I’m not proud of what happened at Slapshots tonight.
Not the walking-out-of-the-bar part—while I didn’t like leaving Rosie, especially when we were having a good conversation, that part was justified.
It was something else.
It was when we were sitting with the rest of the group and she leaned over the table to get a look at my faded scar, and like some idiot, I let her. Hell, I even met her inch for inch.
She was so close and smelled so fucking good, like strawberries, and she was staring me right in the eyes, and then it happened…the thing I’m not proud of.
I got a boner.
I got a fucking boner. I’m in my mid-twenties, dammit! I should be able to control my dick a whole lot better than that, but I didn’t. I didn’t control my dick and I popped a fucking boner from a staring contest, then ran away like a scared child.
Only she followed.
She followed me, and I hated it…but I loved it too.
It’s not usual for me to get worked up like that, especially not in public, but her sitting there looking at me like she was seconds away from reaching her tongue out and running it along my jaw… Fuck me. It did something to me, something I really liked…something I wouldn’t mind a repeat of.
But I have a feeling I completely blew it tonight, all thanks to fucking Carl.
I glare over at the fluffy white-brown cat who is snoozing away in her tower like she didn’t just ruin my entire night. When I initially got a notification on my phone, I laughed when I saw her prancing about the apartment. Sure, she was a little shit for being up on the countertops when she knows I hate it, but it’s her place too. Then she had to go and do the one damn thing that drives me nuts and is the whole reason I installed the cameras to begin with: she locked herself in the pantry.
For being smart enough to pull the door open—I really need to get my super to fix that—she sure is dumb when it comes to not locking herself inside. This is the fourth time she’s done it. Last time, I was at an away game and had to get my neighbor, Miss Drake, to let her out. I, of course, then saw Miss Drake take her bathrobe off and sit stark naked on my couch. Since I just got those images out of my brain, I really didn’t want a repeat of that tonight, so I grabbed an Uber and booked it home to let Carl out.
So now I’m sitting at my computer with a controller in my hand, trying to work out my frustration because I got cockblocked by my cat.
“Holy fuck, my life is sad,” I say to myself.
Carl stirs a bit at my words, and her eyes peek open just enough for her to narrow them at me. So, I do the mature thing and flip her off. She gives me a look that says, Do it again and I will murder you in your sleep. I don’t doubt her threat for a second.
Ugh, how pathetic am I? Having a pissing contest with my cat? What a sad, sad life I’m leading. I’m even sadder than—
Ping!
My eyes go to the corner of the screen, and my lips part when I see the notification that’s bouncing there.
RoPlaying is online. Would you like to watch?
I’ve never in my life clicked a button faster.
I toss my controller to the side, not caring at all about saving whatever game I was just playing, then give all my attention to the screen as Rosie fills it.
I can tell almost instantly that something is different tonight. For one, she’s streaming way later than she typically does, but it’s more than that. She looks…off. Still gorgeous, but off. Maybe it’s how tightly her brows are drawn together as she lies on her belly on the floor with a coloring book spread out before her. She’s pressing so hard on the pages her knuckles are turning white. She’s quiet as usual, but it feels like more tonight. It’s like she’s…
“Oh, fuck.”
She’s upset.
She’s upset, and I have no doubt in my mind I’m to blame for it.
I left her sitting at the bar like a total asshat. I didn’t give her any sort of explanation. I bolted. I should have explained better, should have told her I wasn’t leaving because I didn’t want to talk to her anymore. I should have just told her I had to leave because my cat insists on cockblocking me and it had nothing to do with her.
But I didn’t say any of that because my social skills when it comes to women are about non-existent. I had the same girlfriend through high school. We broke up when she went off to college, and hockey consumed my life from there. I’ve had some one-night stands and short flings, like the girl who dumped me for liking to watch, but nothing serious, especially not with women like Rosie, who is so damn strong and fierce. She scares me as much as she turns me on, and I’m not exactly sure what that says about me, but I don’t have the time to analyze it now.
I’m too worried about how I’ve somehow managed to screw up Rosie’s night by being an asshole. Albeit unintentionally, but still.
My eyes stay trapped on the screen as she colors for an hour. It’s a full hour of nearly complete silence. The only sound she makes is the occasional sigh or groan. Nothing has been said, and yet, I still can’t seem to look away. She has that kind of effect on me.
When her eyes flit to the side of the screen of her laptop, I know she’s about to log off, and I swear I’ve never wanted her to stay more.
I wish I had more courage, wish I were brave enough to reach out and tell her I’m sorry for leaving tonight. But I can’t because that would be admitting so much, and I don’t want to open that can of worms.
“Sorry I was extra quiet tonight,” she says, looking directly into the camera. “It’s been a long day, but being here with you all has made it better.”
Her eyes go to the chat box that’s already filling with mostly disgusting comments from anonymous assholes.
