Page 44 of Pucked Up Plans
Maybe other parts of us come together as well. As in, his dick in my…
Stopping this train of thought, I pant out, “Yes. A movie. Yes. For sure. Let’s do that.”
Way to sound so affected there, Tate.
Except I’m a hella lot affected by his kiss. By him being here. By the man himself.
I wasn’t expecting him at the door when it rang earlier. He flustered me. Even after making dinner, giving Aubrey a longbath, reading three books, and tucking her into bed, I was still pissed at the way he dismissed me on the phone.
Then he showed up. With flowers. A stunning autumn arrangement of various varieties. It’s like he knew my weakness without me giving it up. Which seems totally cliché—what girl doesn’t love flowers? My dad came home every Friday night with some “for his girls” ever since I can remember. I’ve been spoiled and molded to think that’s what men did. Boy, was that a wake-up call I learned the hard way.
But no. Walsh. Focus on Walsh.
His showing up with the bouquet nearly set my heart aflame right then. His actions instantly earned him forgiveness. A sincere apology and flowers go a long way in my book, and upon his own accord, he did both.
Damn, two more boxes ticked off my checklist. Major ones, too. And he’s so great with kids because he’s a dad. I might as well serve my heart and vagina up to him on a silver platter.
Again, Walsh’s voice breaks into the train wreck my mind conjures up.
“Any preferences on a movie choice?”
“Huh?” His question requires a lot of processing time because I’m too busy hooking up with him in my mind. Heat sears my cheeks. Hopefully, I can recover quickly, making him think I’m embarrassed by not knowing what he said. And because I want to see him naked.
Cue the redder cheeks.
“I’m not picky. I’ve got Netflix and Prime. Oh, and Disney Plus.” As if any movies on there appeal to him.
“Where’s your remote?”
Reluctantly, I move away from being tucked into him and a cool rush of air hits me. Or maybe it feels that way since he was so warm and now I’m practically frigid as I walk to the entertainment center to grab the remotes. Back on the couch,I hand them to him before dropping onto the sofa. I debate whether to move next to him or sit on the opposite side. Walsh decides for me when he all but urges me to curl back into him. The smile sprouting on my lips prompts a similar one from him.
He entangles his fingers in my hair. I don’t hate it. “Thanks for not turning me away earlier, especially after the stupid things I said on the phone. This is a nice way to spend a Friday evening.”
As much as his tone is genuine, I hardly believe he can think this is a good way to spend a Friday night. Not when he’s in college. Surely there are parties to go to, beer to drink, girls to defile.
The last thought turns my stomach.
I lean my head so I can see him. “Isn’t Friday night a huge party night in college? Especially on nights you don’t have Lennon. Why wouldn’t you choose those over this?”
“Can’t drink much during the season. And Lennon’s not the only reason I don’t live on campus.”
“Why else?”
“The cost, for one. But also, because it’s not really my scene. Even when it’s not the middle of hockey season, I have little interest in getting plastered or hit on by rando college girls who only want me because I play hockey.”
“Would not being a dad change your mind?”
“I’ve never given it much consideration.” He pauses, gathering his thoughts. The fingers of his left hand continue to twirl my hair and the other hand scrolls through movies on Netflix. “Before Lennon, hockey was always my focus. If I had to guess, I’d assume probably not.”
“That’s honest and realistic.” At least it sounds like it is. What the heck do I know about the partying habits of college seniors?
“Forever My Girlgood?”
“Whatever.”
Once it starts, he sets the remote on the table next to him before inching me closer, which warms me up at how intimate he wants us and turns me on. As much as I want to be turned on by him, now isn’t the time. But beggars can’t be choosers.
Even though it’s not too late, I don’t mention how it’s likely I’ll fall asleep. The motion of his twirls and my head resting on his shoulder do little to encourage me to keep my heavy eyes open.
