Page 34 of Big Pucking Deal
I’m going to miss these last minute getaways when I finally get a darn job. Might as well enjoy it while I can.
Joaquín has an amazing block and our row goes mad.
“That’s your man, sister!” One woman, Emmy, says from two seats over.
“Sure is!” I hold out my hand and we high five one another.
Joaquín bought me an amazing ticket and while I really did appreciate it, I was stuck –yet again– in the middle of a very pissed off Miami Waves crowd. A group of Havoc fans saw me getting booed while cheering on my own and invited me to come sit with them as they had a friend that wasn’t able to make it. I happily took them up on their offer and we’ve celebrated every check, every steal and every goal.
When you’re a Texan and spot a fellow Texan out in the wild, it’s like spotting a family member. That’s just how we are.
The time on the clock runs out, and me and my new friends celebrate a Havoc win. I say goodbye to them and thank them for their generosity. We exchange socials and wave goodbye, themheading off towards the exit, and me towards the players lot to wait for Joaquín.
The night is warm and a bit muggy, so jackets are definitely not necessary. But, in my opinion, it is not let your hooha and milk jugs hang out weather either. Seems the puck bunnies didn’t get the memo.
Two women clad scantily in what I guess you would call clothing stand just feet behind me. Far enough I don’t have to suffer from the smell of their cheap perfume, but close enough I can hear their conversations.
“When was the last time you saw him?” One asks.
“It’s actually been a while. Last year, I think,” the other replies.
“Does he know you’re here?”
“No. I tried calling him but it went straight to voicemail. I’m hoping that once he sees me, he’ll remember and we’ll fall back to how it is every time he visits.”
Sounds like this girl is a regular and already knows the drill. I pull out my phone and scroll through some text messages. A few from Brooke including one with a picture of her and Jordan on their Pier, and one from my mom. I send a quick reply and return my phone to my pocket and keep my eyes peeled for Joaquín.
I spot him finally stepping through the back door and immediately my heart dances in my chest. His eyes roam the parking lot and when he sees me, a smile lights up his gorgeous face. I bounce on my toes as he swaggers towards me and everything else fades to black. It’s like a cheesy teen flick when the main character walks out and a love song plays while the crowd just seems to disappear.
Yeah. I’m totally feeling that right now.
He’s a foot away when someone steps right between us and throws her arms around his neck.
“Hey. I was hoping you’d remember,” she purrs.
Joaquín looks at me with an utterly shocked face and there is no doubt mine matches. My stomach sours watching another woman with her hands all over him, but I feel some ease seeing the extreme discomfort on his face.
The woman turns her head to kiss him and before I can snatch her ass to the floor by her cheap extensions, Joaquín palms her face and pushes her away.
“What the fuck?” he gripes. “Get off of me. Jesus.”
He grabs her arms from around his neck and drops them by her side once he’s free of her. She watches him with ahow dare youlook, and he furrows his brows at her and steps around where she stands.
Joaquín tugs me into his arms and drops his bag, grabbing me with both hands. “Hi baby. I missed you.”
“It’s only been hours,” I remind him.
“And that’s far too long.” He grabs the back of my head and kisses me with a passion that is usually reserved for the bedroom.
I moan against his mouth and he slides his hands over my ass. My fingers tangle in his hair that is still wet from his shower, and scrape my nails on his scalp the way he likes. We separate and he stares at me and only me.
“I’m sorry,” he says, a remorseful look on his face.
“No sorry’s. Ghosts in the past.” He shakes his head and blinks his eyes as if he’s trying to ward off tears. “Want to go to the bar?”
“No. I just want to go back to the hotel. I just want to hold you.”
I caress his face and look deep into his dark brown eyes. They look so sad and full of guilt and I know what just happened is really affecting him. I won’t lie, I’m pissed, but I’m confident in our relationship. Our connection is unlike any other and no one could possibly have what we do. I refuse to hold his past over hishead like a guillotine that may drop at any moment. Jordan did that enough, I think.