WineDine69: I want to cum all over your titz bby gurl.
EatinP: SHOW US YOUR CANS!
BigDNRGY: I want to motorboat you, then fuck your ass.
I want to find every single one of these idiots and kick their ass.
But I can’t. So instead, I do what I do every night—I send her a message.
ShootsAndScores: It sounds like you had a rough day, and I’m sorry about that. I hope tomorrow is much better. You deserve it. Good night, Ro.
A genuine smile forms on her lips for the first time this evening, and I tell myself it’s because of my message.
“Good night,” she says, and once again, I pretend it’s just for me.
The screen goes black, and I lean back, staring at the void, wishing I’d never gotten myself into this situation and had never found her stream. Maybe then I wouldn’t be sitting here with a giant hole in my chest that makes me feel like shit.
I want to make this right with her. Tonight. Now.
But I can’t.
Ping!
My eyes find the notification in the corner of the screen, then I’m stumbling out of my chair and away from the computer because What in the actual fuck?
RoPlaying has sent you a message.
I read the notification once.
Twice.
Three fucking times.
She messaged me.
She fucking messaged me!
What. The. Fuck.
I drag my hands through my hair repeatedly, like I’m trying to scrub this from my brain because I am trying to scrub this from my brain. She can’t message me, and we can’t talk because she cannot know it’s me.
I mean, sure, I can be anyone. She doesn’t have to know it’s me. Hell, she streams anonymously, so it’s the same thing, right?
I shouldn’t. I really fucking shouldn’t. I— Fuck me. How did this mouse get into my hand? Why am I clicking Read? What the hell am I doing? I exit quickly before I can see what she wrote.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I jump out of my chair and toss the mouse anywhere but in my hand so I don’t do something stupid like actually read the damn thing.
But just like before, I don’t know what happens because suddenly I’m not standing anymore. I’m sitting, and the fucking traitorous mouse is back in my hand, and I’m clicking on my inbox.
“I’m possessed. I have to be.”
But do possessed people actually know they’re possessed? And do they say it out loud?
My heart batters inside my chest as the page loads, and I swear I’m about two seconds away from ripping the plug on the computer and hammering this room shut. My super won’t like it, but I don’t give a shit. I need to walk away, and apparently, I can’t be trusted to do it myself.
RoPlaying: Hi.
It’s a simple message. Totally normal. Nothing to freak out over.
RoPlaying: This is probably totally inappropriate, but I just wanted to let you know your messages always make me smile. And tonight, I REALLY needed it. So, thanks.
RoPlaying: You don’t have to respond, by the way. I know this is weird.
I do have to respond. She knows I’ve seen the messages. She knows I’m currently online. I’ll look like a complete asshole if I don’t reply.
Never mind the fact that I want to respond. So fucking badly.
“Keep it simple. Don’t fuck this up,” I mutter to myself as I put my fingers on the keyboard.
I take a deep breath, then type out a message.
ShootsAndScores: You’re welcome.
See? Simple. Easy. Totally not weird.
ShootsAndScores: I’m sorry people are creepy to you in the comments. I hope that’s not what upset you tonight.
“No, no, no. Fucking shit,” I curse.
Something is wrong with me. My limbs are operating of their own accord. Maybe it’s like Invasion of the Body Snatchers or something? I don’t know, but I do know this is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, and I have to stop. This cannot go any further.
“Please don’t respond,” I whisper, watching the bubbles appear, then disappear in the chat like they’re directly tied to my last breath and the next message she sends is going to be all the oxygen I need to survive.
RoPlaying: Unfortunately, I’m used to the creeps at this point. I just ignore them. Tonight, it was something…else.
RoPlaying: I was sort of…ghosted?
“Shit.” I drop my head into my hands, crushing my palms against my eyes, trying to delete this whole night from my memory.
I’m the fucking worst.
Is that what she thinks happened? That I ghosted her?
I so badly want to type back: “Hey, it’s Fitz. I didn’t ghost you. My cat is just a fucking idiot.”
But I can’t do that.
Another message pops up, and I lift my head to read it.
RoPlaying: Maybe ghosted isn’t the right way to put it.
RoPlaying: But let’s just say this night didn’t go the way I thought it would, and the guy I was talking to isn’t the guy I thought he was.
ShootsAndScores: I’m sorry. It’s never fun when that happens.
RoPlaying: Do you have experience being ghosted?
ShootsAndScores: Honestly, no.
ShootsAndScores: But that’s mostly because I don’t do much dating.
RoPlaying: Right. I’m sure you wouldn’t be here watching me if you did.
RoPlaying: Oh my god. That came out SO wrong and insulting.
ShootsAndScores: It’s fine. I understood what you meant.
ShootsAndScores: And you’re right. If I were in a relationship, I wouldn’t be here. I’m not that kind of guy.
