gaze at her I ask, “You knew my name, didn’t you?”

She shrugs again. I notice she does that when she doesn’t want to talk. But I want to. I want to talk to her. “Come on, LJ. I don’t have any of my friends in this class. You’re the only one I know. Also, I am trying to be nice to the college newbie!”

“Sleeping together, once-” she emphasizes on the once like I might forget it and continues,
“-does not make me your friend, Beckham.” And then pointedly adds, “And, my name is Luca.” While her words sound extremely pissed, but her eyes? Not so much. She looks merely curious where I got LJ from. 

“First off, I said you’re the only one I know. Never mentioned anything about us being friends. Too quick to assume, huh?” Rolling my eyes, I simply tilt my head in the direction of the front of her notebook. Luca Jean is scripted fancily on the front page. That’s where I got the LJ from. “Secondly, Luca Jean, right?”

The bell rings right about that moment and I push on to my feet. “Nice meeting you, LJ.”

“It’s Luc-”

“Bye, LJ.”

~Luca~

He’s so fucking infuriating, I swear. The entitlement is real. He’s everything Jamie had described him to be and then some more. He’s flirty, charming, hot and a Casanova, while having a smooth tongue. In all ways. Shut up, gutter brain. She hadn’t mentioned jackass, though. 

If he hadn’t been one of the best lays I’ve had in a while, I would have kneed him in the nuts the minute he called me LJ. That’s some precious commodity, I suppose, for the lack of better words. 

Here’s the thing, Beckham is fucking hot. He’s great in bed and he’s also apparently smart, considering his Lit major. He’s playful and laidback, something that I happen to enjoy in men but I don’t do repeats. It always gets complicated and that’s the last thing I need in life. 

And even if I did, Beckham is far from being considered. He’d been the temporary minute of fun and relief that I needed and that’s all he’ll ever be. But that doesn’t mean I don’t look because the minute he walks into the school cafeteria, my treacherous eyes are drawn his way. The girls around me ‘ah and ooh’ at his entourage that includes Sebastian and his blond best friend whose name I didn’t quite catch at the party. No surprise there because he happens to be the most low-key amongst all of them even though he can give a run for the other two in the looks department. Girls gather around them like flies around shit and that’s my cue to look away. 

All my peace is sucked away when Jamie and Ellie join me in my table though. “You didn’t think you can eat alone, right?” the Korean-American defender asks with a grin on her face.

“I try,” I deadpan because that is the truth. I try, every day. A lot of trying and a whole lotta more failure with these two. I don’t do friends. I don’t have the time, patience or energy to forge such relationships in my life that could be fleeting. The only relationships I invest myself is my family and I have my own reasons for it. I’m not the kind that is dependable either, making me the whole poster girl for the anti-friend package. I am the physical embodiment of unapproachable, but that doesn’t waver the two people sitting in front of me. It makes me wonder why, but I long learnt not to question too many things.

“And we’re still here, Ackerman. You might as well get used to it.” Jamie picks up two pieces of carrot from my salad and stuffs it into her mouth.  Before she can get her hands on more of my food, I slap the hands of my roommate away. “And why is that?”

“It’s called being friends, something that looks like might sound foreign to you, woman.” I shrug, tossing one of the lettuce pieces into my mouth. I would have really liked that well-done steak they had on the menu today, but of course with the season approaching, that’s an indulgence I can’t afford.

“Hey, beautifuls!” Seb greets, sidling up next to Ellie even though there is plenty of space in the table. He casually throws an arm around her chair, pulling her close whilst pressing a kiss to her temple. I don’t even think they realise what they’re doing, but they do it every time. It’s cute, really. Just because I don’t do relationships, doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate one. Except, Seb and Ellie aren’t together and I swear even the universe is trying to figure out why! 

He directs his gaze and me and says, “LJ, Beckham-.”

“It’s Luca,” I bite.

Shrugging, Seb continues as if I just did not interrupt him, “Beckham says you guys share a class now.” Looking over his shoulder, I watch Beckham laugh, with all his pearly whites on display and throwing a chip at Jay who is only smiling lightly. The contrast in personalities is astounding, really. When I register that I am staring, I tell Seb, “Unfortunately.”

With a raised brow Sebastian says, “That’s not what he said.”

That kindles my curiosity. “What did he say?” 

“I don’t know!” He shrugs again and smirks, like he knows I am onto something. Except, I am not. “Just that you were gelling well together and he’s glad that he has you in that class. Why LJ, what else should he have said?” Well, I wish the sentiments were the same from my end.

“Hey, you didn’t tell us that!” Jamie points out unhelpfully. Gritting my teeth, I respond, “Because that definitely wasn’t the highlight of my day.” Then I turn towards Torres and spit, “Luca. My name is fucking Luca.”

“Are you sure Fucking Luca is a good name to be called?” A deep baritone interrupts us and I look up to come face to face with the subject of our conversation. He’s dressed in the black hoodie I’d seen him wearing this morning with fitted jeans and white sneaker, looking every bit the handsome jock that he is. With a lopsided smile and his hands messing around with a can of Coke, he drops down next to Jamie with the other buddy taking the seat next to him. “I personally think LJ is better. In fact, you look like an LJ.” I love the notebooks that Griff makes for me, but for the first time, I feel like cursing him out for stamping my name in his fucking lovely handwriting on the front page of my custom notebook.

What? “How does one even look like an LJ?”

He points the can my way. “That’s obvious. Like you, LJ.” I don’t like this familiarity that Beckham is showing. I don’t like any part of it. He was a good lay, but not one that is past being regretful. We are engaged in this stupid stare off and I don’t like that either.

