Pucked

“I think literacy is sexy,” I whisper.

“Me, too.” His dimples make an appearance.

He shrugs and gives me a grin that could obliterate my panties

“Dick thinks it’s better for me to appear available until it’s over.”

“Available?”

“Unattached.” He swallows.

My stomach bottoms out. “There are pictures of us together everywhere.”

“I know. So does he. It’s stupid.” Alex sighs. “It could help me secure that big endorsement campaign, Violet. I have to start thinking about my career outside of being on the ice.”

I know this. Hockey careers are short. It’s the reason I have my job and also the reason I have to do it well. It doesn’t mean I have to like what he’s telling me, though. “Is this why we’ve been staying in the past few weeks?”

“I’m trying to fly under the radar. I don’t want you caught up in all my crap.”

It’s another evasive answer. I try a different angle. “Does Dick know you’ve asked me to move in with you?”

“No.”

“Don’t you think you should tell him if you’re serious about being with me?”

Alex skims my cheek with his knuckles. “You’re right. I should. I will. I’ll talk to him this week.”

“Promise?”

“Promise, baby.” He holds out his arms. “Come snuggle with me.”

I settle with my cheek on his chest. His arms wind tight around me, his heart beating hard beneath the cage of flesh and bone. Our conversation should make me feel better. Instead I worry about what else he might be keeping from me.

“What’s wrong with you coming here?”

“Nothing. I just thought it would be nice if it was equitable.” I scour the board one last time. There’s no good place to put my word, and without a double-letter score of some kind, I’ll only manage eight points.

“You should move in here.” He says it nonchalantly, but his eyes are on his tiles and his hand is still wrapped around his mostly hard cock.

My heart does this fluttery thing. I’m not sure whether he’s kidding.

“We’ve been dating for what, like two months? Yeah, I think moving in with you is totally reasonable.” If we’d been dating a few months longer, I’d jump at the opportunity. Things have been so crazy lately. His evasiveness in interviews isn’t canceled out by how much time we spend together, or introducing me to his friends and family.

“It’s close to three months. You don’t want to move in with me?” He’s peeking up at me from under his pretty, long man-lashes, looking hurt.

“It’s not that.”

He turns off the light and slips his arm under me, drawing me against his side.

“Fall asleep with me?”

I pass out with my cheek on his chest and his lips on my temple

“It’s an honor to be nominated,” Alex says, running his hand through his sweaty hair.

He seems uncomfortable. A sea of people surround him, and I’m short, so he can’t see me.

Another fragmented question filters through the crowd. Dammit, I wish I could hear what they’re asking.

“. . . rumors about your relationship . . .”

Alex blinks nervously. “I thought we were going to talk about the game, not my personal life.”

Another reporter pipes up. “So the rumors are true?”

The mic crackles with static, but his next statement is foghorn clear. “No comment.” He scans the crowd, and his guilty expression makes my stomach turn.

Everything feels like it’s moving in slow motion. I want to kick the shit out of someone. I want to cry. This is the same as a complete denial, which makes me look like a total hockey hooker. I’m pissed.

It’s obvious he lied about talking to Dick, and just last night he asked me to move in with him. Again. None of this makes sense.

His answer feeds the vultures. “. . . The woman you’ve been seen with . . .”

The words just friends drop like a sewage-filled balloon.

Everything else is drowned out by the media’s questions. I’ve heard enough, anyway. If I have to listen to him a second longer, I’ll projectile vomit all over his fucking fans.

I push through the crowd, desperate to escape. I don’t look back. I’m sure I can catch my own humiliation on YouTube later.

I’ve learned an invaluable lesson today: Never trust a hockey player

“Waters. Out here. Now.” Coach calls from the doorway, his phone clutched in his hand.

“Yes, sir.” Alex kisses my temple. “Don’t worry, baby, it’ll be fine.”

“Don’t you call her ‘baby’!” Buck points a hairy-knuckled finger at Alex.

I slap it away. “I happen to enjoy it when Alex calls me ‘baby.’ ” I turn my face into Alex’s shoulder and say softly, “Particularly in the throes of passion.”

Buck throws his hands up in exasperation. “Will you two stop?”

Alex kisses the top of my head and saunters away, a slight swagger in his step.

“What the hell is going on here? The coach comes in, surveying the scene with a critical, confused eye. “Who hired a hooker? You know the policy on that.”

“Oh my God.” I grip the towel tight and hide behind my hand, utterly mortified.

“Watch it, Coach. That’s my sister.” Buck’s tone, while controlled, holds warning and a lot of pent-up anger. I’m thinking that’s mostly due to walking in on the locker sex—oh, and the fact that I’m now being pegged as a puck bunny of the lowest form.

“Your sister’s a hooker?” Coach asks.

What the hell? Is everyone in this room below intellectual average other than Alex? More importantly, do I look like a hooker? I suppose my nakedness paints me as such. I peek out from between my fingers—I’ve ascribed to the childish notion if I can’t see anyone, no one can see me either.

Alex hulks out again, taking a protective stance in front of me. “She’s not a hooker; she’s my girlfriend!” he roars.

Literally, he roars. It’s loud and guttural. It makes my ears hurt since he’s so close.

Buck shifts his angry glare from Alex to me. “What’s wrong with you?” He’s back to yelling.

“Pardon me?” I ask, all snarky.

“Do you think we could get a towel?” Alex asks.

“Screw you! I’m not getting you shit,” Buck replies.

“It’s not for me, asshole. It’s for Violet. Unless you’d like the entire team to see her naked.” Alex matches him, even voiced and calm.

Darren, who’s valiantly trying to keep his eyes averted, tosses a towel to Alex, who in turn hands it to me. Once I’m wrapped up, Buck takes a swing at Alex. It’s totally unexpected; at least I don’t expect it. Apparently Alex does. He grabs me around the waist and moves us out of the way. I feel the whoosh of air on my cheek as Buck’s giant fist misses my face by mere inches.

Alex sets me down and shoves Buck, hard. “What’s wrong with you? You could’ve hurt her.”

Buck still has skates on; he stumbles backward, struggling to stay upright. Darren and Kirk move in as if to break them up.

“Enough!”

“Let me handle this, baby.”

“Did you just call her ‘baby’? How long has this been going on? Get your damn hands off my sister!” Buck’s face is an unnatural shade of red; verging on purple. He looks like he’s going to have a heart attack