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As if her being fully clothed somehow made what I did less of a betrayal.
And now I can’t get the other night out of my head. Can’t erase the memory of her soft whimpers and deep moans, of the wet sounds, of my name on her lips when she came.
I thought I was fucked after the kiss. Then I thought I was even more fucked after the dry fuck. But the phone sex. God, the fucking phone sex.
“You all right, man? You seem a little out of it tonight. Pain levels okay?” Roman asks, like the good friend he is.
“Doing okay.” My knee aches, but not unmanageably. I’m used to the stiffness when I first walk, to the familiar ache that fades after a couple of minutes. With four hours of physical therapy a day, regular massages, chiropractic, osteopathy, and a lot of time in the pool, my range of motion is returning. Does it mean I’ll be able to get back on the ice anytime soon? Who knows.
“Something else eating at you then?” Roman presses.
I dry fucked your daughter while you were away and then had phone sex with her three nights ago and can’t stop thinking about how much I’d like to do it again. But not over the phone.
She hasn’t messaged me since, and it’s eating me alive. She seems to be handling this a hell of a lot better than I am. I don’t know what to say, and it feels like every conversation digs my hole deeper. But I don’t want to climb out of it. “Just preoccupied is all.”
“Fingers crossed you’ll get the all-clear in time for playoffs.” He claps me on the shoulder.
A woman recognizes us and invites me to the dance floor, but I politely decline.
“Why’d you turn her down? She seemed…fun.”
“I’m not really looking for fun.” The only woman I want, I shouldn’t have.
“Does that mean you changed your mind about a certain starlet?” He’s clearly on a fishing expedition.
Of course that’s what he thinks. “No, my feelings on that haven’t changed.” She’s texted a few times since I saw her. Once she suggested I visit her on set. Roman was around when I got that message and has been pushing me to give her another shot. He has no idea that I am obsessed with his daughter and already have my hands full. I’m definitely vying for the shittiest best friend of the year award.
“You worried about the gala?” Roman asks.
“Why would I be worried about the gala?” I’ve participated in the auction enough times to know what to expect. Although I feel conflicted about it this year. Usually, these dates end up being with someone’s grandmother, or a couple who just want to talk hockey. The way Flip’s date ended last year is an exception, and not the rule.
He gives me a look. “Didn’t you read the email from Hemi? She sent it this morning.”
“Uh, no. Why?” I had physical therapy this morning, followed by a barrage of other appointments, all meant to help me heal.
“Scarlet and a bunch of her castmates are attending.”
My grip tightens on my scotch. I needed something stronger than beer tonight, with Aurora looking like temptation personified. “I didn’t realize.” That is not ideal at all. I don’t want Aurora and Scarlet in the same room together, and now that’s unavoidable.
I look over at the dance floor, where Aurora and the rest of the girls are. They’re all dressed like princesses. Aurora must already know about Scarlet coming to the gala. Maybe that’s why she’s been quiet this week. I don’t know how to define what’s going on with Aurora. But I do know it’s getting harder to stay away. She’s breaking me, little by little, without even trying.
“Are you sure you don’t have some unresolved feelings? You’re pretty tense about it. I don’t want to push you.” Roman sips his bourbon.
I run a hand through my hair. Roman and I became fast friends when I was traded to Toronto seven years ago. He wasn’t into the party scene the way so many of the players my age had been. He had a teenage daughter, no partner, and a lot of responsibility. I was nursing a broken heart and had no interest in a string of meaningless flings. Using sex to get over having my heart ripped out seemed like the worst possible idea.
I’d always been private about my love life, but even more so after Scarlet and I split. Mostly because the world had a front-row seat to that breakup. We’d been out for dinner when it happened, and the argument was caught on camera. Two days later she gave a statement saying we’d broken up, and it had been amicable, but more pictures of that argument circulated, along with speculation. My lack of comment only fed the rumors. Then I moved to Toronto. Put my head down and channeled all my energy into hockey.
“I don’t have unresolved feelings about her,” I correct. “I have unresolved feelings about how things went down when I was traded to Toronto.”
The worst part had been seeing her on the arm of someone else less than two months after I moved. The breakup was enough of a gut punch, but that she’d gotten over us so quickly…that was a shot to the heart I hadn’t expected. Knowing I loved her so much more than she’d ever loved me.
“You were young. You’re in different places now.”
“She’s here for a few months, and then she’ll move back to LA.” Besides, there’s already enough chatter on the hockey sites about her coming to games. She’s always in the public eye, and with this new movie, that won’t change. Not that it matters since I’m not interested in rekindling our failed relationship.
“Okay, I’ll drop it.” He sips his drink. “I need to plan something for Peggy. Her birthday is just around the corner. I can’t believe she’s turning twenty-one. It feels like she just graduated high school.”
I wasn’t at her convocation, but I celebrated afterward with her family. She’d already been accepted at her university of choice, with a scholarship. Things had been different back then. She was still a kid.
