27
Brooke
Watching Drew Anderson on the ice is always mesmerizing. Watching him not even an hour from the last time he was inside of you is a totally different experience. Not to mention the fact that I now know how hard he's working to make this all look effortless. It's amazing to think he's performing twice every time he laces up—amazing, and yet, still so sad. But hopefully not something that will go on much longer.
I knew he'd like the playlist. I didn't realize it'd mean as much to him as it seemed to, but I know music is his love language. What I didn't predict was how aware he'd be of whyImade it. How lyrics seem to explain the things I think or feel in ways I would never be able to say aloud.
I am trying though. And I do want to let Drew in. I just didn't realize when I set out to settle down with someone seriously, how hard it would be to open up. It should be obvious—being in a relationship means giving someone your heart and trusting them not to completely destroy it. But I'm realizing that's the reason committing never seemed to appeal to me. Going all in is scary as hell. I get shit on every day by people who are supposed to love me—talk about a love language. Why would I willingly allow someone else to do the same?
"Alright, spill."
I practically throw the camera in my hands into the boards thanks to the jump scare Alex causes from sneaking up behind me. "Holy ninja! Warn a girl."
She shrugs standing in front of our seats, glancing over my shoulder at the boys as they skate to the bench for the final ice cut before puck drop. "Tell me whatever it is you're not telling me."
I stare straight ahead, hoping she'll suddenly get amnesia or lose this sixth sense she seems to have.Damn her and her parental instincts.
"You slept with him, didn't you?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
She inhales slowly, her eyes trailing Levi behind the bench. "Mhmm. Where was it this time? A kitchen, a laundry room… maybe a nice foyer."
"The shooting bay."
"The shooting bay?" she hisses back at me, turning her body so it faces mine.
I stay where I am, but take a deep, steadying breath, knowing the rest of this conversation's inevitable. Alex is my best friend. We don't keep secrets. Or at least not well.
"And his place," I add quickly.
"What?"
"And mine."
"B!"
"And the Flames' sauna like forty-five minutes ago."
At this point my words are just spewing out as quickly as possible to get the whole thing over with. I watch her mouth fall open from the corner of my eye before twisting to face her, waiting for any kind of verbal response. She holds that position, pausing briefly with her eyes narrowed and her lips still parted, until she finally leans in slightly.
"Was it on?" she whispers, her brows fully creased.
I roll my eyes as I face the ice again, escaping momentarily into the satisfaction that is the sleek lines that trail behind the Zamboni. "No, it wasn't on," I answer after it curves around the corner. Suddenly my head snaps back to her, a more important detail on her end yet to be mentioned. "But what gave it away?"
Now it's Al who rollshereyes as she brings her attention back to our team's bench. "Please, B. I've known you for how long? And all but the last six months have involved seeing you quite frequently in your post-coital glow."
"Dammit," I mumble. "I do glow, don't I?"
Alex chuckles under her breath, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yeah," she says confidently. My whole face scrunches up as I curse myself for not preparing better for this conversation when she speaks again. "But you also smell like man."
I instantly raise my shoulder, inhaling deeply as I stuff my nose into the cotton of my gray Flames t-shirt. The all too familiar scent of my favorite player hits me, and I instantly ache between my thighs… and surprisingly, my chest. Drew's cologne takes me back to where we were just before this, his body pressed flush to mine, his warm breath lingering past my ear as he tried to punish me with his strong hands and flawless cock—his movements anything but cruel. I shiver at the memory of him pleading for me not to leave him, and my gaze coincidentally—ornot—lands on him.
"Just be careful, B," Alex says, as I watch Drew talk to her husband, his helmet in his hands revealing his slick hair and boyish grin. For a second I wonder if he's smiling because of me until Alex brings me back to earth. "You're a tough one to crack, but once you do, you're total mush on the inside."
I look at her sideways, defensive but also reluctant to fully look away. "Am not."
She scoffs. "Mhmm. Tell that to my teenage son who has you eating out of his hand."
