All I can think about is Chey. Chey’s laugh. Chey’s smile. The way she looked in that jewelry store when we were pretending, just for a moment, to be something we’re not.
“Not tonight,” I say, handing back her phone. “Thanks, though.”
The confusion on her face would be comical if I weren’t so aware of my teammates’ eyes on me. This isn’t how this usually goes. Dylan Williamston doesn’t turn down beautiful women.
Except, apparently, now he does.
The blonde walks away, whispering something to her brunette friend who glances back at me with obvious confusion. I return to signing autographs, ignoring the speculative looks from my teammates.
When the event finally ends and we’re gathering our things to leave, Blaze approaches. “Since when do you say no to that?” he asks, nodding toward the door where the blonde and her friend have just exited.
I shrug. “Not in the mood, I guess.”
“Not in the mood?” Blaze repeats, incredulous. “You? The guy who once left a charity gala with twins?”
“That was different,” I mutter, suddenly embarrassed by my own reputation.
“Different how?”
I don’t answer immediately, focusing on packing up my bag, avoiding his eyes. But Blaze just waits, patient in a way he rarely is.
“This is about Cheyenne, isn’t it?”
I sigh. “I can’t stop thinking about her. I’ve been thinking about her for a while actually, but something about seeing that article, seeing that photo of us together ...” I trail off, not sure how to explain the clarity that hit me when I saw us through someone else’s eyes.
Blaze studies me for a moment, then nods slowly. “You’ve got it bad, man.”
“Tell me about it.” I zip up my bag with more force than necessary. “It doesn’t matter anyway. She’s never going to take me seriously.”
“Because of your sparkling personality?” Blaze jokes.
“Because of my stupid Hockey Playboy reputation. The fact that everyone expects me to be hooking up with models, not...” I trail off.
“Not falling for your little sister’s best friend,” Blaze finishes for me.
“Yeah.” The word comes out more like a sigh. “She just got out of a relationship with a guy who treated her terribly. She’snot looking to jump into something with someone who has an even worse reputation.”
“Have you talked to her about it?”
I shake my head. “She’s barely speaking to me since that article came out. I think she’s embarrassed to be associated with me.”
“Or maybe she’s protecting herself,” Blaze suggests. “If she has feelings for you too—”
“She doesn’t,” I interrupt.
“But if she did,” he persists, “wouldn’t it make sense for her to keep her distance? Especially if she thinks you’re just playing another one of your games?”
His words hit me hard.
Is that what Chey thinks? That the jewelry store was just another game to me? That she’s just another conquest waiting to happen?
The thought makes me sick.
I’ve spent years cultivating my playboy image, wearing it like armor, keeping everyone at a safe distance since Jessica shattered my teenage heart. But Chey deserves better than my carefully constructed facade. She deserves the real me—whoever that is. I’m not even sure I know anymore.
“I need to show her it’s real,” I say, the words coming out before I’ve fully processed them. “That I’m serious about her. That this isn’t just—”
“Another hookup?” Blazesupplies.
