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It’s better than sex with anyone other than Nash. Nash blows this cake straight out of the water.
In my world, butterflies are on the endangered species list. Experienced with precisely one person, never to be found again.
“You know her, don’t you? Course you do. She’s a nice piece of ass.” He smirks, nodding at her. “Bet she’d be a great lay.”
“She’s one of our trainers,” I tell Eriksen. “Save your weak-ass trash talk for the team.”
“Oh, now you care about hockey code? After what you did with my girl? That’s fucking convenient.”
“Your chick hit on me first, man. If you were still together when it happened, take that shit up with her.” I skate back a few inches, repositioning for when the puck drops. Hopefully, that will happen this decade.
“Don’t act like you didn’t know who she was.”
“Don’t worry, Eriksen. I’m sure you’ll break that dry streak sometime before the end of the season.”
“Fuck you, Richards.” He spins ninety degrees to face me, his teeth bared in a snarl. I think he’s shooting for Doberman, but the effect is more yippy small dog. “We can settle this after if you want.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass. Might give Penelope a call and see if she’s busy, though.”
“Is that Doug I spotted over on the east side? A few rows from the front?” “What?”
“Thought I saw him, but I wasn’t sure since you didn’t mention he was coming.”
“Doug’s here?” “I don’t know,” I mutter. “Maybe.”
“Shit,” he says. “Sorry, man. That’s rough.”
“Yeah,” I confirm, voice low. “He’s here.” Vaughn glances over to where Doug is seated, then back to me. “Didn’t tell you he was coming, huh?”
“You know how it is. Sometimes he just appears.” Vaughn huffs, shaking his head. “Fucking fathers.”
“Fucking fathers indeed.” Coach Ward stalks over, studying me with a frown.
Mental note to smother Drew in his sleep later.
“Are you here with the Grizzlies?” the guy asks, bringing my focus back to him. I utter a nervous laugh. “Sort of. I’m doing my athletic training internship with the team.”
“Nice,” he says. “I’m Devin. Point guard for the basketball team.” “Violet. Uh, trainer for the Grizzlies. Like I said.” Smooth, Violet. I’m not especially interested in Devin, but even if I was, it would be impossible to flirt when there’s a furious giant shooting daggers at us with his eyes from afar. Which is Nash’s intention, I’m sure. Devin continues, “Why don’t you come join our table for a—”
The clean, masculine scent of his cologne invades my airspace, and my stomach does a pirouette. Nash levels a poisonous glare in Devin’s direction but says nothing. Devin shoots him a bored look. “Need something, Richards?” “Fuck off, Henderson.”
Nash slides an arm around my waist, sending a rush through my body that I want to call irritation but might be something else.
What a hypocrite. He had a girl all over him not even two seconds ago. Did I swoop in and act all territorial? No. I watched it from afar while ...
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“It’s not your place—” I st...
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“...
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“Unless you’d like to watch the rest of your season fro...
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“Come grab me later if you want.”
“Not going to happen,” Nash practically snarls.
We’re ancient history.” “Hardly.” Taking another step, he comes to stand directly above me, the warmth of his skin heating mine. “We were too many things to ever be ancient history.”
One thing I don’t miss about dating an athlete? Groupies. “He said he plays point guard. Beyond that, not a clue.” “Devin is a fucking creep.”
“There is some serious irony behind the idea of you protecting me. Not to mention, it’s none of your business.”
“It is absolutely my business.” His voice deepens, turning gruff. “If Devin roofies your drink—which he’s known for doing—I’m the one who will be taking care of you later be...
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“Oh,” I croak. I can’t believe I didn’t know this. I listed the men’s basketball team as my second internship choice.
“I know several girls who’ve woken up in Henderson’s bed with no idea what happened the night before. Enough that it isn’t a coincidence.”
“You know, for someone in the athletic training program, you are shockingly out of touch ...
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“Why, because I don’t stay up to date on all the varsity gossip? Did it ever occur to you that might be intentional? I’ve been trying to avoid all the stories about you sleeping with half of the girls in our school.”
God, we used to have incredible make-up sex. Clothes flying, frenzied kisses, and hands everywhere, tearing off clothes. If we were still together, this is the part where he’d drag me into the bathroom and fuck some sense into me. Not that I want that to happen. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t going to think about it later, alone in my bed.
“Between this and that murder trap of a transit station,” he says slowly, “I’m not sure how you survived, either.”
“Now you’re just being dramatic.” “Call it what you want.” Grabbing our drinks in one hand, he places his other hand on my lower back, steering me back over to our table. “And don’t expect it to change.”
“I could help you stretch.” “There’s no way you’d keep that G-rated.” Fair enough. In my defense, we’d both have more fun if my shoulders were holding up her legs. Naked. “But if you want to make yourself useful, you could grab me a black foam roller from over there.”
I would tell them to fuck off and get it themselves. But I’m trying to find a reason to stick around, so I walk over and grab one, passing it to her. I know from experience the black rollers are the firmest, verging on painful, but Violet likes a little pain. She likes it rough, too.
“Thanks.” Violet leans onto one elbow and pulls herself upright, readjusting to roll out her glutes. Is it weird to be jealous of a foam roller? Because I think I am.
“You’re cute when you’re all sweaty.” I shrug, enjoying the way her flush deepens in response to my words, rosy hue traveling all the way down to her chest.
“Pretty sure I’m a total mess right now, but whatever works for ya.” Oh, it’s working for me. I like clean Violet, sweaty Violet, dirty Violet. I’m especially into the last one down on her hands and knees, begging for me to give it to her harder with her hair wrapped around my fist. I am so fucked.
“How was your day?” I ask, holding the stairwell door for her. She sneaks a wary glance at me. “Pretty good, why?” “Can’t I ask?” “I guess,” she says. “How was your day?”
“Better now,” I tell Violet. Blush tints her cheeks, a small smile on her lips, but she doesn’t reply.
“Wait.” Her blonde eyebrows pull together, voice dropping to a hush. “Listen.”
sedan. As we draw closer, it becomes clear that it’s a puppy. His fur is a mixture of black and tan, with a black muzzle and oversized, pointy ears. He reminds me of a police dog. A German Shepherd or something like that. “Aww!” Violet gasps, making a beeline for the puppy. She squats down a few feet away from the puppy, gently patting her thigh.“Come here, buddy.”
“Come on, Nash. He’s a baby. He’s not going to bite.”
“Or he could be a she, I guess…”
