Page 1 of Daring the Hockey Player
ONE
AMBER
I'm not usuallythe girl who asks a guy out, but here I am. The butterflies in my stomach make me nervous, and I shift awkwardly on the bar stool, wondering if he's going to stand me up.
I have a date tonight with Tripp. I don't know his last name. It's probably for the best. Not that I'm looking for a hookup because I've never done that. I'm the queen of taking things slow, although that doesn’t mean that I don't crush hard and fast.
I've been scouring the dating sites, but I haven't talked with anyone online. But a few weeks ago, when I swung by Steele Concierge Medical to pick up my friend Charlotte, who had slipped and twisted her ankle while ice skating, I literally walked right into Mr. Handsome—AKA Tripp.
She did the tripping, and I did the walking smack into his chest. And I imagine it was a gorgeous chest. He certainly was rocking a six-pack, and those dark-rimmed glasses made him look a hundred times sexier.
When did I get so fucking horny that I started asking guys out? Not that there's anything wrong with a woman making the first move. It's just not what I do, and I'm uncomfortable waiting at the bar alone for him.
I grab my phone from my purse and text Charlotte.
Hot date tonight with Tripp, the nurse from the hospital.
Charlotte and I met last summer at a frat party at NYU. We have an agreement that if we ever go out with a stranger, we meet him in a public place but also let each other know the details, just in case they turn out to be a kidnapper and toss one of us in the back of their trunk.
Charlotte watches a little too much true crime, and I think she's starting to rub off on me.
Details, and text me when you get home.
I bite down on my tongue, tempted to answer her with a “Yes, Mom,” but I think better of it.
Of course, I text and shove my phone into my purse. I don't want to be that girl on our date—the one who's staring at her phone and more interested in her text messages than the man she's conversing with.
I order a Long Island iced tea, and the bartender asks to see my identification. I grab my fake ID from my wallet and slide it across the bar to him.
He scrutinizes it for a minute before handing it back.
I'll be twenty-one in a few months, but I've been pulling off the fake ID for well over a year. The bar is loud already, and then the front door swings open, giving way to a group of guys barreling in together, happy and full of spunk.
One of them leans across the bar and asks the bartender to change the channel on the television, and a sports recap is playing on the screen. I glance from the screen to the guys, and I swear, the one with dark hair and the cutest smile is the same guy on the screen.
The screen displays an interview following the hockey game. The name at the bottom of the screen readsJasper Greyson.
It's definitely him, unless he has a twin brother or a body double.
I can't help but stare, and when he notices, he offers me a friendly smile. He stands at the counter, ordering drinks for the table, and then he saunters off without so much as a hello.
At least I got a smile.
Not that I should care.
I'm waiting for Tripp to show up, and I try not to glance at my watch, but he's definitely a few minutes late.
He didn't mention having to work today, but it's possible he could have gotten stuck at the hospital. He's an ER nurse, and it wouldn't be unusual for him to have to work a double shift or something. At least, that's what I'm telling myself in light of him showing up late.
I sip my drink and glance at the door.
Tripp comes walking in, looking sexy as hell. I exhale a tiny breath, my hands trembling from nerves.
I'm a virgin. Never been kissed. Completely inexperienced with guys. But that doesn't mean I haven't been out on dates. I just like to take my time. I don't want to jump into something that I'm not ready for, and quite frankly, all the guys in high school and at college are super immature.
I take another swig of the Long Island iced tea, doing my best to settle the butterflies that are making me nauseous.
I'm not sure why this guy, Tripp, makes me nervous. Maybe it's because he's a few years older than I am. He's also hot. Like, just staring at him for a few minutes will give me fantasies to live off of for the next couple of months.
