Page 107 of Playing the Pucking Game
“He that unattractive, huh?”
“Not at all. In fact, he’s probably one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen.”
“Other than me, of course.”
“Good to see your ego hasn’t taken a hit,” I tease.
“You’d miss it.”
“Mmm.”
“So, are you seeing this guy again?”
“I don’t know. Maybe. He isn’t in town often.”
“You’ve met him before.”
“Uh huh,” I agree, keeping my eyes focused on the task at hand, afraid that if I look up, he might read too much.
“Ah, it was that kind of date,” he surmises.
“It was dinner,” I counter.
“You know, you’re a really bad liar, Parker.” My eyes dart to his. “Your neck goes all red and blotchy when you lie.”
“I’m not?—”
“Sure. So this guy you went out with. He’s a regular hookup of yours, is he?”
“Linc, can we not?”
“What? We’re just two friends talking about our nights.”
“We’re not friends.”
His hand shifts to cover his heart as he gasps.
“Ouch.”
“Oh, come on. You know it’s true.”
“I’m not sure. There was a time when I considered you one of my best friends.”
My heart races, and I keep my eyes locked on my fingers.
“That was a long time ago. We’re…we’re different people now. Want different things.”
“Is that right? Because some days, I can’t help but wish I could turn back time and have a do-over.”
“Stop, please,” I beg.
“You think about it, don’t you?”
“No,” I snap, refusing to go down this road with him. “I forgot about it years ago, put it into the correct box, and moved on with my life.”
“Yeah,” he muses. “I watched.”
I stand tall, my hand slipping away from his skin.
