Puck Buddies Page 11

  “Yeah. I did as you said and asked her if she wanted to hang again.”

  Bev pauses again. “Hang? Again?”

  “Yeah?” I don’t like her tone.

  “Like booty call hang?”

  “No, like see if she wanted to hang out.”

  “Sweet Jesus,” she groans into the phone. “Boys are so dumb. The last time you hung out with Sami she was your borrowed whore in the backseat. So if you say ‘hang again,’ of course that’s where her brain is going. She thinks you just booty called her. What kind of gentleman booty calls?”

  “A busy one!” I am getting defensive.

  “Don’t you snap at me. You called me, shithead. And me and Mike just lost at Pong because of it.”

  “I just need to know if it’s good or bad that she showed up?”

  “Good, if you want something with this girl. But she upped the ante, letting you know she’s into it, but you’re gonna have to work a lot harder for her. If you want some of that, it’s gonna cost effort. She’s a smart girl. She knows her worth. She just let you know it too.”

  “Great.” I close my eyes and nod. “I have a game almost every second day of the season. I’m busy as balls for the next three months, longer if we make the playoffs. How much effort?”

  “What am I psychic? I’m your cousin, not some gypsy. Take a cold shower and beat the Ducks into a pulp with all your horn-dog rage. Forget about girls, especially Sami-friggin’-Ford. She’ll eat you alive.” She laughs and hangs up on me.

  I sit for a full five minutes, arguing with myself as best as I can with the oatmeal I currently have residing in my head; all the blood in my body is stuck in my cock.

  “Effort?” I whisper, knowing the answer to the question of how much time I have for girls.

  I don’t have time for effort.

  I liked the easy bang.

  Having no commitments is easy.

  No commitments also means Sami’s single, and the idea of her being single and other men touching her has me in a dark place. Not as dark as the place I went when I confronted Drew for making the video, but dark enough.

  I don’t have time to even stew on this. I have two more game clips to review a hundred times before I get on a plane tomorrow to fly to Anaheim and crush the Ducks.

  I don’t have time to chase Sami Ford, but I don’t have the desire to walk away from her.

  It’s a predicament.

  Chapter Twelve

  Shrinkage

  Sami

  “If I could moonwalk in these heels, I super would,” I gush into the phone to Linda on the elevator ride down.

  “See, now as long as you control the aspects and the depth you allow yourself to become immersed in this pseudo relationship, you’ll find a level of comfort.”

  “I know, right? He acted like he might die of a heart attack and he begged me to stay.”

  “Sami, I’m going to be brutally honest, just like you pay me to be. You should consider the fact you like torturing this boy so much. You sound like a married couple. You are clearly preoccupied with him a lot more than any other guy in the past. There’s a reason for that.”

  “Thanks, Linda.” I roll my eyes.

  “Night, Sami.” She ends the call, no doubt excited to be free of me. Paying her an extra hundred grand a year to tell me the brutally honest truth instead of trying to shrink my head has changed my life. She doesn’t tell me what will fix me, just what the truth is. She’s my go-to for everything and never tries to sound like a parent.

  I used to confide in my friends—well, Nat—about boys but I found that girls say the right thing and not the honest thing when it comes to advice about boys. Linda doesn’t give a shit about me. And she doesn’t sugarcoat anything. I told her to think like a young woman who likes to get laid and tell me exactly what is smart. She doesn’t always focus on smart though. She’s the one who convinced me that meaningless sex wasn’t making me feel good about myself. And she was right. Every now and then I like a boy more than he likes me, and I read more into the relationship than he does. No point in casual sex when one person can’t be casual about it.

  Like with Matt.

  I can’t be casual, not the way he is.

  I wrote about him in my journal and have compared every kiss in the last couple of years to our kiss in the cab.

  I’m glad I called Linda and didn’t risk telling Nat about him. She’s a romantic at heart. She would have us picking out china in a matter of hours.

  Not that I want a boyfriend.

  Well, maybe I do.

  I don’t know.

  But even if I did, it wouldn’t be a dumb hockey player who treats me like a whore.

  And in the end, Linda is right, I do need to get over the hate I have for him. It’s not doing me any good, and we clearly see each other a lot. I need to resolve the issue and take back the power. Then when I see him it’s not me with the aching chest.

  Having him pine for me is better than having me hate him.

  In my head the theory means I’ll look less crazy, but I’m not sure it’s sound though.

  I hurry down the street to the car and jump in, grinning at Vincenzo as he closes the door. “Can we stop quick and get a few things?” I ask as I lean forward, through the window.

  “Of course. What is it you’re looking for?”

  “Nat is coming over in like an hour for a slumber party with a couple of girls from our grad class, so I just want to make sure I have everything.”

  “Citarella Gourmet?”

  “Yes, please.”

  When we get to the apartment after shopping, Vincenzo carries the bags up for me. He goes to the kitchen as I head for the stairs.

  “A Mr. Brimley is in the parlor.” Nadia gives me a slight grin and follows Vincenzo into the kitchen to prepare the food I’ve brought.

  “What?” I watch her walk, giving her a weird look as butterflies try to escape my stomach.

