Page 83 of Wicked Minds
He adds popcorn to the order he gives the student behind the kiosk, along with what Ava and Isabella want. Once stocked up with food, we shuffle toward our seats.
Ava is struggling to hold on to a bouncing Isabella in front of us as we wind through the busy hallways toward the entrance for our seats. Turning to Royce, I take the opportunity to ask, “Do you miss it?” I gesture toward the rink, but he knows what I mean.
“Parts of it,” he admits honestly. “The game itself… all the time. But the rest of it. The popularity. The parties. The attention… no.”
“You mean to tell me you don’t miss girls hitting on the big-shot quarterback?” I tease. “Or maybe they didn’t. Got one look at thatfuck offon your forehead and decided you weren’t worth the hassle.”
He snorts a laugh. “Trust me, Babydoll. Plenty of people thought I wasworth the hassle.” Despite the teasing in his tone, I notice the slight tensing of his shoulders beneath his leather jacket. Refusing to let him get out of it that easily, I keep my eyes on him as we follow Ava and Isabella down the steps toward our seats. He sighs, the sound a near grumble in his frustration. “Girls were always throwing themselves at me.”
“And you didn’t like that?” I question, genuinely curious. I would imagine the fan-girling and admiration from others is part of the draw to playing sports.
His expression is carefully neutral as he states, “It became tedious.”
Our steps falter and we come to a stop in the middle of the aisle. Life continues around us; people side stepping past us to find their seats, music pumping into the stadium, and the buzz of excited chatter. Yet, it all becomes irrelevant as my gaze brushes over his face, taking in the tight lines around his eyes and the thin press of his lips.
I’d bet Royce’s aversion to female attention has everything to do with what I overheard, except here is hardly the place to discuss such things… assuming he would even want to tell me.
“Poor Royce,” I pout. “Having to put up with all those girls practically begging to suck your dick. How terrible that must have been for you. Thank goodness I came along and flattened that ego before it grew too big for you to lug around.”
He huffs out a laugh, a small yet genuine smile tilting his lips for the briefest of moments. “Get your ass in that seat, brat.” His blue eyes burn with mirth as he brings his lips to my ear, eliciting a shiver as his breath fans over my skin. “Or I’ll haveyoubegging to suck my dick in front of all these people before the end of the game. I already know you like it when others watch, my dirty little slut.” Somehow, he makes those four words sound like a caress, and I melt into molten lava on the spot.
His smirk, when he pulls back to meet my gaze, is pure masculine smugness, and with a nudge of his arm, I stumble in a daze down the next couple of steps.
The asshole, cool as a cucumber, munches onmypopcorn as he trails behind as if he hasn’t turned me into a ball of pure need.
“Wow,” Isabella gasps from up ahead, and ignoring the ache in my pussy, I focus on where she’s got her hands pressed against the plexiglass at the end of the aisle. “Look, Mommy. The ice is right there.” She stabs her finger into the glass.
“I see it, baby.”
“Our seats are just there,” I tell her, pointing to four empty seats right by the rink and loving how her eyes light up.
Ava turns wide eyes on me. “These are amazing seats, Riley.”
“Only the best for Logan’s lucky charm and her friends,” Royce teases before going to claim his seat and leaving me to deal with a grinning Ava.
“We aresohaving a girl’s night soon. You’ve been holding out on me, and since my S-E-X life is dead in the water, I need to hear all about yours.”
“What does that spell, Mommy?”
“Oh, look, baby. Here comes the Zamboni,” she says, successfully distracting Isabella. Chuckling, I slip past them into the row, glaring at Royce.
“You’ll point out And-son?” Isabella asks, joining me, although she doesn’t sit. God forbid she be that far from the action.
“Anderson,” I correct. “And, yes, I’ll let you know as soon as he comes on the ice.”
She’s wearing his jersey tonight, and even though she has no idea who he is, she’s already decided that her player is the best out of the three names we’re each wearing.
As she babbles away to Ava, I watch her with a pained longing in my chest. It’s great being with her, butgoddo I wish Aurora was here. That I could bring her to a game.
A warm hand slides into mine, and I spin to look at Royce with tears in my eyes. He gazes back at me with sympathy, leaning in to whisper. “One day, she’ll be here. Wearing Logan’s jersey and cheering him on, and you know he’s going to eat that shit up.”
I laugh, sniffling as I wipe at my eyes and Royce cups the back of my head, searing me with the promise of his words.
Thank you, I mouth, and not long after, the lights dim and the music builds in intensity before tonight’s teams—the Halston Huskies and the UNH Wildcats—are announced. Thestadium erupts into hoots and cheers, with signs being lifted into the air. I even hear howls from some of the spectators nearby.
One by one, the players’ names are called over the speaker system, and they explode from the tunnel onto the ice.
Anderson is announced second, and Isabella screams her little lungs out as he does a loop of the ice. Royce squeezes my hand as I watch her. I dunno if Logan told him to keep an eye out for us or if it’s just dumb luck, but as Anderson passes our section, he waves to Isabella, who nearly bursts with excitement.
