“Did you see today’s headline?” Maddison puts his phone right in front of my face.
The tabloid reads, “Evan Zanders, new week—new woman.” And below that is a giant photo of me leaving the arena last night with the chick I invited to my game.
“You gonna tell them that you had a cab waiting for her outside your building, and she never even made it inside? And that instead of taking her upstairs, you came over to our place so you could read your niece a bedtime story?”
“Let them believe what they want to believe.”
“You mean, let them believe what Rich wants them to believe,” Maddison retorts.
“I just have to play the game until the end of the season. Rich thinks that Chicago won’t re-sign me without the bad-guy-doesn’t-care-about-anyone-other-than-himself persona, so I gotta keep playing into it.”
“Yeah, sure. Because Chicago won’t re-sign you for being the best defenseman on the team and one of the best in the league, and they’re definitely not going to re-sign you for being a Norris Trophy finalist three of the last four seasons.” Maddison’s voice drips with sarcasm. “They’re for sure only going to re-sign you if you continue to pull an astronomical amount of pussy.”
“With how much money is on the line, it’s not worth the risk to find out otherwise.”
Without thinking or needing absolutely anything, my hand darts up, pushing the flight attendant’s call light. The ding radiates throughout the cabin as the blue light shines above my head.
“Zee, leave her the fuck alone.” Maddison shakes his head. “We land in Nashville in fifteen minutes, and you haven’t stopped pushing that button all flight.”
“I can’t. I promised myself I would make Stevie’s job a living hell this season. I can’t back out on a promise.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Zee, you are the most unapologetic and blunt person I know, but you’re lying to yourself if you think you keep pressing that damn call button because you want to make her life harder.”
“Why else would I be?”
Maddison’s head falls back on the headrest with a condescending laugh. “Since when did you become so dense, dude? You want to sleep with her. It’s fucking obvious.”
Well, shit. Yeah, I know that, but I was hoping I was a bit more subtle about it.
I realized it last week after I ran into Stevie outside the elevator in Maddison’s apartment building. Regardless of how tattered and worn her sweatpants were, I couldn’t stop imagining peeling them off her then burying my head between her legs.
Our flirty banter quickly straightened out my confusion. Her attitude and resistance to me are no longer teetering on the side of frustrating. It’s all intrigue and need at this point.
When Maddison’s private penthouse elevator got fixed, but I continued to use the public one in hopes that maybe the curly-haired flight attendant would run into me again, that’s when I knew my plan for this season had changed. It’s no longer about teaching her a lesson and reminding her of who she works for. It was about getting her to like me and hopefully getting her to want to sleep with me too.
But it would be more suspicious if I didn’t make her life on board a living hell, so I’ve continued to do just that all flight. Plus, I don’t shit where I eat, which I’ve been trying to remind myself. So, fucking my flight attendant isn’t really an option, regardless of how much I’ve been thinking about it.
“What now?” Stevie asks in frustration as she presses the light above my head to turn it off.
Yeah, Evan. What now?
I don’t need a single fucking thing, but it’s like that light has been a magnet, and I can’t keep myself from pressing it, knowing that every time I do, a sexy flight attendant with a bit of an attitude gets delivered to me.
“Um…” I stumble. “I want…” Think. Of. Something. You idiot. “I want—”
“He wants to sleep with you,” Maddison chimes in from the seat next to me.
Actually, I want to smack my best friend in the back of the head and tell him to shut the fuck up, but we aren’t in middle school, and that’d make things too obvious.
Not that subtlety is my specialty by any means. I’m not shy about the things I want, but this one thing, this one woman, I shouldn’t want and can’t have.
Turning my head towards Maddison, I hold eye contact, unblinking, telling him I’m going to fuck him up as soon as we are off this plane.
All he does is fall into a fit of laughter, finding himself exceptionally hilarious.
When I turn back to Stevie, there’s a world of amusement dancing in her blue-green eyes as she tries to hold back her smile. “How about something I can actually get you?”
“Am I going to see you in Nashville?”
What. The. Fuck. Is wrong with me? Am I going to see you in Nashville? I sound like a desperate fucking loser needing to pin down some plans as if I don’t have endless options at my fingertips.
Nashville is a prime city for me. My Instagram is already flooded with messages from my Tennessee roster, and I can guarantee that if I want, my dick will be buried deep inside one of them tonight.
“Great question,” Stevie retorts. “You seem to follow me everywhere I go, so I can only assume you’ll pop up at whatever bar I’m at tonight.”
Maddison’s head snaps to me, a confused look covering his face. I may have failed to mention that I’ve seen Stevie outside of the plane a couple of times. And regardless of that information, he still knows I want to fuck her. So, that’s great.
I’m currently entirely tongue-tied for the first time in my life, but thankfully the pilot saves me by coming over the PA system and calling for the flight attendants’ landing check. Stevie takes off to the back of the plane to take her seat.
“Zee…” Maddison’s tone is entirely serious. “Don’t do it.”
“Don’t do what?” There’s a sickeningly sly smile creeping across my lips. I’m not great at acting dumb, and right now is no exception as my best friend rolls his eyes at me.
“For her sake, do not sleep with her. She works for you, and she’s going to be on this plane for the entire season with us. That shit gets around the locker room like wildfire. You know that. For her sake, keep it in your pants, man.”
Taking a deep breath, I nod my head. “I don’t shit where I eat,” reminding both my best friend as well as myself.
