Hodge did her absolute best to ignore the merciless teasing at her expense. As if it were somehow her fault that that her very own personal hero, Dylan ?The Goddess? Lambert had been in the crowd.

?Would you guys just knock it off? I?m sure she was only there as a fan.?

?Riiiight.? Kellie gave her friend a gentle punch to the arm. ?Sure she was.?

Tonya nodded her agreement. ?Yeah, like Dylan Lambert doesn?t have better things to do than watch college ball. I read last week that she?s dating Hunter Locke.?

The other girls ?oohed? and ?aahed?. Several fanned their faces.

Tonya laughed. ?You got that right, girlfriend. I just saw the promos for his new movie last week and if I had a choice between going to a stupid game and spending time with that wonderful hunk of man flesh, you know which one I?d choose.?

Laughter filled the air.

Hodge just shook her head. ?Yeah.? She shouldered her backpack and continued toward the dorm. ?Anyhow, I?m sure it was nothing.?

?Okay Miss Denial, this is where we part company. You are planning on going out with us tomorrow night to celebrate, right??

?Wouldn?t miss it for the world, Kellie. I?ll catch you guys tomorrow.?

She watched as Tonya and Kellie split off and took another path across the quad. Once they were out of sight, she turned to continue her trek to her dorm.

Once in her room she tossed down her backpack and flipped on a small desk lamp. There was just enough light to cast the room in a warm glow and soft shadows. The room was a single she had been fortunate to get when resident registration had screwed up her housing assignment. In order to keep her from having a fit of gargantuan proportions right there in the office, the assistant director had made the executive decision to assign her this single, normally reserved for resident assistants.

The room was neat and very orderly. Everything had a place and everyplace had its thing. Hodge couldn?t stand clutter and this was one of the biggest reasons she was grateful for her single room. She had been forced to share a room with a woman the year before who was a total slob and it had driven her half out of her mind.

Pulling a bottle of water from the small fridge, Hodge flipped on the TV and dropped down to her bed, frowning as the abused springs poked her in places that were most definitely sore. She looked around the room at the pictures and posters hanging on the walls. Photos of her family had a place of honor at the foot of her bed so that her parents and younger siblings were the last things she saw at night and the first things she would see in the morning.

The rest of the room, however, was dominated by pictures and posters of some of her favorite basketball players. There were a lot of them, from various eras of the game, but her eyes where drawn to what some of her friends lovingly referred to as ?the shrine?. Pictures, posters, T-shirts and trading cards dominated one entire wall, all bearing the face and form of one Pallas ?The Goddess? Lambert. Her favorite was a life-size poster of Lambert standing alone at center court, a faraway gaze in her piercing eyes. One hand perched on her hip, while the other cradled the basketball tucked under her arm.

To Hodge?s eyes, in that one perfect moment in time, the superstar veneer had faded, leaving a flesh and blood woman standing in her place. The image had captivated Catherine for years, and for some reason, staring at too long always left her with a strange sense of melancholia.

It was to this image that she spoke, her voice a subdued whisper.

?Regardless of what anybody thinks, I?m glad you got to see me play at least once Goddess. Thanks.?

She turned her attention to the TV where the weatherman was droning on about something she wasn?t particularly interested in, and very slowly her eyes dropped closed.

The sound of a ringing phone shocked Dylan out of a particularly pleasant dream, and she awoke to find herself pinned beneath the heavy weight of a dog who was aiding the wake up process by enthusiastically licking her face. ?Brunhilde! God! Dog breath. Move it, you big oaf, before I turn you into dog puree!?

Voicing her displeasure with a loud groan, Brunhilde absented herself from the bed in a leisurely fashion, allowing Dylan to pick up the phone on its fifth ring.

?Yeah.?

Mac?s smug tones oozed through the phone. ?You owe me, Lambert. Big. Not candlelight dinner big. Not front row Pacer?s tickets big. Diamond watch big.?

Sitting up, Dylan dry scrubbed her face with her hand, lips curling in disgust at the dog saliva coating her palm. ?He go for it??

?Hook, line, and sinker, my friend. He wants to see her at pre-draft camp, though. Up close and personal, so to speak.?

?Why? Isn?t he afraid her gayness might rub off on him??

?Dylan?.?

