Beckett gets around
WE’RE ONLY A COUPLE OF WEEKS INTO THE SEMESTER, AND MY schoolwork is already piling up, so it’s hard to keep up the after-hours schedule. On Tuesday Ryder and I are able to book private ice time in Munsen at six o’clock while the rink is still open to the public.
And he’s insufferable from the moment we step onto the ice. I’d like to say he’s just being himself, but there seems to be a lot more trash talk than usual. Hockeywise, he’s giving me exactly what I asked for. Muscling me around, forcing me to step up my game. But the combination of his incessant taunting and having him in my personal space eventually causes me to snap.
“My God, you are so arrogant! Would you stop with the running commentary?”
His eyes gleam. “Get past me successfully and maybe I’ll stop.”
“Oh yeah, that’s solid coaching. I’m bigger than you, and I’ll stop being an ass about it if you suddenly grow a foot taller and gain a hundred pounds of muscle.”
That gets me a grin.
“Are you smiling?” I accuse.
And just like that, my annoyance melts away. Any time I manage to draw a normal human response out of Ryder instead of the grumpy looks he usually gives me, I like to nurture that delicate bud.
“No.” He glowers at me.
“You were totally smiling.”
“You’re just imagining things.”
He skates off to grab his water bottle, but not before I hear him chuckle.
“And you laughed!” I cry in delight, gliding after him. “I’m telling everyone.”
“Go ahead. No one will believe you.”
“I’ve got hidden cameras all over this rink.”
“Is that so?” He looks intrigued. “Does that mean the world’s going to see you begging the enemy for help?”
“I’m not begging you. We have an arrangement.”
Ryder uncaps his bottle. “And when are you going to hold up your end of it, exactly?”
“Already have, smart-ass. I’ve brought your name up almost every time he’s called. And I’m going home this weekend, so I’ll talk you up even more.”
“You better.”
“Maybe I’ll get a FaceTime in too before the weekend. Rave all about my good pal Ryder. Tell Dad how we listen to Dan Grebbs together…”
“Don’t ruin my reputation like that.”
“My dad likes Horizons,” I say enticingly.
Ryder hesitates.
I hoot. “Holy shit, you would actually pretend to like my meditation music to suck up to him! You’re a fraud. I will not endorse a fraud.”
He lets out another bark of laughter.
“Oh my God, two laughs in less than five minutes.”
Ryder lifts the bottle to his lips. My traitorous eyes admire his strong throat working as he takes a long drink of water.
I know I have no business asking my next question, but stupid curiosity gets the better of me. “So who’s this neighbor you’re seeing?”
He slowly lowers the bottle and wipes the side of his mouth. “Not seeing anyone.”
“Really?” I raise a brow. “So why’s that Carma chick leaving jewelry in your bedroom?”
A cloud of annoyance darkens his face. “I think she lied about that. My bedroom is basically a big empty space—I would’ve seen a necklace if it was actually there.” He offers a shrug. “We hooked up once and I told her I wasn’t interested in a repeat. I think she was looking for an excuse to see me.”
“Wow. Someone thinks highly of himself.”
“What?”
“You really believe a woman was so devastated about you ending it that she snuck her way into your room, planted a necklace somewhere, and then pretended to find it? What if you’d gone upstairs with her to look for it?”
“I bet she would have found a way. Pulled it out of her pocket when I wasn’t looking and then magically discovered it under the bed or something.”
“Or—hear me out—maybe it did fall off when she was over and it was under the bed.”
“Telling you, I would’ve noticed.”
“If you say so.” I roll my eyes. “I love how you think you’re that good of a lay that a woman would go to extreme lengths to win your penis back.”
“I am that good of a lay.”
He says it dead seriously.
My heartbeat kicks up a notch. There’s something very, very sexy about this man. No wonder Carma tried to come back.
I set down my water bottle and pretend my heart is thumping along at a normal clip and not careening at a breakneck pace.
“Let’s do another drill?” I skate back to center ice, the chill in the air cooling my suddenly warm cheeks.
“Beckett gets around.”
His abrupt remark stops me midglide.
I turn to face him. “What?”
“Just thought you should know.” Ryder absently drags his stick along the ice as he skates toward me. “He’s not exactly a one-woman kind of guy, and you don’t seem like a multiple-man kind of girl.”
I tip my chin in challenge. “Who says I’m not? Maybe I’m all about casual sex and multiple partners.”
“Are you?”
After a beat, I make an irritated noise and say, “No.”
He continues to appraise me, and I get lost in his eyes for a while. I can’t make sense of what they’re broadcasting. They’re almost entirely shuttered, but through that dark-blue veil I swear I glimpse something. Not quite heat, but—
He blinks and ducks his head before I can solve the mystery.
I position myself in one of the zone face-off circles. Ryder skates into position in front of me, puck in hand. He’s still watching me.
“All right, enough chatter. Drop the puck, bitch.”
He snorts. “Did you really just call me bitch?”
“Yes. I’m practicing my trash talk.” I stop. “Wait. I just realized I can’t use it during a game. I could never call another girl a bitch, even if I secretly think she is one. That’s so derogatory.”
“But you can call me that?”
“Yes, quite easily, actually. It’s alarming.”
A reluctant smile lurks on his lips.
I point at him with a gloved hand. “Do it. Unleash the smile. I know you want to.”
“If you don’t shut up, I’m never dropping this puck,” he taunts and then drops it anyway before I’m prepared.
“Hey!” I object.
My stick barely moves before he’s speeding away. I chase after him, trapping him behind the net like I’m supposed to. Soon we’re both breathing hard as I battle him for the puck in the cramped, narrow space. This is more strenuous than any of my workouts. I’m sweating and gasping for air by the time I manage to get out from behind the boards.
