I guess you have a point, but it’s not very romantic, she complains.
But to me, it’s better. Before, immediate attraction was the first step when I considered dating someone. But after everything blew up with Lana, I needed better criteria. I liked and respected Cleo’s honesty first, then we became friends, and now lovers.
I can remember the moment I first wanted to fuck you, if that helps. I turn onto my side so I can look at her.
Ooh, really? When? she demands.
When I walked in and saw you in that Keep on Trucking T-shirt. In that moment, Cleo looked both sexy and vulnerable, and it was like I was seeing the real woman for the first time.
That’s why you hoped it said Keep on Fucking? she giggles. Well, it was pretty tight.
No kidding. Her breasts were barely contained in that thing. I reach out and cup one in my hand.
I can’t even remember the exact moment when I was first attracted to you, she says.
According to the story you told Marjorie, it was at that first practice you watched, I recall.
Maybe. But it feels like there was a series of first times. Because I wasted so much time not liking you, she confesses. But seeing you play does excite me. Your vision on the ice is next-level.
I lift her hand and kiss the palm, then link my fingers through hers. It feels weird to talk hockey with someone I’ve just had sex with.
Cleo tries to pinch my side, but I twist away. Really? What about puck bunnies? Don’t they want to hear about all your goals? she asks.
Please, what kind of egomaniac would lie in bed and relive all his goals? I sputter.
O.D.? Murph? Bergy? Cleo offers up some players on my team who are on the egotistical side.
Yeah, maybe. But you score more goals than I do; we should be talking about your goals.
She smiles widely. Should I start with the first one?
Wait, you remember every one? I roll onto my back and do some quick math. She must have scored at least 300 goals in her life.
Only the important ones. But almost every goal is important.
I can tell without even looking that she’s smiling.
I sigh. Apparently, I’m the one trapped in bed with an egomaniac who’s going to relive all her goals.
Hey! You asked me to do it, she protests.
I kiss the top of her head. Yeah, you go ahead. I need to take a nap anyway.
She gasps in mock outrage and whacks me again, but I trap her hand against my chest as contentment floods me.
18
THE FAME GAME
CLEO
I HAVE TURNED INTO THE WORLD’S SAPPIEST GIRLFRIEND. MY CALENDAR IS NOW STARRED WITH ALL the times that I get to see Mats. Lunch together on Monday, yum. Tuesday is dinner at Marjorie’s, where she observes that I’m in an extremely good mood. ‘That’s because I’m finally getting some, and it’s sizzling,’ is what I want to tell her, but that’s definitely TMI. Plus, I was already supposed to be having sex with Mats. Wednesday, I go over to his place after dinner and we have sex. My review: Five stars, would come again. And again. Thursday, we’re both busy, but we manage to squeeze in a coffee date. Then the low point of the week is the weekend, since we both have away games, and I have to settle for video calls instead of the real thing. Yet I still find myself humming and smiling constantly. Becks calls me nauseatingly happy.
On the following Monday, I’m still flying high from the weekend games. We’re in first place in the division, and my hat trick on Saturday night definitely helped. I’m on my way to practice when a short Asian woman with glasses and long hair collars me by the arena doors.
Hey, Cleo. I’m Andy Robson. I’m the sports editor for the Messenger.
I break into a wide grin. Oh, I know exactly who you are. You’re the person who finally got the college newspaper to cover women’s hockey. And the Minks love you for that. Yes, C.J. Baker writes all the game stories, but it’s Andy who fought for the coverage.