?Mac, the man?s a bigot. You know it, and I know it, so let?s stop beating around the bush, alright??

?Hey, at least he?s willing to listen to reason. So now all we need to do is find out if she?s planning on going.?

Dylan sighed and shook her head. ?Fine. Book us a flight for tomorrow morning and we?ll find out.?

Mac?s sigh was louder. ?Dylan, you know I love you, but I do have a wife I haven?t seen in three weeks.?

?Make it three weeks and two days then, Mac. Your wheeling and dealing got us into this mess, you?re gonna help us get out of it.?

?But?.?

?Bye, Mac. See you tomorrow.?

As she hung up the phone, Dylan looked up at the ceiling, praying for strength. Then she pushed herself out of bed, scowled down at the two oh so innocent faces staring back up at her, and headed for the shower to begin what was left of the day.

The Rusty Bucket was a small, hole-in-the-wall tavern well known to the students of UCONN. Though it was a bit of a hike from the main campus, it had the reputation for being a little lax when it came to checking ID?s, and so was a hit with the underage crowd.

The interior was typical for a college dive. Dim and smoky, it had a long, badly abused bar, stools bleeding foam stuffing from mortal wounds, and a smattering of splintered and sticky tables set much too close together. The tiny dance floor was fronted by an even tinier stage from which local talent was invited to do its best to drive paying customers away.

This night, the local college sensation, Laying Rubber, was pounding out the atonal chords and drum riffs that passed for music among the eager young crowd. Their hit song ?My Girlfriend is a Blow-Up Doll? was a particular favorite, and they played it so often that the bartender seriously considered rupturing his eardrums with his own icepick just so he wouldn?t have to hear it anymore.

All in all, it was the perfect place for Hodge, her friends, and their fans to let their hair down, celebrate their victory, and break the half-year long alcohol ban imposed upon them by their coaches.

Which was probably why, though the evening was scarcely two hours young, most of the young women were three sheets to the wind, and showing no signs of stopping.

Hodge never had been much of a drinker. She didn?t hold her liquor well, and there were goddesses other than the porcelain one that she?d much rather worship. Still, she figured that it wasn?t every day that a gal got to sink the winning basket in a championship game, and since it had happened to her, she figured such an event deserved a celebration.

She didn?t really know when she?d switched from beer to rum, nor exactly when the rum suddenly gained the taste and consistency of a jello shooter, but sometimes it was just best to go with the flow and refrain from asking questions whose answers were better off unknown.

Looking up from her latest shot, she noticed, for the first time, that she was alone at the table. Her gaze swung ponderously toward the dance floor where Kellie, Tonya and the rest of her friends were pressed up against a number of willing males in a pre-mating ritual they called ?dancing?.

So intent was she in the drunken study of her friends that she nearly launched herself into orbit when a warm hand came down gently on her shoulder.

?Who? Wha—?? she blubbered, turning her head to the left in time to spy a particularly cute redhead staring down at her, a look of adoration in her eyes.

?Is this seat taken?? Redhead breathed.

Before Hodge could even work her brain around a particular answer, the young woman lowered herself down into the seat next to the basketball player and leaned forward so that their bodies were almost touching.

?Do I know you?? Hodge found herself asking a pair of very pert breasts. Normally, she wasn?t quite so rude, but her eyes seemed to have frozen in that particular spot. Maybe it was some strange side effect of the alcohol she?d been consuming. God only knew what they put in jello shooters anyway.

?Not yet, but you could if you wanted to.? The redhead flashed a sexy smile and slid a little closer. ?Great game by the way. I?ve never missed a game when you?re playing.?

Finally able to drag her gaze up to a pair of twinkling gray eyes, Hodge smiled. ?Basketball fan huh??

?Not particularly. More of a Cat Hodges fan.?

The sober part of her brain looked on in horror at the developing situation. Though hardly a prude, she?d also never been the type to outwardly flirt with women, especially in straight bars. Her libido, however, aided by the alcohol, was firmly in control of the rest of her. ?A fan, huh??

?Oh yes. A very?big?fan.? Hodge?s eyes nearly popped out of her head when the redhead put a hand on her knee and slowly drew it upward. ?Who would love the opportunity to pay you back for the hours of enjoyment you?ve given me.?