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My embarrassment is far from over as my dad and I take the elevator to my apartment. I hug him when we reach my floor, thank him for the pancakes, and tell him I’ll see him later. He asks for the seven-hundred-and-fifth time if I’m okay. I tell him I’m preoccupied because I have a project due on Monday. This is not untrue, but it’s ninety-five percent finished. I don’t typically lie to my dad unless it’s to avoid hurting his feelings, but in this case, I can’t tell him the truth. Better for him to believe it’s school stress.
I’m relieved when the elevator doors slide closed, allowing me the nervous freaking breakdown I spent all our meal fighting. I don’t know why Hollis thought it was a good idea to bring my vibrator to the restaurant masquerading as a gift. I would honestly be fine with that remaining an eternal mystery, but avoiding him forever will be a challenge.
I try not to think about the fact that Hollis touched my Batdick when he rolled it in that towel. But now the idea is in my head, and my mind is sinking into the gutter. I wonder if he’s ever fucked someone with their vibrator. I try to blink away the sudden image of me spread out on his bed, naked, and him wearing a too-small towel, holding it.
“Ugh, this needs to stop,” I mutter as I let myself into my apartment.
Rix stopped answering messages about twenty minutes ago, so she’s probably with Tristan. Getting laid. I sigh. I wish I had someone who sent me gifts all the time and wanted to be naked with me. Tristan worships the ground she walks on. It’s been months since my last date. With a pro-hockey-player dad, university guys don’t get my life.
“Fuck.” I almost trip over Tristan’s giant sneakers because he’s left them in the middle of the floor.
I have just enough time to anxiety pee before Hollis knocks. I know it’s him because he raps three times quickly, then pauses and knocks twice more. I wipe my damp palms on my jeans, take a deep breath, and throw open the door. Hollis’s winter jacket is unzipped, revealing his black Toronto Terror hoodie with the angry Canada goose emblem. His jeans do an annoyingly great job of highlighting his amazing hockey thighs.
I wish he wasn’t so hot. I also wish I hadn’t left my vibrator on his nightstand like an idiot, because it says more than I’d like about my feelings for him. But I can’t take it back, so the only way forward is to deal with it. It doesn’t mean I plan to be honest; it just means we get to have this awkward conversation. Hopefully once it’s over, I can forget about it for the rest of my life. Not likely.
This is probably the most mortified I’ve ever been. And that’s saying something since I’ve accidentally seen my dad’s wiener twice in the past six months.
“Explain.” Hollis steps inside and crosses his arms.
His gruff tone and one-word order do all kinds of conflicting things to my body. I’m sweaty, I’m anxious, and now I’m horny. It’s made that much worse by his deliciously furrowed brow and pouty lips.
I let the door fall closed and mentally will the flush making its way up my chest to stop before it reaches my cheeks. Based on the heat level in my face, I’m unsuccessful. “I didn’t mean to forget Batdick at your place.” Or to refer to it as Batdick. But I can’t take either thing back.
“I fucking hope not,” Hollis grumbles.
“You won’t tell my dad, will you?” I throw up a little in my mouth at the possibility.
He stares at me but says nothing.
I get on my pro-self-exploration high horse. “I am an adult, and I do have needs.” I immediately want to pluck those words from his ears and stuff them back into my ridiculous mouth.
His cheek tics. “Why are you taking care of them in my goddamn bed?”
He’s so hot when he’s angry. I cross my arms and spew more nonsense. “You don’t know that for sure.”
He tips his head.
If panties were made of sugar, mine would melt off my body from his expression alone. “Maybe it fell out of my bag while I was playing with the kitties.”
He pokes at his top lip with his tongue. “Onto my nightstand?”
I swallow ten liters of anxiety saliva. “Postie likes to go in there and hunt for treats.”
“And one of those treats was your vibrator?” He holds up a hand when I open my mouth.
“I need to tell you something important.” His nostrils flare with his exhale. “I put up kitty cams in the penthouse last week and forgot to tell you about them.”
“Kitty cams?” I parrot.
He runs a hand through his hair. “They’re movement activated. Ash and Shilpa have them for their dogs. I thought it would be good for away games.”
Ashish Palaniappa is one of my dad and Hollis’s teammates, and Shilpa, his wife, is the team lawyer and one of my friends. I blink at him. “Where are they?”
“The living room and my bedroom.”
My breath leaves me on a whoosh. I grab the edge of the counter for support. “You recorded me?”
“It was supposed to record Postie and Malone,” he reminds me.