  “You heard me.” She glances back and smiles wide, pointing at the parlor.

  “No. That wasn’t how it was supposed to work.” I swallow hard, sensing all the power I’ve gained slipping through my fingers. Why is he here? What does that mean? Is he onto me?

  Shit!

  My feet take the steps my head isn’t ready for, forcing me into the hallway. I gulp, slap a smug grin on my face, and saunter like I might just be half as confident as I hope he thinks I am.

  My insides dance but I open the door, ignoring the nerves.

  “Hey.” I close the door and lean against it.

  He’s standing in the window with his back to me. “Hey.” He says it without turning around.

  "What are you doing here?”

  “I needed to see you.” He turns and leans against the window, not moving either. There’s a large room between us but it feels small. “I was thinking, if you’re alone because your parents are in London, and I’m alone because mine are in Italy, why don’t we make Christmas Eve dinner together, like you and I each cook something? Then we could hang out on Christmas and go skating in the park and enjoy the quiet of the city.”

  “Uhhhh—I mean, yeah. Sure. We could do that.” What the ever-loving fackkkkk? Christmas Eve dinner? Skating in the park? This is way more than dinner and him trying to screw me and me playing with his head a little.

  Sweet Jesus.

  “I thought it would be a good way to get to know each other. For real.”

  Why don’t we just get married and call it a day?

  Is he screwing with me?

  I don’t know the response I should have.

  Do I laugh and say no so I don’t look needy?

  Or do I accept and play it off like it’s no biggie?

  Oh my God.

  He’s like a master of messing with me.

  Why’s he being so sweet?

  I need Linda.

  “And I also know what I want to do now.”

  “Why didn’t you just call?” I’m scared of what he’s going to say next. Th
e whole skating in the park thing is tugging at the soft stupid parts of my heart.

  “I needed to see you.” He pushes off from the window and crosses the room, not quickly but too quickly for me to react. He puts his hands on the door, pinning me here. He lowers his face, speaking softly, so close to mine I feel his words on my lips. “I think I say and do the wrong things with you. I was worried I might not get the point across properly if I called. I want you to see I need to fix this.”

  The nervous feeling he creates in my stomach hits hard.

  “And I hate the way you look at me after I say something I think is okay. So I was thinking we could hang out now, right now, and you could tell me exactly what I did to piss you off. From the very moment we met. And I could apologize properly and never do those things again.”

  “Did you do some drugs before you came here?” Not that there was time for drugs.

  “No.”

  It’s a weird request but it’s also unpredictable. I never saw it coming. It’s not dinner or drinks or just fucking again. Combining it with Christmas Eve and skating in the park makes me uncomfortable and panicky.

  “Please, just tell me everything you hated so I know.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Yes, you do. When was the first time I let you down?”

  “When you didn’t come and find me after the kiss in the cab. You just walked away and let it be.” The words fall from my parted lips. Fortunately, I stop myself before I mention I still have his suit jacket in my closet, hanging up.

  “I thought you were dating my friend.” He looks so cute the way he says it, like he’s some honorable guy and not a pervert who gets his driver to tour the city while he bangs chicks in the backseat.

  Remembering that enrages me again. I take a break. “I broke up with him. He was fucking my friend in London. I was single in the black cab.”

  “That wouldn’t have changed anything.” He wrinkles his forehead. “I had this rule: I didn’t date girls my friends had already dated.”

  “That’s stupid. What are you, seven? You can’t share your toys, Beast?” I am unable to resist the urge to laugh bitterly.

  “You’re not the first person to tell me that,” he concedes. “I’m sorry I’m a moron. I wish I could take it all back. All the stupid rules and thoughts and the times I let you down. All I can do now is be different.”

  “I forgive you.” I truly mean it. How can I not after that?

  “What else is there?” he asks with a smile.

  “You really want this?” I can’t believe he does.

  “I do.”

  “Fine. You were a shit in the bar when you didn’t even acknowledge me that night I got super trashed. You acted like we didn’t know each other and we did. And I didn’t understand. It hurt my feelings, like the kiss was some cheap shit you were ashamed of. And I didn’t feel that way.” I can’t believe I’ve said it aloud. I’m being vulnerable. Linda would be so proud.

  “I didn’t know if you wanted to explain to anyone how we knew each other. I wondered if you felt awkward when you saw me in the bar, you kept giving me weird looks. So I thought we could start fresh and not be the people we were in London.”

  “I liked you in London.” Again I’m stunned at the words leaving my mouth.

  “And I have liked you for far longer than London, but every time I get a chance to see you, you have a boyfriend. And we run in the same circles so they’re always guys I know.”

  “Who said anything about dating?” I cock an eyebrow. “You honestly seem like you’re only into sex.”

  “I think I’ve given you the wrong impression about me too. I swear, I’m not like that either. Like I said, I’ve liked you far longer than London.”

  I almost lose the strength in my knees when he says that. “How long?”

  “A while.” He looks down. “What else is there?”

  I lower my head, fighting for the bravery I always act like I have. “I don’t have sex in cars while someone drives me around. Ever. I’m working on my—anyway, it wasn’t cool if you ever wanted to see me again. That’s something you do to someone you don’t want to see again.”

