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“Are you going to talk to him?” Tatum asks excitedly, her eyes flicking between the three of us.
Tatum knows that we work together at Face-Off, but she doesn’t know what happened between us. It’s not that I wanted to keep it from her; there just wasn’t really a reason to tell her.
Until now, that is.
“Um, no, probably not. It’s not like we really know each other that well.”
She sighs. “Care, are you really going to rob me of my dream to be a hockey WAG? Noah Chaney. Let that sink in. Do not do this to me.”
I glance over at Hudson, who’s now standing at the bar with his friend, not looking in my direction at all.
“How about we go dance again? Ilovethis song.” I grin, tugging on her hand and pulling her back toward the dance floor. But her feet are nearly glued to the ground, and she stands unwavering.
Shit. She is not going to give up on this. I have to tell her.
“Okay, I have to tell you something. Like right now.” Before she can protest, I drag her along to the back of the bar by the bathroom, where it’s slightly quieter and tucked off from the packed crowd.
“Before I tell you this, you have to swear on your Cartier bangles that you will never repeat a word of this to anyone. Ever. Under any circumstance.”
“Duh. What’s happening?”
I let out a shaky sigh before the words fly out of my mouth in a rush. “I slept with him.”
She goes completely still, her eyes so wide it’s almost comical.
“What do you mean you had sex with him? Wait, which one are we talking about?” she asks like that’s the most important part of what I just told her.
“Ugh, okay. So, I went to the cup party. You know, the one when they win the championship?” She rolls her eyes as I continue. “I met him outside, and he was funny, and one thing led to another and we had the best sex ever in a broom closet. I didn’t know who he was at the time, and he obviously didn’t know who I was. We kind of used fake names?”
“Which one? You still haven’t answered that question. God, I’m freaking out, Caroline!”
I rub my temples as my alcohol-fuzzy brain tries to sift through the questions coming my way. “Take a guess, Tatum…”
“Romeo. Got it,” she mumbles, shock still written on her face. “Caroline, I can’t believe you had sex with Romeo! He’s a literal fucking god on the ice. Wait, you had no freakin’ clue who he was?” Her eyes turn dreamy as she speaks. “I bet he has the biggest dick ever, and he probably fucks like a god too.”
I slap my hand over her mouth as a group of girls walks by us, my eyes widening. “Please do not ever repeat any of that, ever again. Actually, we’re just going to pretend I never even told you and that it actually didn’t even happen. We’re supposed to never talk about it again, ever, so you have to act like you know nothing. Which is why I can’t introduce you because I’m trying to avoid him.”
“I mean, you’ve had the man’s dick inside you, babe. A little late for that.”
Groaning, I drop my head back in exasperation, causing my hat to fall backward slightly, the string around my chin keeping it on.
“Seriously, Tatum. We are just going to pretend we didn’t even see them. We agreed to not speak about it again, and we work together now. On top of the fact that he’s on my dad’s team… it’s just messy. We’re friends, and I don’t want to cause any drama or cross any lines.”
She nods as she speaks. “Okay, we’re going to go back to the bar, get another round of shots, and act like we didn’t even see him.” Tatum nods again. “Okay, yes. That’s what we will do. God, you’re a literal frickin’ legend right now, Caroline. You fuckedRomeoand didn’t even give him your name. Do you know how many girls would literally die just to be looked at by that man? Honestly.”
“Tatum…” I say in exasperation, and she holds her hands up in surrender.
“Fine. Fine. But if the opportunity ever arises, just know I am so down for that man. Chaney. Not Romeo.” She loops her arm in mine, and we head to the bar, where I do my absolute best to look everywhere except where he’s standing.
I don’t want things to be weird, and even though I think we’re kind of friends now, I’d rather just hang with Tatum and do my thing.
The bar is much more packed now, but Tatum flags the bartender down and orders us a round of Jägerbombs.
“So, here’s the plan. You need to meet some hot guys, not the two extremely hot but off-limits,”—she lowers her voice—“hockey players, and get to know people besides me. So, we’re going to take shots, then I’m going to introduce you to a few people.”
“Yes, exactly. And I need to dance because that was so much fun.”
We wait for our shots, and once the bartender slides them across the sticky bar, we toss them back and head toward a table of people that Tatum says she knows.
