Page 4 of Him
I have more than winning on my mind, though. Now that we were actually headed for the championship, it was time to come to terms with the idea that we might face Northern Mass. The star player of their team? None other than Ryan Wesley, my ex-best-friend.
“What is it, sweetie?” Holly props herself up on an elbow to study me. She doesn’t usually stay over, but last night’s sex marathon had lasted until four a.m., and I would’ve felt like an ass hustling her into a cab that late.
I’m not sure how I feel about having her curled up in bed beside me, though. Spectacular morning sex aside, her presence makes me uneasy. I’ve never lied to Holly about what this is—and what it isn’t. But I’ve had enough experience with chicks to know that when they agree to a friends-with-benefits arrangement, a part of them hopes one of those benefits will somehow be landing a boyfriend out of the deal.
“Jamie?” she prompts.
I push aside one set of troubling thoughts and replace them with another. “Have you ever been fired by a friend?” I hear myself ask.
“What? Like…someone you worked for?” She has wide blue eyes, which always take me seriously.
I shake my head. “No. The leading scorer on Northern Mass was my best friend in high school. And junior high, too. You know that hockey camp where I work in the summer?”
“Elites?” She nods.
“Yeah, good memory. Before I was a coach there, I was a camper. So was Wes. He was crazy.” I chuckle to myself just picturing his scruffy face. “The dude would do anything. There’s this toboggan chute in the center of town—in the winter you can sled down onto the frozen lake. But in the summer it’s closed, with a twelve-foot fence around it. He’s like, ‘Dude, after lights out we’re climbing that thing.’”
Holly massages my chest with one of her soft hands. “Did you?”
“Naturally. I was sure we were going to get busted and thrown out of camp. But nobody caught us. Wes was the only one smart enough to bring a towel to slide on, though. So I had burns on the backs of my thighs from sliding down that fucker.”
Holly grins.
“And I still wonder how many tourists had to delete the pictures they took of Mirror Lake. Whenever Wes saw a tourist lining up a shot, he would always drop his pants.”
Her grin turns into a giggle. “He sounds like fun.”
“He was. And then he wasn’t.”
“What happened?”
I fold my hands behind my head, trying to appear casual despite the wave of discomfort sliding down my spine. “I don’t know. We were always competitive. Our last summer he challenged me to a contest...” I stop, because I never tell Holly the really personal stuff. “I don’t know what happened, exactly. He just cut off contact with me after that summer. He stopped responding to my texts. He just…fired me.”
She kisses my neck. “Sounds like you’re still mad.”
“I am,” I surprise myself by saying.
If you’d asked me yesterday whether there was anything in my past that bothered me, I would have said no. But now that Ryan Wesley has parked his nutty ass back in my consciousness, I’m all churned up again. Goddamn him. I really don’t need this going into the toughest two games of my life.
“And now you have to play him,” Holly muses. “It’s a lot of pressure.” She’s rubbing my hip now. I’m pretty sure she has some plans for the two of us involving a different kind of “pressure.” She’s looking for round two, but I don’t have the time.
Catching her hand in mine, I give it a quick kiss. “Gotta get up. Sorry, babe. We’re watching tape in twenty minutes.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed and turn for an eyeful of Holly’s curves. My friend-with-benefits is sexy as hell, and my dick gives a little twitch of gratitude for the fun we already had.
“Shame,” Holly says, rolling onto her back invitingly. “I don’t have class until this afternoon.” She runs her hands up her flat stomach and onto her tits. With her eyes locked on me, she gives her nipples a flick then licks her lips.
My dick does not fail to notice.
“You are evil and I hate you.” I grab my boxers off the floor and look away before I get all boned up again.
She giggles. “I don’t like you at all, either.”
“Uh-huh. Keep telling yourself that.” But then I clamp my lips together. Six weeks before graduation, it’s unwise to start even a playful conversation about how much Holly and I like each other. We’re strictly casual, but lately she’s been making noises about how much she’ll miss me next year.
According to Holly, it’s only forty-three miles from Detroit, where I’ll be next year, to Ann Arbor, where she’ll be in med school. If she starts wondering aloud whether there are any apartments for rent halfway between those cities, I don’t know what I’m going to say.
Yep. Not looking forward to that conversation.
Sixty seconds later I’m dressed and heading for the door. “Are you cool letting yourself out?”
