When the game wraps up, the guys win 5-1. A clean sweep. The energy in the arena is electric, everyone is high-fiving and talking about Banksy’s hat trick. I’m having a blast with the other women. I swallow the last of my beer and stack the empty plastic cups.
“They’ll be out celebrating tonight,” Birdie says, pulling out her phone. “I’m going to have to text my mom and let her know we’re going to be back late.”
“Barrett and I will probably head home. This pregnancy has me wiped out.”
Micky leans over and faces me. “I have a question.” She’s direct, but her kind eyes and smile keep her from being too intimidating.
“Shoot.”
“Okay. So you say nothing is going on between the two of you—you’re wrong, by the way, but whatever—if you had your druthers, would you want there to be something between you and Banksy? Girl code—you gotta be honest and nothing leaves the circle.”
I think for a moment. The sex is good. Who am I kidding? The sex is out of this world. It’s hot, frenzied, intense, dirty, and unhinged. I fucking love it. However, it’s Camden Teller. My last relationship ended with my fiancé cheating on me with my best friend. Even though in some ways it was a relief and helped me dodge a bullet, it still hurt and left me with fears about future relationships.
If I couldn’t see it happening with my own best friend, it would be even easier for it to get past me if it was with a bunny or one-night stand. I’ve seen the way the women are around him. He’s obviously plenty experienced, but I would worry, and that’s not fair to either of us. When I’m ready for a relationship, I want to be stable and ready for something like that.
“No.”
“Why not? You know, I know the tabloids give him a bad rep, and I said what I said, but the guys really vouch for him. He’s a good captain. He’s dependable and loyal.”
I smile, it pleases me to know other people understand how great he is.
“I like Cam, he’s a great guy, but I’m done with relationships for the time being, with anyone. I’m not sure I could be mature enough to handle his . . . following. Besides, I’m in my man-hater era. But Cam is an amazing friend who watches out for me, and I appreciate that.”
The players skate toward the tunnel and step off the ice. I reach for my purse on the floor but startle at the loud bang next to me.
“What the hell was—” I look up to see Cam, he hooks his arms over the side of the barrier with it digging into his armpits. Fans around us clamor to get a puck, stick, or autograph, anything. The security below is talking him down, but he’s ignoring them completely. A few of the other players stand gawking, one of them being Barrett Conway. He’s ignoring everything around him.
“Hey, birthday girl.”
“Hi?” I laugh. How did he know it was my birthday? My eyes glance to the security below, instructing him to get down. His coach yells his name, but he doesn’t respond. “I think your coach wants you.”
“Come here,” he says it so casually. I scoot closer, and he high-fives a starstruck young boy sitting behind me.
“Teller! Let’s go!” one of the coaches bellows from the other side of the plexiglass.
“Cam, what are you doing?”
“Kissing you.”
He grabs the back of my neck and pulls me in, doing exactly that. His mouth presses to mine, and he slides his tongue over my lower lip. It takes my breath away. After that, he drops from the board onto the padded floor below. The coach smacks him with a clipboard.
“Jesus, Teller. The fuck is wrong with you? Lockers, now!”
He looks up at me and winks again, and I press my fingers to my lips. My cheeks flare red and nervous laughter bursts out of me. What the hell was that about?
“I fucking called it!” Micky shouts. She turns around in her seat. “Did I not fucking call it? You heard me, right?” she asks the person behind her—who happens to be the young boy Cam high-fived seconds ago.
“Sorry,” the rest of us say in unison to the parents, apologizing for her use of the word fuck.
Camden didn’t do it to be romantic, he did it for the thrill of getting in trouble and maintaining his heartthrob reputation.
My friends laugh, and I shake my head, they don’t know him like I do.
CAMDEN
Coach takes a minute to yell at me for my little “publicity stunt” as he calls it. Do I fucking care? Not even a little. Let the org fine me and move on. Jordan was in the stands wearing my jersey and I got a hat trick. I kissed her because I wanted to, and I don’t regret it.
The boys are stripping their gear when I walk in from my ass chewing from Coach, they all start clapping. I take a bow.
“What the hell was that all about?” Barrett asks, laughing.
Shep holds his arms out. “You stop going out with us after games, and then that happens? Who is she?”
“That’s Jordan,” I answer.
“Yeah, but are you guys dating? Is she a bunny or—” Burmeister adds.
“Easy . . .” Barrett warns, his wife was a former bunny, and he’s not a fan of the term.
Shaking my head, I look up while unlacing my skates. “Nah, she’s not like that. She’s the opposite actually. We’re friends.”
“Bullshit,” says Lonan.
I chuckle. “I mean, we’ve messed around, but—”
Jonesy cuts in. “The slut comes home to roost!”
Are they even listening to me? I said we’re only friends.
“Was that some fucked-up way to pick up more pussy? You know they caught you on the jumbotron, right?”
Good. Now everyone will know she’s mine. The thought pops into my head before I can stop it. It’s a new development in my feelings and likely a dangerous one I need to get control of.
“It’s not like that, really. She’s going through some shit and we’re hanging out.”
“Holy fuck, I never thought I’d see the day. Figured the only way you’d ever get hung up on a girl was if you were doing some kinky rope shit.” Lonan laughs.
“Who said we haven’t?” I grin at him, tugging off my socks that smell like something died. They think I’m dating her, which is ridiculous. Sure, I’d rather fuck her than take home a bunny, but it’s not like we’re in a relationship.
“Where did you meet?” Rhys asks.
“Remember that wedding I was the best man in?”
“Ohhh, shit, Banksy bagged himself a bridesmaid!” Shep shouts.
I shake my head and smirk. “She’s the bride.”
