Page 35 of Puck King
Hollie was either so confident in our future practice together, or was horrible with her money, for her to spend that kind of money on a brick of cheese. “It’s delicious.” I took a chip and layered another on top to make a mini nacho chip sandwich, but before I could cram it into my mouth, Hollie put her hand on mine.
“Look.” She pointed to the screen.
Colton was on a breakaway. The fans were on their feet and my world went into slow motion. He didn’t tease or do any fake shots. As soon as he reached the blue line, he wound up and, without hesitation, slammed a slap shot at the goalie. It was so fast that I couldn’t see the puck. I only saw the net behind the goalie bulge and strain as Colton’s shot sailed over his shoulder and into the net.
He circled the net with his arms raised high, something that would’ve been painful for him before our sessions.
“Are you crying?” Hollie’s voice shook me from my trance-like state.
I was crying. I swiped at my eye and set the chip on the tray. I didn’t want to lie to Hollie, so I told her the truth – as much of the truth as I could legally spill without risking litigation from the beautiful blond woman celebrating in the owner’s box.
“I think I’m falling for Colton King.”
The next day I woke up and realized that Hollie hadn’t spilled the tea on her own escapades. I also woke up to a text from number seventy-seven.
Seventeen
Colton
Drunk texting is nevera good idea. I know better. The entire team was celebrating, and the single guys were picking out their puck bunnies for the rest of the night. There were plenty available for me, but all I could think about was Ali.
As soon as that puck went into the net, it changed the tone of the whole game. We were back on track and had a shutout – the number two team in the league couldn’t get the puck past our goalie.
Was Everleigh a genius? Was Ali a good luck charm? Was the pent-up sexual desire that had been building in my body since that day in the park fuelling me? Whatever it was, it was working. I had typed so many texts to Ali in the days that had passed, wondering how she was doing. I thought about booking some treatments with her, just to feel her gentle touch on my body, but realized that was a bad fucking idea. I couldn’t look at her the same way anymore, and I certainly couldn’t lie in my boxers on a table and let her fingers work their woo woo magic on my body. I started to get an erection just thinking about her touching me.
What the hell was wrong with me?
But that night, after one too many pitchers of beer with the boys, I pressed ‘send’.
My head poundedand I wished that drunk me had left me a glass of water. I groaned as I rolled out of bed, thankful for the mechanical blackout shades on my two-story windows. Chugging a glass of water, I leaned against the counter and wished that my head didn’t feel like it had taken a slapshot to the temple.
The sofa was calling my name and I spread a blanket over the leather, gingerly lowering my hungover body onto it. I had several text notifications, and after checking the scoreboards from all the games the night before, I started going through my messages.
Everleigh’s didn’t make sense. It read,That’s a good idea. I’ll make it happen.
I had to scroll through our history to see what the hell good idea I’d come up with at two o’clock in the morning.
Shit.
I’d suggested that Alison come and watch me play hockey. I rubbed my forehead and remembered looking at the stands as the sirens wailed, and the red flashing goal light lit up the stadium, wishing that Alison had seen the shot.
Wishing I could take back the text, I remembered that our next game was in Canada. It would be a few days before I’d see Alison again, and by then maybe I’d be over these weird feelings I was having whenever I thought about her smile.
There were a few messages from the guys and…oh no.
I had sent a message to Alison at 2:48 a.m. It read,Sandwishes?
Apparently drunk me didn’t know how to spell sandwich. What the hell was I thinking?
I must have drifted off to sleep because I woke up to the glass of water I had been holding spilling onto my bare chest. Rubbing my eyes, I wondered how long I’d been asleep. And then I remembered the sandwich text. I grabbed for my phone, my heart pumping, wondering what Allison would reply. But as I opened my phone, I had to rub my eyes to make sure I was seeing properly. It was almost noon and Allison still hadn’t responded. I was confused.
Girls always responded to me.
Eighteen
Alison
Sharing Hollie’ssmall apartment had been temporary, and as I looked around our new empty apartment, I told myself that this was temporary too. The deposit on the secret agreement had been enough for us to get a 900 square foot fourth-floor walk-up in an area that’s only sketchy at night. We’d hired movers to bring over the couches from Hollie’s old place, but the only piece of furniture I had so far was the bed I’d purchased. There was no way I was fighting Brian for the one that we’d shared. The only way I would’ve fought for that bed was so I’d have the pleasure of burning it.