“Nice footwork there,” he tells me. “Good hip work.”
“Hip work.”
“Yeah, you did this cool twisting move when you pivoted.”
“Wow. A compliment.”
“Go again?”
I nod.
Later, on our next water break, he becomes more animated than usual as we discuss ways to distract the defenders and goaltender.
“See, now the defenders have a decision to make. When to flush you out, and how to do it. Your goal is to draw them to one side of the net, try to create an opening for a backdoor play. You want them so focused on flushing you out that when it’s time for them to divert their attention to one of your teammates, it’s too late—they’ve already scored.”
“I’m so much better out in the open,” I admit.
“Who isn’t? We all prefer having the room to rely on our speed and accuracy instead of muscles and tricks.”
I grudgingly compliment him. “You’re a good coach.”
He shrugs.
“I mean it. You’d be a real asset to those boys at Hockey Kings if you coached there next summer. And yes, I’ll be sure to keep telling my father that.”
“Thanks.” His voice is gruff.
We stay for another ten minutes before calling it quits. Neither of us want to overdo it now that our season openers are coming up. A comfortable silence falls between us as we trudge down the rubber walkway toward the locker rooms.
“I’m not interested in marrying your friend,” I find myself saying.
He gives me a sidelong glance. “Didn’t think you were.”
“You made a point to tell me he’s not Mr. Monogamy. Obviously that means you were super worried about it.”
“Wasn’t worried in the slightest.”
“Jealous, then?” I mock.
His eyes narrow. “I wasn’t jealous.”
“Well, either way. I wasn’t looking to date him. I was stressed and wanted some…naked stress-busting.”
Ryder looks over again, vaguely amused.
The problem with his constant silences is, they propel me to keep babbling when I know I shouldn’t.
“I miss having regular sex. I was in a relationship for almost two years, and I got used to having a regular partner, you know? It’s so nice to have someone when you’re stressed or need to scratch an itch. You don’t have to date around, flirt, figure out if there’s an attraction, worry about STIs. You can just call them up and be like, Babe, I need to fuck your brains out, and they’re happy to oblige.”
Ryder’s pensive gaze doesn’t leave my face.
I swallow. My throat is suddenly dry. “What?”
He shrugs. “Nothing.”
“You look like you want to say something,” I push.
Another shrug.
When he still doesn’t speak, I sigh. “Anyway. I’m starting to feel the pressure. Our first game is coming up, and I needed a way to release the stress.” I grin at him. “And he’s got an Australian accent.”
“Chicks do like it,” Ryder says dryly.
“But it was probably a good thing we got interrupted. I would’ve totally been using him. And, yeah, yeah, I’m sure he would’ve been happy to be used. But I kind of feel bad using someone for sex.” I poke him in the side. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“For what?”
“For the girl talk. It’s obvious you’re really into this stuff, you know, sharing feelings and talking about boyfriends and girlfriends. I’m giving you what you crave. You’re welcome.”
He presses his lips together, and I suspect he’s trying not to laugh.
We duck into our respective locker rooms, then meet outside in the parking lot fifteen minutes later, where we get into our respective vehicles. I like that he always waits for me to drive away before following suit. It’s oddly gentlemanly.
Later, I eat dinner in the dining hall with Mya before Diana comes over for game night. It’s a tradition we started when the three of us lived together in the freshman dorms. One night a week, we’d pick a game, usually Scrabble, and crack open some wine. Mya and Diana would then argue the entire time because they’re like cats and dogs. Sometimes I think it was good that Diana moved out. They probably would have killed each other if subjected to three more years of cohabitation.
“So…I fucked Percival,” Diana announces as she shakes the velvet sack of letter tiles.
Mya chokes midsip of wine. “Wait a minute. Your new man’s name is Percival?” Her head swings toward me. “Did you know this?”
“Unfortunately.”
Diana picks seven tiles at random before passing the little bag to Mya. “It really is unfortunate,” she says glumly. “But I’m into him, so I’m pretending in my head that he has a hot name.”
“Like Thunder,” Mya says. “Or Blaze.”
“I said a hot name, not a gladiator.”
I snicker as I arrange my tiles on my letter tray. The first word that pops out at me is COCK.
Wait. I also have a Y.
COCKY.
There. Proof I don’t have dicks on the brain.
Mya gets the game going by throwing down the word BEET.
“How was the sex?” she asks Diana. “I can’t even imagine what a Percival would be like in bed.”
“A bit intense,” confesses Diana. “He held my face a lot.”
“Held your face?” I echo, grinning.
“Yeah. Not aggressively or anything. He kept cupping my cheeks and looking deep in my eyes. So I kept flipping myself over and going doggy style to give all the eye contact a break, but he’d only flip me onto my back again to stare lovingly at me.”
I try not to laugh. “I guess that’s…romantic?”
“Sure, if it’s anniversary sex. But not when you’re having sex for the first time. That’s supposed to be fun and wild and passionate. Not super emotional.”
“I actually agree with you.” Mya appears shocked by her own admission. “How is that possible? I never agree with you.”
Diana laughs and tosses her platinum hair over her shoulder. “Something’s definitely wrong with the universe,” she agrees.
I know it’s all good-natured. They do like each other. I think. If they don’t, they’re doing an excellent job protecting me from their mutual hatred.
The universe must be off-kilter, because as I examine the board trying to figure out where I can squeeze in the word COCKY, my phone buzzes with an incoming call.
From Ryder.
My heart stutters. Why is he calling me?
“One sec,” I tell my friends, reaching for the phone. I swipe to answer, my tone wary. “Hello?”
I don’t get a hello back, or even a normal sentence.
His rough voice fills my ear with two inexplicable words.
“Use me.”
