Page 4 of Final Score

“What’s in the bag?” Fallon asked, gesturing to the plastic grocery sitting on the coffee table.

“Hair dye.” I answered, holding the box of brunette dye I had picked up on my way home from the hockey game. It was time for another change.

A fresh start. A do-over.

An hour later, the bathroom counter was littered with makeup, remnants of hair dye, and curling tools. Standing amid the chaos, I analyzed my reflection in the mirror for the first time.

The dark smokey eyeshadow I’d meticulously applied complimented my blue eyes perfectly. Letting them sparkle against my tan skin. The new haircut and color had left me nearly unrecognizable.

My dirty blonde locks were gone. Fallon had coated each strand, removing any trace of my old self as she worked. In its place was a cascade of silky chocolate brown curls flowing down the middle of my back. Long curtain bangs framed my face, giving my reflection a mysterious edge with every head turn. And turning heads was the entire point.

A new identity for a new woman. One who knew what she deserved and would never settle for anything less than green flags. I welcomed the physical change with open arms. Knowing that the mental change would take a while longer to come full circle.

I had picked up one other thing at the store: a new dress. The tight red fabric hugged my curves in all the right places, making it the perfect revenge dress. I felt confident and sexy, as I admired my reflection. Two feelings I craved at the moment.

“Don’t overthink it. You look hot!” Fallon yelled from her bedroom.

“I wasn’t. I feel good tonight.” I answered. Walking into the kitchen, I poured a shot of tequila from the bottle on the counter.

“Good! Let’s see if we can get you feeling even better.” Fallon walked out of her bedroom, six-inch stilettos in her hand. She wore a low cut black minidress with a mesh cut out on the chest. Her auburn hair was pulled into a high slicked back ponytail, showing off sparkling silver earrings. Talk about turning heads.

“You know the only way to get over one man is to get under another.” A suggestive smile appeared on her face as she poured herself a shot.

Clinking our glasses together, I responded with a laugh. “I don’t think I need re-bound sex to feel better, Fal.”

“Come on, live a little Kat. Re-bound sex makes everyone feel better. Second only to makeup sex.”

“I don’t know.” I responded. The idea, however tempting, would never happen. One-night stands were not my thing.

“It’s happening!” Fallon sung. “Operation, get Kat laid is a go!”

One way or another, I was going to forget about the breakup. Maybe this new version of myself would be bolder than the old one?

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Identical brick houses lined both sides of a quiet street as the cab pulled to a stop at the end of the block. By the time we arrived, the party was in full swing. Loud music wafted through the front door, red solo cups littered the front lawn, and a group of people were smoking on the front porch.

Nothing unusual for a college party. Yet, Fallon had failed to mention that the party was being held at the edge of Northridge Campus. A large NU Devil’s Hockey flag flying on a pole attached to the porch told me she had left out that specific bit of information for good reason. I did not want to deal with any more hockey players today.

“Fallon! Kat!” Becca slurred, obviously a few drinks ahead of our two shots of tequila. “I’m so glad you made it!”

Becca’s dark skin was covered in glitter. The gold sparkles shimmered in the light as she threw her arms around our shoulders, fallen pieces sticking to our skin. Her naturally curly black hair had grown tangled slightly from the growing humidity inside the house as she pressed between us.

Fallon politely removed herself from underneath Becca’s arm before she spoke. “You didn’t tell me the party was going to be at a house full of hockey players.”

“I know, but they throw the best parties!” Becca’s eyes glazed over as she glanced excitedly around the room. “Kat, you don’t mind, do you? The school’s rivalry doesn’t apply to girlfriends, does it?”

My muscles tensed. I never cared about the rivalry, and I certainly didn’t care about it now that I had been relieved of my girlfriend duties. “It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Thanks for inviting us, Becca.”

Becca wasn’t paying attention, as she waved at a friend across the room, taking her exit.

Fallon nodded in the direction of the kitchen at the back of the house. “Come on, let’s go get another drink. Apparently, we have some catching up to do.”

As we walked to the back of the house, I noticed a group of guys sitting around a table playing an intense game of poker. From the scoreboard behind them it was clear they took the game seriously. Each of the guys, was unfairly good looking, but one stood out among the rest.

He sat at the center of the table, smoke from a lit cigarette swirling around him. Even sitting down, I could tell he was well over 6’. He dwarfed the chair underneath him, long legs stretched beneath the table for more room. Dark black hair fell across his forehead as he studied the cards in his hand.

He was in trouble with a capital T. The kind of good looking that makes you throw all your rules out the window. If the women behind him were any indication, he had caught more than one person’s attention tonight. As if hearing my thoughts, he looked up from his cards… and directly at me.