  “And I treated you like you don’t mean anything?”

  I lift my gaze to his, sensing the burn in my stare. “Uh, ya think? You threw the dirty condom on the ground and offered me a ride back to the bar. As if you were going to pick up again. You really think that was cool?”

  “No. But I don’t really think when I’m around you.”

  I swallow the lump that’s building in my throat. For whatever reason being honest with him is killing me. I’m on the edge of crying. “I’m sorry I called you blue collar and treated you so badly. You wounded my pride and I acted like a dick.”

  “I’m sorry for everything from the moment I left you in the cab in London.” His eyes are lit with a form of green fire.

  “Black cab.” I grin.

  He laughs but it’s not real. There’s something else stopping him from laughing.

  “What do you want, Matt? Why are you here? We barely know each other, and we’ve been nothing but mean to each other. If you truly think about it, we both think we know the other person but what do we know?”

  “We have awesome sex.”

  “Right. But what else is there? Is there a reason at all to try to make this be anything beyond that one time we had awesome sex?”

  “I don’t know. I know I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s been years. But at the same time, I don’t have anything to offer. I work hard for eight months of the year and girls are the last thing on the schedule. And yet you have me undone, and I can’t seem to get it back together. You freak out so easily and the next thing I know I’m upside down.” He lifts a hand to my cheek. “But it seems like the last thing I want is to be right-side up.”

  “I want to know what you think. You’re all up in my grill about why I was so angry with you, but I think the reason was that I didn’t understand your motives. You act like I’m nothing to you, and yet here you are playing me again. Why?” I refuse to give up the hard-earned power shift between us.

  “You’re not nothing.” He lowers his lips to mine, brushing one of those soft and delicious kisses I get lost in. “You’re killing me, trust me.”

  “Good.” I lift his face, separating us. “Now I have plans, so you have to go. We can both think about what the other person has said and talk about it over dinner.”

  He scowls. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want you to have plans.”

  “What?” My back straightens as I prepare for the war between us to refresh itself.

  “This.” He tugs at my trench, untying it to reveal a tee shirt and fuzzy shorts. “I did not see that as a possibility for what was under this jacket.” He cocks his head, stepping back.

  “Why?” I look down on the outfit. “I have a slumber party in ten minutes.”

  “Slumber.” A stupid look crosses his face. “With other girls?”

  “Of course. What exactly did you think was happening?” I know what it looked like. I’m not an idiot. I wore the coat on purpose, and I am loving the look on his face.

  “I mean, it’s a trench coat and boots, and you’re you.”

  “A slut?” My humor fades rapidly. “This is why you can’t have nice things, Beast!”

  “No. You just always have someone you’re stringing along.” He says it and shakes his head, seeing the shocked expression on my face. “No. Wait. That’s not what I mean.” He steps back in, scooping me into his arms and pressing his face into my neck. “I mean, you’re a girl who has fun and has no rules and just does what she wants. So when I see a girl like you in a trench coat with boots and bare legs I assume you’re about to rock someone’s world. I wanted it to be mine, and I was crushed when it wasn’t.” He kisses softly. “I don’t want you to rock anyone’s world. Just my world.” He pulls back and winces. “That’s too much, right? I sound like a needy chick, don’t I? I swear I�
�m cooler than this.”

  “Oh, I know you’re cooler. I got played in that limo by the cooler side of you. You’re a player. That move with the limo was smooth; it was perfect. You’ve done that before, a lot. And I don’t want to hear that you haven’t. It was a precision effort.”

  His eyes lower as he bites his lip, the look of guilt.

  “So you will have to excuse me if I don’t believe you and the things you’re saying. There’s an old saying that warns when someone shows you who they are, you should believe them. You’ve shown me that when no one is looking you are all about me, but when anyone else is around I might as well not even be in the room. In the black cab you kissed me, in the bar you ignored me. In the bar we fought and ignored each other. In the car we fucked and you made it perfectly clear you were done caring about me from the moment you came in me.”

  “That’s not true.” His eyes widen. “You just got weird. You tensed and freaked out.”

  “Because you and I didn’t seem to have the same—” I take a breath. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “See, this is the problem.” He lifts a hand. “I don’t want to fight. I swear to the gods, we don’t communicate at all. You’re talking and I’m talking and nothing is being said. Let’s just agree to have dinner on Christmas Eve. Leave it at that. I’ll go now before your friends come over so you don’t have to explain why I’m—”

  “I’m not embarrassed to be seen with you. Yes, you’re a stinky hockey player who’s known for being the black sheep of his family—”

  “You’re doing that thing again, where you think I’m saying something that I’m not saying, but I’m not saying what I actually want to say the right way. I’ll see you Saturday night.” He nods once and walks to me, lifts me into his arms and kisses me. It’s not passionate or intense and yet it is. There’s no fire like we might rip each other’s clothes off but there’s something. He spins me, puts me down, opens the door, and flees from the house.

  I don’t know what just happened, but I’m blushing and standing in the same spot moments later when Nat comes in crying.

  There’s no way I can tell her about my weirdly arranged date when she’s suddenly single again and everything is a hot mess.