Dammit.
I’m too worked up and in my head to even get off.
Fuck my life.
I stare at the ceiling for a long time, my breathing fast and shallow. This is a very big problem.
I’m not like this.
I love-em-and-leave-em. I don’t do feelings, I don’t do relationships.
And I sure as hell don’t do careful and controlled.
But I don’t want to fuck this thing up.
I actually like Tori.
Shit.
That thought lands hard in my solar plexus.
I don’t just want her — Ilikeher. Her sassy mouth, those sharp retorts, teasing her and pushing all her buttons.
But also the way she looks at me. Like I’m more than a one-night thing.
Levering up on my elbow, I grab my phone and google ‘flower shop near me.’ Salt & Stem pops up on the screen and I click the link. Scroll through the pages and pages of floral arrangements. Finally, I land on the one that screams Tori. All white. Ranunculus, calla lilies, orchids. I pick the biggest size and throw in a vase for good measure. Knowing her, she probably has one, but I’m not taking any chances.
I hit the order button and immediately land on the message section.
More staring at the wall, wondering what to write. I type and retype six different messages before settling on:
Messy looks good on you, Sunshine.
-B
I schedule the delivery for first thing in the morning, then add a second order of pink roses for the afternoon. Throw an evening delivery of white peonies in for extra fun and type in my credit card info.
Overkill? Yeah. That’s the point.
Bennett Steele doesn’t do subtle.
Yanking my shirt off, I finally close my eyes and drift off to sleep, knowing Tori will be running through my dreams the rest of the night.
The next morning, practice is rough. I feel like I have a massive hangover and I didn’t drink a drop.
“Steele — you gonna skate today or are we running on vibes?” Keller barks across the ice.
“On it, Coach.” I channel all my nervous energy into the puck, try to forget about her.
“You up too late last night with the ladies, Puck Bunny?” Callum catches the puck with his glove, kicks it back to me.
“Not with the Ice Queen babysitting him.” Weston slides up next to me and jabs me in the shoulder. “How’s Elsa doing, by the way?”
“Don’t fucking call her that, Wes.”
Callum raises a brow and Weston spins around me, a look of shock on his face.
“And she’s not fucking babysitting me, dickhead.” I grip my stick tighter and Weston notices.
