Page 72 of Best Man on Campus

“I’m singing original music.”

“You’re singing the TikTok song, right? We know it if you want—”

“No, I’ll do it myself.”

“What’s the name of the song?” The manager laughs, “Unless you want us to keep calling it Jazzy’s TikTok song?”

“It’s Bennie’s song,” I say. That’s how I think of it in my head, in my heart.

Chapter 17

Ben

Although I’m in bed because it’s past midnight, I’m not close to sleepy. I bite the bullet and call Jazzy. She finally decides to answer her phone.

“Where are you?” I ask because it sounds like she’s in her car.

“On my way home from New York City. Why? You looking for a late-night booty call?”

“I’ll take a booty call—but I want a whole lot more than that, Jazzy.”

“You can’t catch a falling star, Bennie, not unless you want a hole in your hand—or in your heart.”

“You let me worry about the dangers of wanting a poet.”

“Almost as dangerous as wanting a white knight,” she says

Scoffing, I need to the subject, to lighten it up. “We won our game the other night. We’re in the Frozen Four finals now.”

“Of course you are. Never any doubt.”

“Easy for you to say. How about you? How’d your gig go? You knock the crowd at Shallow Pool on their asses?”

“That’s right. They were all out cold when I left.”

I laugh and so does she. My chest tightens because it’s so rare to hear, so rare to have a lighthearted rap now. It’s hard work to keep the drama from intruding, but it’s worth the effort. The need to see her shoots through my gut.

“Secret?” She says, “I’m glad to be heading back. I’m almost there. On route 151 outside of town.”

“Ten minutes away.” Everything in me knots in anticipation. “I’ll meet you at your place.” My dick stands up, sending me a thank you twitch at the idea of getting lost in her warm body, even if it’s in her lousy pull out couch. Urgency hurls through me, heating me up.

“So, hockey boy, you keep winning these games, playing like you really mean it. You ever going to make up your mind between being a pro hockey player and going to med school? You realize the choice is a joke, right?”

“What are you talking about? You don’t hear me laughing.” Irritation flares up, but I’m mostly annoyed at myself because she’s kind of right. But it’s the last thing I want to talk about now, with her on her way home to me, on our way to being skin-to-skin.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” she says. “You can have your cake and eat it too.”

“I’d like to eat your cake—if that’s what you want to call it.” I keep my focus on the bright hot spot of being naked and entwined with her.

She laughs.

And then she screams.

A loud, blood curdling scream that jolts my racing heart to a stop. And then when it starts up again, with the rush in my ears, I hear the metal grinding, glass shattering sounds of a crash.

“Jazzy!” Throwing my bed covers aside, I shoot to my feet.

Panic makes me unsteady as I white knuckle the phone to my ear and grab my sweats. With one shaky hand, breathing heavy and hard, I pull them on. “Jazzy, are you there? Babe—”