"Hello?" Burnsey sings.
I open my eyes and see he's too goddamn close to me considering we're both buck-ass naked. "Dude, personal fucking space." I dip my head backwards, allowing the stream of now piping hot water to wash away the suds. "Save it for Emma."
His eyes dart to mine as I smother a smirk. He splashes water on his face and uses both hands to wipe it away. "My bad, bro," he laughs. "Just trying to start the season off right."
My eyes slink slowly shut as I duck back under the water. I let it wash over me in an attempt to rid myself of everything I'd like to say—everything I'd like to do exceptthat—just everything in general.
But it doesn't work.
It never does.
Inhaling deeply, I give myself one more beat of honesty before I slowly start to nod, falling back into the persona I can fake better than the real thing. "Yeah, " I say as I let out my breath. "Party at your place."
Shifting back toward the wall, I reach for my body wash before I pause and look back at Burns. "No fucking reporters."
3
Brooke
Packing for my chaperoning trip to Grand Oaks, I give every article of clothing a little too much thought. Every top I pull from my closet, all the jeans I hold up, any piece of underwear I consider throwing in my bag—each decision more important than it should be.
Realistically, the odds of running into Drew are pretty slim. Sure, we'll be staying at the same hotel. And yes, I'll be watching him play the Gladiators. But the chances are small that we actually interact. I can't exactly picture the star of the Flames casually roaming the hotel lobby when he could be doing literally anything else. Besides, Cooper's old enough to handle himself around the team if they were to invite him out like they have before.
So, in reality, it's not so much seeing Drew that rattles me. It's how he would act toward me if we did run into each other. In my mind, he's the guy who read my soul with just a glance, begged to know me when I tried to keep him at a distance, ruined me like no one else has.
On the ice, he's a showman. Hell, that's what caught my attention in the first place. In uniform, he's all smooth moves, hard shots, and quality entertainment. Confident. Calculated. Charismatic. But he seemed so different when he was with me. He knew what he was doing, and hedamn sure wasn't shy, but it was as if the version I got of him was stripped down in more ways than one. He seemed deeper. Thoughtful. More complex.
The internet is riddled with pictures of Drew all over Golden City—all over the damn world for that matter. But I don't seehimin any of them. Not the guy I caught a glimpse of that was full of undiscovered layers. There are none with those steel-blue eyes that saw right through me. No strong yet graceful stance that held me in his arms. The pictures seem like just that—an image. Unless that's who he really is.
I guess it's hard to know which version of him is a show from our one interaction. But it doesn't matter anyway. Even flirting with that idea is counterproductive to what I'm trying to do, which is get my parentsoffmy back.
A dull hum sounds from my mattress, which means either my vibrator's gone rogue or my cell phone is ringing under my pile of clothes. Tossing a handful of sweaters, a leather jacket, and my favorite pair of jeans to the floor, I locate the source of the sound.
"Hello?" I answer, bringing it to my ear and turning down the country song playing through my laptop speakers.
"Hey, Brooke. It's Levi."
It takes me entirely too long to put a face to the name and process that my best friend's husband is the voice on the other end. "McHottie? Why are you—wait, is Al okay?" My brain gets whiplash, flipping in three directions from my mental ramble about Drew, Levi's call, and now my sudden concern for Alex.
Levi chuckles. "No, no, she's fine. She gave me your number. I actually need another favor."
Plopping onto my bed, I let out a deep breath. "You know, Al didn't really sound too thrilled about the—"
"It's not about the handcuffs," he says, beating me to it.
I scoff playfully, running my finger along the frayed knee of another pair of denim. "Mhmm, not yet. So, what's up?"
"Listen, I know you're into the whole social media thing."
"You mean that Ihavesocial media, Levi?"
He laughs before saying, "Okay, fair. But Bennett also says that you're actually really good at it."
"She told you about my detective work, didn't she? Well, put me in Coach! Who do you need me to stalk?"
Levi sighs, and it's as if I can hear him roll his eyes through the silence that follows. That or maybe he's considering how much investigating I did into him before he and my best friend started hooking up.
"Thanks for the offer, but I'm good," he says, his voice laced with amusement. "I was actually wondering if you’d take a few pictures and put some stuff together for the game this week while you're there. Our social media manager left at the end of last season, and we sort of shit the bed on replacing her fast enough." He exhales sharply in defeat. "She apparently had content scheduled to be posted through the off-season and a few images for the start of the season. But our new girl can't start until she finishes up a project at her current job, and the Cup champions can't really go into our first game without any advertising."
