“Hurts like a bitch, but it’s slowly getting better,” I said. “What are you two psychos watching this time?”
“Chainsaw Slaughter 6.” Shiv grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl beside her. “It’s the best one of the whole series. Wanna join?”
It sounded better than economic theory, but I had a quiz tomorrow, and Coach Miller had been watching me like a hawk since our little chat. He’d been cornering me on a weekly basis for updates, which was really code for trying to catch me in a lie since he’d already talked to my professors. If I wanted to keep playing, there wasn’t much room for error.
“I still have to finish some schoolwork, but thanks for the offer.”
Dallas tilted his head, studying me. “Schoolwork? Is this Bailey’s influence or what?”
“Coach is up my ass about my grades again.” I shrugged. “It’s buck up or get benched, and we all know you’re fucked without me.”
“Back to the Bailey thing,” he said emphatically, ignoring my jab and blatant attempt to change the subject. “You’ve seen her a lot lately. Taking this toying with Morrison thing pretty far, huh?”
“Nah, I like spending time with her.”
He pointed at me with the neck of his beer bottle. “Because you like her.”
Beside him, Shiv widened her eyes and gave a little shake of her head as if to say, “I didn’t tell.” I believed her. Unfortunately, Dallas was good at reading me. Plus, hanging around a girl this long without banging was basically a dead giveaway. The only other girl I was friends with was Shiv.
Besides, let’s be real—not even I believed my intentions with Bailey were platonic. But was that what Bailey wanted?
“Maybe.”
“Don’t even try to act cool. We already know, dumbass,” Dallas said. “But I wanted to make sure you did. You’re not always the most self-aware.”
Dammit.
Okay, whatever. I could own it.
“Fine,” I said. “I like her.”
“I like her too. Can we keep her?” Shiv gave me a puppy dog face.
“I have no idea,” I said honestly. With how often we had been talking lately, it was hard to imagine my life without Bailey in it. But I’d known her all of a month, and I wasn’t entirely sure where we were headed. For all I knew, she could get back with Morrison tomorrow and never speak to me again.
“She does seem cool,” Dallas agreed.
“She is.”
He smirked. “Which means you have no business with her.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, man.” I flipped him off before continuing upstairs to my room.
“Love you too,” he called.
When I got into bed later, it still smelled faintly like Bailey—something sweet, like her perfume, mixed with something else that I was pretty sure was just her. And hockey help me, I liked it.
I was so screwed.
Tuesday evening’s practice rolled around, and Coach Miller bag skated us for the first half as punishment for playing so poorly against New England U. He was sneaky that way. He hadn’t done it the day after the game or the day after that, so we thought we were in the clear. But midweek?
Surprise, motherfuckers.
Now everything hurt and I was dying. To make matters worse, I was dumb enough to carpool with Dallas and Ty, which meant I got dragged to O’Connor’s after practice. I mean, the pub part was fine. It was the crowd that frequented the pub that I was ambivalent about. O’Connor’s was puck bunny and former-hookup central.
“Solid practice,” Dallas said. He drained the last of his rum and coke and set it on the black laminate tabletop. “Aside from the part where half the team puked in the garbage can at center ice.”
“At least none of us did.” I shrugged, pushing my chair away from the table to stretch out my legs in front of me. My ankle still wasn’t 100 percent going into practice, and it was agonizing coming out. “Plus, by Miller’s standards, only half the team is practically a pass.”
Ty smirked, tipping back his beer. “And you even got a few shots past me during drills for once. Good for you, little buddy.”
“I guess your strategy of flopping has to work sometime,” I said.
“Maybe you should learn to lift the puck.”
“Maybe you should—”
From out of nowhere, a soft hand touched the back of my neck and startled the crap out of me. I jumped in my seat and jerked around to find a pair of blue eyes with heavy eye makeup staring back at me.
“Hi, handsome.” Lindsay slid into my lap, looping an arm around my shoulders. She crossed her legs, causing her very short, very tight black skirt to hike up a little more.
I shifted my weight uncomfortably. Would it be rude to tell her to get off my lap? Diplomacy wasn’t exactly my strong suit. Even if I did mental gymnastics to justify this—like reminding myself that I was still technically single—it felt disloyal as hell.
“Hey.” My voice fell flat. In the background, Ty rolled his eyes and stood up to grab another beer.
“Long time no see,” she said breathily.
Objectively speaking, Lindsay was hot, albeit in a very overt, heavily made-up way. Earlier this year, I made it a mission to hit it and flirted with her like crazy. We did a whole back and forth thing and got pretty close, but it never quite came to fruition.
Despite that, there was zero response in my body to the events that were unfolding now. It was like watching the entire thing happen to someone else.
“Yeah. Been a while.”
“Are we going to pick up where we left off last time?” She bit her lip, tracing a pink fingernail along my chest. “Remember?”
I craned my neck and reached around her for my beer. “Er…no, not really.”
I hadn’t seen Lindsay since sometime this summer. Between hockey, school, and James, it felt like a decade had passed since then. I had no recollection of where we’d left things. I may or may not have been wasted at the time. Odds were, I was.
“About christening the bathroom next time we were here?”
Oh. That.
I’d been half-lit at the time, trying to close after we’d been making out off in the corner next to the pool tables. Lindsay was on the hook, too, until her friend passed out at the table and she had to take her home. I’d all but forgotten about that.
She nodded to the hallway behind us, lowering her voice. “You said you were going to tear off my panties and—”
I winced and held up my hand, cutting her off. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Or…” Lindsay angled closer, undeterred. Her breath was warm against my ear and smelled like some kind of fruity alcohol. “We could go back to my place with my friend Melanie over there. She loves hockey players.” She pointed to a busty brunette standing by the pool table, talking to a few other guys from the team. Her friend noticed us, and waved at flirtatiously.
August me would have considered this winning the hookup lottery, would have been all over it, would have been booking a ride home with both of them already.
October me would rather go home and watch SportsCenter. Or text James.
Was this seriously happening?