RoPlaying: Well, I suppose that’s good to know. It is something I worry about doing this. I don’t ever want to be considered “the other woman.”
RoPlaying: You were saying you don’t date…
ShootsAndScores: I didn’t say I don’t date, just that I’m not dating currently. My job just keeps me busy. Lots of travel involved.
RoPlaying: Ah, that makes sense.
RoPlaying: So no secret girlfriend in every city?
“Ha. Hardly,” I murmur.
Some guys definitely do that shit and it makes me fucking rage, especially because the assholes who do it are usually wearing a wedding band, but that’s not my style at all. I’m a one-woman kind of man. Well, whenever I can find a woman, that is.
As sad as it is to admit, I don’t remember the last time I had someone to warm my bed. It’s been… Fuck. At least a year?
ShootsAndScores: Not even close.
RoPlaying: Good.
RoPlaying: Not that I have any say in the matter anyway.
RoPlaying: You know what? That was out of line. Ignore me. I’m having an off night.
ShootsAndScores: Because of the guy?
RoPlaying: Yes.
ShootsAndScores: Whoever he is, he’s an idiot.
RoPlaying: Right? Biggest dum-dum alive. I’m a catch!
Oh, she has no idea what a catch she really is.
I itch to tell her that. I want to type so many things, want to tell her she deserves so much in this world. But I can’t.
In fact, I need to stop this conversation immediately. It’s already gone too far.
My computer pings again with a new message.
RoPlaying: That sounded conceited. I swear I’m not usually this full of myself. In fact, in the past, I NEVER believed I was worth much of anything, but I’m trying not to be that person anymore.
“What the…”
ShootsAndScores: Who the hell told you that you weren’t good enough?
I read my message a few times, hoping like hell I don’t come off as some psycho who is entirely too invested in a stranger’s life, but I can’t help it. Who told her that shit? And did she kick them in the nuts? I sure as fuck hope so.
RoPlaying: Well, nobody SAID it, but it was heavily implied.
RoPlaying: Let’s just say striking out tonight isn’t the first time I’ve had a guy blow me off for someone else.
I really hate that she thinks I blew her off for someone else. I look over at the someone else again. Carl is awake now, watching me intently with those damn blue eyes of hers that made me unable to say no to her in the first place. Right now, they’re saying, You love me and you’re going to forgive me for tonight.
“Not a fucking chance,” I tell her. “You’re a little shit, and I’m withholding treats tonight.”
It’s an empty threat. I know it, and she does too. She’s a spoiled fucking princess. Hell, I left Rosie to take care of her ass. She’s got me wrapped around her finger.
I’m either a really good cat dad or a complete idiot. Based on what Rosie is saying to me, I’m leaning toward the latter.
ShootsAndScores: Maybe the guy from tonight has a really good reason for ghosting you.
RoPlaying: Are you defending him?
ShootsAndScores: No? Just playing devil’s advocate.
ShootsAndScores: I mean, I clearly don’t know the guy, so how could I defend him?
Those damn dots dance on the screen again, and a full minute goes by before she responds.
RoPlaying: That’s fair.
RoPlaying: And you’re right, maybe he does have a good reason. But why didn’t he give it to me when he had the chance?
ShootsAndScores: He could have been nervous? Or shy? Or just stupid?
“Monumentally stupid.” I shake my head at myself.
ShootsAndScores: You’re a beautiful woman, so maybe you intimidate him?
RoPlaying: LOL me intimidate someone? Not likely.
RoPlaying: But he is pretty shy…
ShootsAndScores: I know if I saw you out and about, I’d be completely tongue-tied.
RoPlaying: You’re going to make me blush.
ShootsAndScores: Sorry. I think.
RoPlaying: Don’t be. I like it.
RoPlaying: But it is getting late, and I should go. I have an early morning.
RoPlaying: Thank you for chatting with me and letting me vent. I think I needed it, and all my friends are still out at the bar.
ShootsAndScores: Sure. Glad I could help.
RoPlaying: Maybe we can do this again?
No. Never. We can never, ever do this again.
ShootsAndScores: Of course we can.
“God, you’re pathetic.”
Something tells me I should really stop having conversations with myself, but at this point, it’s pretty clear I’m insane, so why stop now?
RoPlaying: Good night. XO
ShootsAndScores: Good night, Ro.
The green icon next to her name goes red, indicating she’s away, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“I’m fucking screwed.”
Meow.
I glare at Carl. “That’s enough from you, cockblocker.”
Meow.
She doesn’t care that I took an already shitty situation and made it even shittier.
I need to fix this. I have to fix this. I’ll go to Scout’s Sweets tomorrow and I’ll make this better. I’ll set the record straight about why I left tonight. I’ll tell her everything and hope like hell she can forgive me.
“I’m going to make this better, Carl. I’ll fix it.”
Meow.
She sounds like she doesn’t believe me, and I’m not sure I do either.
