Page 18 of Stick It
“Notoneof them is interested in you.”
Slowly chewing my mouthful of food, I raise my eyebrows, eyes going wide in a,So? What’s your point?
“You might be their plaything on the ice, butweare their playthings in bed.”
Ewww, nope. I gag around my mouthful of food, and it takes everything in me to swallow and not spit it out.Bet she doesn’t struggle with swallowing.She’d have probably made it look effortless. Even added a fake moan for extra credit.
She turns to walk away but throws one last parting shot over her shoulder. “Have fun pretending you’re one of them,Bench Bunny.”
Mouth agape, I don’t get the chance to tell her that she can have every single guy on that team. They’re all hers. Looks likeshe already got the memo, though, as she drops her tray in the spot beside Finn. Of course it’s Finn she sits beside—playboy extraordinaire. He drapes an arm around her waist like it’s second nature to him, turning to face her with that same cheeky smile he used on me that first day when he answered the door.
A smile he hasn’t directed my way once since finding out why I’m here. Although it would be pretty hard for him to do that while pretending I don’t exist. My gut twists, but I promptly ignore it, tearing my gaze away from Finn.
The other two girls have cozied up beside Kyle and a junior defenseman. I only glance at their table long enough to make my breakfast churn unpleasantly in my stomach before grabbing my things and hightailing it out of the cafeteria.
Bowl of popcorn in hand, I absently shove another handful into my mouth. My eyes are glued to the TV, the dim light illuminating the otherwise dark living room as I lean against the couch cushions, a blanket draped over my lap.
The sound of the movie fills the space. I hadn’t planned on watching a movie tonight, but when I sawA League of Their Ownwhile flipping through the channels, I couldn’t resist.
A night off. Just me, the couch, and a young Tom Hanks. It’s been a while since I let myself do something that didn’t feel like a calculated move toward a goal.
My hand stalls halfway to my mouth, and I lean forward. Anticipation thrums through my veins as my favorite part of the movie approaches, and I mouth the words as Jimmy Dugan tells Dottie Hinson, “It’s supposed to be hard. If it wasn’t hard, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great.”
I internally squeal!
That line gets me every time.
Moisture burns the backs of my eyes, a pang of nostalgia hitting me square in the chest.
The front door slams, yanking me out of the moment. My heart jumps, and I sit up straighter. The blanket slips off my lap, exposing my bare thighs beneath the pajama shorts I’m wearing. Heavy footsteps thud closer before the guys fill the doorway one by one.
Ethan is carrying a stack of pizzas, his expression unreadable as he takes me in, sitting on the couch. Finn is right behind him, his face blank, but his eyes flicker briefly over me before darting away. Kyle follows him in, stopping in his tracks when he spots me.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Charming as ever. Seems he still hasn’t gotten over hissloppystickhandling yesterday.
I raise an eyebrow, returning my focus to the TV and dismissing all of them as I grab a handful of popcorn from the bowl on my lap. “What does it look like I’m doing?”
“Well, you can piss off. We’re having a guys’ night.”
I shrug, popping a kernel into my mouth. “Cool. Enjoy.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Kyle’s face darken. It’s noticeable, even in the low lighting. He’s practically vibrating with fury, realizing that he isn’t going to get a rise out of me.
Ethan must realize that he’s about to blow as he gestures upstairs and mutters, “Just go. We’ll deal with this.”
Kyle huffs, shifting on his feet before he stomps toward the stairs. “Call me when the she-bitch is gone,” he calls over his shoulder before stalking up them. His footsteps smack loudly against each step until a door slams in the distance.
No one moves for a moment before Finn strides forward. He moves faster than I expect, catching me off guard as he snatches the bowl of popcorn from my lap while simultaneously scooping up the remote control before collapsing onto thevacant sofa. His long legs stretch out across the couch, and he rests one hand behind his head on the cushion, the bowl balanced on the hard plane of his abs as he flicks between channels.
“Wha— Hey!” I protest, leaning forward to snatch the remote back.
Focus intent on the TV screen, he acts like I’m an annoying fly buzzing around him as he holds the controller out of my reach.
“Give me that!” I snarl, pushing to my feet to stand over him. “Finn!” He still doesn’t acknowledge me, and this time, when I try to grab the remote from him, he stuffs it down the front of his jeans.
I gape at his crotch for a full five seconds before snapping my gaze to his face, my expression one of horror and disgust. “That’s just nasty,” I hiss at him.
