Pucked Over (Pucked #3) (36 page)

Alex drops the subject and tells me what to expect at the arena. It’s been a long time since I’ve done an interview. I’m legitimately nervous, but I must do okay, because they offer me the job on the spot. Randy’s plan to keep me to himself is overruled as a result, and we end up going out for dinner to celebrate with the whole group. It’s almost a good thing, because now that I know I’m moving to Chicago, I have to do something I’ve been holding off on.

After we eat, Sunny and Miller go back to his place, which gives me and Randy the entire night to ourselves at Sunny’s. It will be my place, too, in three weeks. That’s how long I have before I start my new job, in my new city.

Except I don’t want to move here and keep doing what I’m doing with Randy. I’m not good at casual. I know that now. I keep seeing how in love Violet, Sunny, and Charlene are. I can invite him in tonight, but it’s not going to help anything. I’m still going to feel the way I do, and I’m still going to be just the girl he fucks. Like a champ. It’s the perfect scenario for someone who isn’t me. I should have told him this wasn’t working for me ages ago, but the sex part was working so well I didn’t want to. I think I’m going to throw up.

Randy parks in front of the house and cuts the engine. Unbuckling his seatbelt, he starts to open his door and then realizes I’m not moving. He cocks his head. “What’s up? Why you still sittin’ there? I bet I can have you naked in, like, under a minute once we’re inside. Unless you’re feeling like street sex is more your speed tonight.”

I half-laugh, but the twist in my stomach makes it sound fake.

His grin drops.

I look down at my lap, exhaling a deep breath. I should have stopped this as soon as the fun started to turn into feelings. But I didn’t, and now I’m sitting here, choking on my words because I don’t want to say them. I have to.

“You okay?” He reaches out, brushing my hair from my face.

I want to lean into that touch. I want to wrap myself around him and never let go. But if I keep doing this with him, he’s going to break my heart. Well, that’s already happening, but at least I have some control over this decision.

I beat down the desire to jump him, which I know now isn’t just because he’s super amazing at sex. We have a connection when we’re naked, and when we’re not. It’s more than orgasms; I’m falling in love with him.

And not just the unclothed parts of him; it’s his sense of humor, his sweetness, his generosity. It’s everything. But it’s only a matter of time before he does to me what he’s done to every other girl before. He’ll get freaked out and cut ties. I know it’s coming. We’re getting too close. It’s becoming too real. He has to feel it, too.

This road ends like one of those old Bugs Bunny cartoons: there’s a sheer cliff I’ll drop off of eventually. Only I won’t pop back up and brush away the dirt as if nothing happened. If I do this now, the fall won’t be as far.

As least that’s what I tell myself when I say, “I don’t think you should come inside.”

He spins his keys on the chain. “You wanna come back to my place instead?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, either.”

Randy frowns. “Why not?”

My throat feels tight, and my stomach starts to roll. The amazing dinner I ate feels like it wants to make another appearance. “I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “What?”

“This.” I motion between us. “I don’t think it’s working.”

His shoulders tighten, and a half-smile appears. “You’re not enjoying the multiple orgasms anymore? I thought we were having fun.”

He’s hitting me with sarcasm, and for once I don’t dish it back. “We were.”

“So what’s the problem?”

I’ve caught him off guard. I’ve caught myself off guard, too. Only after I got the job did I truly realize I’ve been fooling myself. All I could think was how living in Chicago would mean more time with Randy. But not just in his bed—with friends, on dates, hanging out. All things that aren’t on the table. Or they aren’t supposed to be. I fiddle with my purse and give him back his words from the start of this thing we’ve been doing. “This isn’t just fun for me anymore, Randy.”

“I don’t get it.” He smoothes his hands down his thighs. “I thought you had a good time this week.”

“I did. I—” I take a deep breath. I don’t want to cry in front of him. I don’t want to be weak. He told me what this was. It’s not his fault I wasn’t honest with him before now. “That’s what this was supposed to be, right? Just fun. It feels like it’s getting too… serious. And I can’t—”

“Too serious?”

I wring my hands, unsure what to do with them. “I should’ve said something sooner.”

“What are you talking about?” He sounds irritated.

“I can’t move here and do this casual thing with you.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not just about the sex for me anymore.”

“But I’m your rebound.” His confusion makes me sad.

“I can’t make the feelings go away, Randy.” I look at him—at his gorgeous face, at the panic and the anger—and I know I’m right. It was only a matter of time. At least I didn’t humiliate myself and tell him I’m in love with him outright.

“You were supposed to tell me if it was getting to be too much.” He runs his hand through his hair, his frustration obvious. “I don’t understand. You just got out of a seven-year relationship. This was supposed to be simple.”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want things to change. Maybe we could see—”

He cuts me off before I can finish the sentence. “I can’t be your boyfriend, Lily. I almost screwed some chick because you couldn’t make a damn game.”

“But you didn’t. And that was—”

His anger is a wave rising. I don’t know if it’s directed at me or himself, but his words hit me like shattering glass. “The only reason I didn’t was because you showed up. I
will
fuck you over. Is that what you want?”

“No, Randy. That’s not what I want.”

He jams the key in the ignition and starts the truck. “Then I guess this is it.”

“I guess it is. I’d say we could still be friends, but I’m not so sure that would work out very well.” I leave off the rest, which would go something like this:
because I’m in love with you, and I’ll pine over you and cry if I see you with another girl.

“Probably not.” He’s staring straight ahead.

“If I left anything at your place—”

“I’ll give it to Miller to give to you. He’ll be over here all the time.”

“Okay.” I open the door and go to get out, but once again I’ve forgotten to unbuckle my seat belt, so I jerk back.

Randy reaches over and jabs the release with his thumb. He’s still not looking at me.

