“Nice footwork there,” he tells me. “Good hip work.”
“Hip work.”
“Yeah, you did this cool twisting move when you pivoted.”
“Wow. A compliment.”
“Go again?”
I nod.
Later, on our next water break, he becomes more animated than usual as we discuss ways to distract the defenders and goaltender.
“See, now the defenders have a decision to make. When to flush you out, and how to do it. Your goal is to draw them to one side of the net, try to create an opening for a backdoor play. You want them so focused on flushing you out that when it’s time for them to divert their attention to one of your teammates, it’s too late—they’ve already scored.”
“I’m so much better out in the open,” I admit.
“Who isn’t? We all prefer having the room to rely on our speed and accuracy instead of muscles and tricks.”
I grudgingly compliment him. “You’re a good coach.”
He shrugs.
“I mean it. You’d be a real asset to those boys at Hockey Kings if you coached there next summer. And yes, I’ll be sure to keep telling my father that.”
“Thanks.” His voice is gruff.
We stay for another ten minutes before calling it quits. Neither of us want to overdo it now that our season openers are coming up. A comfortable silence falls between us as we trudge down the rubber walkway toward the locker rooms.
“I’m not interested in marrying your friend,” I find myself saying.
He gives me a sidelong glance. “Didn’t think you were.”
“You made a point to tell me he’s not Mr. Monogamy. Obviously that means you were super worried about it.”
“Wasn’t worried in the slightest.”
“Jealous, then?” I mock.
His eyes narrow. “I wasn’t jealous.”
“Well, either way. I wasn’t looking to date him. I was stressed and wanted some…naked stress-busting.”
Ryder looks over again, vaguely amused.
The problem with his constant silences is, they propel me to keep babbling when I know I shouldn’t.
“I miss having regular sex. I was in a relationship for almost two years, and I got used to having a regular partner, you know? It’s so nice to have someone when you’re stressed or need to scratch an itch. You don’t have to date around, flirt, figure out if there’s an attraction, worry about STIs. You can just call them up and be like, Babe, I need to fuck your brains out, and they’re happy to oblige.”
Ryder’s pensive gaze doesn’t leave my face.
I swallow. My throat is suddenly dry. “What?”
He shrugs. “Nothing.”
“You look like you want to say something,” I push.
Another shrug.
When he still doesn’t speak, I sigh. “Anyway. I’m starting to feel the pressure. Our first game is coming up, and I needed a way to release the stress.” I grin at him. “And he’s got an Australian accent.”
“Chicks do like it,” Ryder says dryly.
“But it was probably a good thing we got interrupted. I would’ve totally been using him. And, yeah, yeah, I’m sure he would’ve been happy to be used. But I kind of feel bad using someone for sex.” I poke him in the side. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For the girl talk. It’s obvious you’re really into this stuff, you know, sharing feelings and talking about boyfriends and girlfriends. I’m giving you what you crave. You’re welcome.”
He presses his lips together, and I suspect he’s trying not to laugh.
We duck into our respective locker rooms, then meet outside in the parking lot fifteen minutes later, where we get into our respective vehicles. I like that he always waits for me to drive away before following suit. It’s oddly gentlemanly.
Later, I eat dinner in the dining hall with Mya before Diana comes over for game night. It’s a tradition we started when the three of us lived together in the freshman dorms. One night a week, we’d pick a game, usually Scrabble, and crack open some wine. Mya and Diana would then argue the entire time because they’re like cats and dogs. Sometimes I think it was good that Diana moved out. They probably would have killed each other if subjected to three more years of cohabitation.
“So…I fucked Percival,” Diana announces as she shakes the velvet sack of letter tiles.
Mya chokes midsip of wine. “Wait a minute. Your new man’s name is Percival?” Her head swings toward me. “Did you know this?”
“Unfortunately.”
Diana picks seven tiles at random before passing the little bag to Mya. “It really is unfortunate,” she says glumly. “But I’m into him, so I’m pretending in my head that he has a hot name.”
“Like Thunder,” Mya says. “Or Blaze.”
“I said a hot name, not a gladiator.”
I snicker as I arrange my tiles on my letter tray. The first word that pops out at me is COCK.
Wait. I also have a Y.
COCKY.
There. Proof I don’t have dicks on the brain.
Mya gets the game going by throwing down the word BEET.
“How was the sex?” she asks Diana. “I can’t even imagine what a Percival would be like in bed.”
“A bit intense,” confesses Diana. “He held my face a lot.”
“Held your face?” I echo, grinning.
“Yeah. Not aggressively or anything. He kept cupping my cheeks and looking deep in my eyes. So I kept flipping myself over and going doggy style to give all the eye contact a break, but he’d only flip me onto my back again to stare lovingly at me.”
I try not to laugh. “I guess that’s…romantic?”
“Sure, if it’s anniversary sex. But not when you’re having sex for the first time. That’s supposed to be fun and wild and passionate. Not super emotional.”
“I actually agree with you.” Mya appears shocked by her own admission. “How is that possible? I never agree with you.”
Diana laughs and tosses her platinum hair over her shoulder. “Something’s definitely wrong with the universe,” she agrees.
I know it’s all good-natured. They do like each other. I think. If they don’t, they’re doing an excellent job protecting me from their mutual hatred.
The universe must be off-kilter, because as I examine the board trying to figure out where I can squeeze in the word COCKY, my phone buzzes with an incoming call.
From Ryder.
My heart stutters. Why is he calling me?
“One sec,” I tell my friends, reaching for the phone. I swipe to answer, my tone wary. “Hello?”
I don’t get a hello back, or even a normal sentence.
His rough voice fills my ear with two inexplicable words.
“Use me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
GIGI
I want it from you
HOLDING THE PHONE TO MY EAR, I WRINKLE MY FOREHEAD TO try to make sense of what Ryder is saying to me. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Use me for sex,” he clarifies.
I cough loudly. A result of choking on air because I made the mistake of taking a breath right as he said that.
Use me for sex.