The Mistake

It’s a damn shame that duels don’t play a role in the modern world anymore. Because right now, I’d totally be down for slapping a leather glove on Morris Ruffolo’s cheek and challenging him to one.

What the hell kind of name is that, anyway? Morris Ruffolo. I’m highly suspicious of people who have last names for first names. And Ruffolo? Is he Italian? He didn’t look it.

And yes, I know the name of the guy Grace came to the party with last night. After she’d deserted me upstairs, I asked around and found out everything I needed to know. His name, his rep, and of course, his dorm. Which happens to be my current location.

I’ve just knocked on the guy’s door, but he’s taking his sweet ass time answering. I know there’s someone in there, though, because I can hear the muffled sound of a television from inside the room.

I knock a second time, and an aggravated voice calls out, “One sec!”

Good. He’s home. I’d like to get this out of the way fast so I can enjoy the rest of my Saturday.

When he opens the door and finds me standing there, a deep scowl twists his mouth. “What do you want?”

Okay then. I was wondering if Grace would tell him about the kiss, and his visible hostility answers that question.

“I came here to declare my intentions toward Grace,” I announce.

“Gee, how honorable of you.” Morris snorts. “But the truly honorable thing would have been to not make out with my date last night.”

I let out a remorseful sigh. “That’s the other reason I’m here. To apologize.”

Despite the perma-scowl on his face, he opens the door wider and takes a reluctant step back, an invitation to come in. I follow him inside, sparing a quick look at the clutter-ridden room before getting down to business.

“I’m sorry I moved in on your date. It was a total violation of bro code, and for that, I’m offering you one free swing at me. Just make sure to stay away from my nose, because I’ve broken that motherfucker way too many times and I’m scared one day it won’t heal right.”

Disbelief-laced laughter flies out of his mouth. “Dude, you can’t be serious.”

“Sure I am.” I widen my stance. “Go ahead. I promise I won’t hit back.”

Morris shakes his head, looking both amused and irritated. “No, thanks, I’ll pass. Now say whatever else you wanna say, and then get lost.”

“Suit yourself. That was a one-time offer, by the way.” I shrug. “Okay, next. You should know that as long as you and Grace aren’t exclusive, I won’t stop trying to win her back.” Regret rushes through me, and my voice shakes a little. “We hooked up back in April, and I screwed up pretty badly—”

“Yeah, she told me.”

“She did?”

He nods. “On our way home from the party last night. She didn’t offer many details, but she made it pretty clear that you messed shit up.”

“Yup,” I say glumly. “But I’m going to fix it. I know that’s probably not what you want to hear, but I figured I should warn you, because you might be seeing a lot more of me. You know, if you go out with Grace again.” I cock a brow. “Are you going out with her again?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” He cocks his brow. “Either way, it’s none of your business.”

“Fair enough.” I shove my hands in my pockets. “Anyway, that’s all I wanted to say. I hope there’re no hard feelings about last night. I didn’t show up planning to kiss her, it just sorta happened and—holy shit, are you playing Mob Boss?” My gaze has landed on the frozen image on the TV that’s mounted on the wall opposite the bed.

Suspicion darkens his eyes. “You know this game? Nobody I talk to about it has heard of it.”

I wander over to the cabinet beneath the TV and pick up the video game case. Yup, I have the identical one at home.

“Dude, I’m all over this game,” I tell him. “One of my teammates got me hooked on it, this guy Fitzy. Well, his name’s Colin Fitzgerald, but we call him Fitzy. He’s a serious gamer, plays a ton of weird shit nobody even knows exists. He actually reviews games for the Briar blog—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Morris exclaims. “You actually know F. Gerald? I’m obsessed with his reviews. Wait—he’s your teammate?”

“Yeah, Fitzy uses an alias for the blog. He doesn’t want chicks knowing he’s a hardcore geek.” I grin. “As hockey players, we have a certain reputation to uphold.”

Morris shakes his head in amazement. “I can’t believe you’re friends with F. Gerald. He’s a fucking legend in the gaming community…”

He trails off and our surprisingly animated discussion reaches it conclusion, an awkward silence creeping in to take its place. Sighing, I gesture to the screen and advise, “Save the ammo.”

His eyes narrow. “What?”

“You keep failing this level, right?”