I lean over and press my lips against his cheek. The sensation is electric. He freezes. I pull away before I make any more bad decisions, like inviting him inside for one last naked session. Or stripping in his truck. “Bye, Randy. Thanks for the ride.”

“All of them, or this one in particular?”

It’s a shot. My heart feels like it’s made of sandstone, and it’s crumbling into dust inside my chest. None of my breakups with Benji ever felt like this.

“All of them, except for this one,” I say.

I slip out of the truck. Randy waits until I’ve unlocked the door to the house. Then he takes off down the street without so much as a parting wave.

I step inside the empty house and lock the door behind me. Randy’s absence feels like shards of glass buried in my chest. I don’t make it past taking my shoes off. I sit down on the floor, put my face in my hands, and cry.

Fun is Not my Middle Name

RANDY

I drove home on autopilot. I don’t remember stopping at lights or pulling into my driveway, but I’m sitting here, staring at my front door, so I must have obeyed the rules of the road. Otherwise there’d be cherries flashing in my rearview.

I cut the engine, but I don’t move. My truck still smells like Lily, so I wanna stay here a little longer. I don’t get what happened. I replay Lily’s time in Chicago in my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong—how I missed the signs. Or maybe I didn’t miss them at all. Maybe I decided not to see them because that would mean admitting I want more than I can have.

I was such an asshole to her.

I sit here until I can see my breath and start to shiver. Trudging to my door, I put my thumb to the keypad and turn the knob. The first thing I do is pour myself a generous shot of vodka. I have to fly out at seven-thirty tomorrow morning for a game. The last thing I should do is get drunk to manage whatever just happened. But I’m feeling shitty about this, so alcohol is the numbing agent of choice.

I get good and shitfaced and watch that little video I made while visiting Lily in Guelph, when I woke her up in the middle of the night for sex. I don’t watch it because I want to jerk off. I mean, yeah, it makes me hard—even as wasted as I am—but it’s the way she’s so unguarded. She’s looking at me like I’m more than just someone she’s passing time and exchanging orgasms with. I knew even then that it was more than what it was supposed to be, and I let it keep happening. Because I wanted it. I wanted her. And now I don’t get to have her at all.

***

Pounding on my door echoes the awful feeling in my head. I peel my eyes open and groan.

“Balls! We gotta roll!” It’s Miller.

I push up off the couch, and the world spins so much I fall forward over the coffee table. I don’t have great coordination, and my reaction time is shot—probably because I’m still drunk, and I’ve been shocked awake. I hit the floor with my face and taste blood.

It takes me a couple of tries to get my ass back up. I stumble to the foyer, fumble with the lock, and throw the front door open, almost hitting myself in the face.

“Oh, shit. What happened?” Miller looks over my shoulder like he expects someone to be behind me. Maybe the person responsible for my bloody lip.

“I fell.” I lean against the wall.

Miller frowns. “Are you drunk?”

“You woke me up.”

“You smell like booze.”

“I’m fine.”

Miller’s phone starts ringing. He glances at it, then at me. “Get your shit. We need to be at the airport. You should be ready to go.”

I try to walk, but it’s not working. I smash into the wall.

“Seriously, Balls, what’s the deal? Sweets, can I call you back? What? She’s what? I don’t understand; she should be here, not there—”

I know they’re talking about Lily. I turn and walk down the hall, knocking a picture to the floor.

“I’ll call you back in a few… I love you, too, Sunny Sunshine.”

I’m unnecessarily jealous of their relationship. I know exactly how
not
easy it is to be a professional hockey player dedicated to one person. I’ve watched Miller struggle with Sunny. I’ve seen Lance almost destroy his career. I’ve witnessed the impact on my own mother and sister. But right now, all I want is someone to fight for, and I’ve messed that up, too.

I make it to my bedroom and grab my duffle bag. My hockey shit should be in the garage. I hope. All I need are clothes. Miller isn’t behind me like I figured he’d be. He shows up a few seconds later with a glass of water and pills.

He holds out the glass and his palm. “Drink this, and take these.”

I do what he tells me. Then I look around my room. Evidence of the past week is everywhere. Three empty boxes of condoms litter my nightstand. A half-empty bottle of lube has fallen over and dripped on the carpet. My bed is unmade. My room smells distinctly of sex and Lily. I can still see the look on her face when I told her I’d fuck her over. That devastation is exactly what I don’t want to cause someone.

Miller snaps his fingers. “Dude, we gotta go.”

“Right. Yeah.” I nod, but I’m still not moving.

Miller shakes his head and shoves three pairs of pants, three shirts, a suit, and a couple of ties into my bag. Then he goes to my dresser and tosses in some extra boxers and socks. A pair of Lily’s underwear must have accidentally ended up in there, because he tosses them on the bed. “Get changed, Balls. You smell like a bar. They won’t let you on the plane if they know you’re drunk.” He passes me a pair of boxers, then goes to my closet and picks up a pair of jeans off the floor.

I have to sit down to make it happen, but I manage to get changed into fresh clothes. I pick up Lily’s underwear from the comforter and shove them in my pocket. I don’t know why. But I need them.

Miller forces me into the bathroom and makes me brush my teeth. Once I have my wallet, he ushers me back to the foyer. I have to brace myself on the wall to get my feet in my shoes.

He shoves my jacket at me, shaking his head, and pushes me out the door. I climb into Lance’s ridiculous Hummer and sprawl out across the backseat. I check my pockets for my phone, but it’s not there. “Wait. I don’t have my phone. I gotta go back in.”

“I’ve got it.” Miller tosses it at me. I try to bring up the home screen, but it stays blank.

“Took you two long enough. What was the hold up? You catch Balls doing what he does best?” Lance puts the vehicle in gear.