“Nice to meet you, LJ. I am Jay,” his blond friend speaks up, a hand out in front of him for a shake. I take it and say, “It’s Luca. I’d really appreciate it if you can stick to my given name.” 

Jay gives me a handsome, soft smile in return, picking up on my frustration with his pals. “Of course, Luca. If that’s what you want.”

“Thank you, Jay!” I breathe. Someone that respects my boundaries? Fina-fucking-ally.

The same time, Seb and Beckham groan. “Geez, Jay. Do you always have to act gentlemanly and make us look like douchebags?”

“He doesn’t have to do shit to make you look like a douchebag,” I mumble, but some

how I had been loud enough for the entire table to hear me. Entire table, including Beckham. Fuck me! Scrambling to my feet, I grab the half-eaten lunch and my bag. “Good talk, guys! Nice meeting you, Jay,” I say as quickly as my tongue can manage and shoot out of there. 

When I reach the door and turn towards the hallways, I hear someone calling for me with a name that I did not agree upon. “LJ, wait!” I probably shouldn’t stop, but having him yell across the hallway isn’t an option either and so I do.

Whipping around, I put my hands on my hip, waiting for Beckham to come closer. “Hey!” he starts only to stop just as fast. I arch a brow, lingering there to hear what he has to say, even though I’d rather not. 

“You’re going to speak or what?” I ask, when we unintentionally start that whole eye contact thing that we did just a while ago, sitting across each other at the cafeteria table. Beckham snaps out of it and nods.

“Yes, sorry!” I considers whatever he’s got to say for another minute before he continues, “I am sorry. I didn’t mean for the bickering to get out of hand. I was just-”

“-Trying to be friendly?” I finish the sentence for him. “Yeah, I got that much. But here’s the thing,” I shuffle a bit, “We slept once together. And while I am aware that girls would love for you to try and be friendly with them after, I am not one of them. If you’re looking for a way to get in my pants, sorry to disappoint, but I don’t do repeats.” His thick brows shoot up and nearly off is hairline when I add, “It’s not you and I have no qualms in telling you, yes I find you fucking attractive. I wouldn’t have slept with you otherwise. I really did have fun that night with you.”

“You find me attractive and you enjoyed our night together but you wouldn’t fuck me again. That’s very reassuring, LJ.” A small smile plays across his lip, bringing out a deep dimple on his cheeks and it distracts me for a second there, but I collect myself before shrugging. “It’s a matter of principle, I suppose. I don’t do repeats, Beckham. Especially, with people who get overly familiar like you.”

“Fine. But why can’t we be friends? We cannot even try?” I don’t think he meant to ask me that because he looks astonished by his own words for a second there. 

Someone tries to rush past me and end up shouldering me on the way. On a normal day that wouldn’t have done shit to me, but now I hadn’t been prepared for it. It results in me stumbling right into Beckham’s brick wall of a chest, one that I had touched and admired not so long ago. Beckham backs me up against the wall to prevent any more such mishaps, but inadvertently boxes me up between the surface and his body. His warm breath hits me square on the lips and mine on his when I speak, “Why would we be friends? You don’t even know me.”

“I don’t know about you, LJ, but that’s how people become friends. They get to know each other. Why is it such a foreign concept to you?” he argues. He’s still close. Very, very close. I might even break my no repeats rule for this man if he hadn’t been pressing so much on coming to friendly terms with me, because he’s just that tempting. Up close, his looks are top tire, his blue-green eyes shifting stunningly in the shadows and light. If I was an artist, this would be something I’d want to capture on my canvas. 

This is exactly why I need to back off, now. He’s just too enticing and he pushes. Too much for my comfort. “I don’t understand why you’re pressing so much. We slept together-”

He cuts me off, his tone taking one of exasperation, “-once. I am well aware. I was there when it happened, Luca.”

“I’m not here to make friends, Beckham.”

That picks at his curiosity. “What are you here for then?”

“To play hockey. To finish my undergrad programme. Usual college stuff.”

Beckham bites his lip and my eyes go straight to the impressive, plump lips. “Usual college stuff but you’re not going to be making any friends?” He stops and then asks me after a second, “What about Ellie and Jamie?”

“Acquaintances at best, strangers I have to room and play hockey with at worst.” His eyes reflect confusion, I can see that he has questions. Unfortunately for him, those are the questions he will never hear the answers to. Nobody will if I can have any semblance of control over it.

“LJ-”

“You need to stop.”

The his face drops and he gets serious, as if he’s just realizing how overbearing he’s being. “Listen, I really am sorry. I didn’t mean to be an asshole to you or make you uncomfortable in way.” I nod. “And I’ll keep out of your way, if that’s something that you’d like.” Perfect. 

“Yeah,” I clear my throat, hugging my bag closer to me. “I’d appreciate that. Thank you, Beckham!”

Beckman bobs his head with a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s evident he is not used to the indifferent treatment or to his friendliness ever being unwelcome, specially from a girl he has slept with. I don’t necessarily not enjoy it. He’s quite the charmer, like Jamie had told me after the whole party fiasco and I think I’d be able to better appreciate it if I was the type to enjoy camaraderie. I’m not. But still, I reach forward and give him a quick hug that startles him. Before he can get over the surprise and actually hug me back, I pull away.

“Until next time, LJ.” He backs away and spins around to walk back to the cafeteria, probably where his friends are waiting for him when I yell, “It’s Luca, you asshole.” I get a two-finger wave in response.