“I don’t know but I feel like I should say it.”
He sighs again and runs a hand through that thick ash blond hair that I know feels like silky fur. When he doesn’t speak I decide to go. But he loops his fingers around my wrist. He stares right into my eyes. “Were you…? Was that your first time?”
Fuck. How does he know that?
Like I said earlier, I have no poker face so as soon as the words leave his mouth he sees the answer on my face. The shock. The embarrassment. It all screamsyes. Now his handsome face is filled with horror and tinged with… empathy. He feels bad and now I’m humiliated.
“Please just forget it ever happened. I will too.”
I yank my wrist free, blow past the security guard, and take the stairs two at a time. I make it to the main concourse level and beeline for the first women’s bathroom I see.
I lock myself in a stall and let the hot tears poking my eyes fall. I made such a huge mistake sleeping with Crew. And now I get to add that to the pile of stuff haunting me right now. Great.
Chapter9
Crew
“We won!” Duke Hendrix reminds me as he gives my shoulder a shove with his as we make our way back to the locker room.
“I know. It’s great!”
“Then maybe tell your face,” Duke replies with a cheeky grin. “Because it looks like someone just took back your Stanley Cup ring.”
“Sorry.” I decide to lie. “My wrist is tweaking a little bit. And it was just pre-season. I don’t wanna overreact.”
I had a small fracture during the playoffs last year which, thankfully, is all healed up, but blaming my growly face on it is easier than explaining to my teammate that I accidentally took the virginity of my best friend’s cousin. And that it’s got me all vexed that she doesn’t think it’s a big deal and that she ran from me like I was contagious or something. And basically said it was something she would like to forget.
“You should go see the doc about that before it gets worse,” Duke advises, looking serious now. “We need you full throttle for the season.”
I nod and walk over to my locker area, then start peeling out of my gear. Because it's pre-season there isn't much media coverage and the reporters who are here are talking to guys in the tunnel, not the locker room. I opted out of interviews. Yeah, they usually want to hear from the team leaders, which I've been even while not officially the co-captain yet. But Nash can handle that. He loves it and I never have. This 'injury' is also a good excuse for that because I know Coach Braddock will give me shit for not fielding media if I don't have an excuse.
I don’t reach for my towel like the other guys. I tug on my track pants and tank from before the game, shove my feet into my blue rubber slides, an arena must, and make my way into the hall. I go straight to the VIP lounge. It's still filled with friends and family and smells like sugar from the candy station and leather from the fancy furniture. I immediately spot Tenley by the long mahogany bar. She's talking with the redhead from earlier. A cousin, but I don't know which one. She's got a dimple in her chin and the same willowy build as Tenley.
“Hey,” I say as I stand about a foot away. I haven’t showered yet and she doesn’t need to smell that. “I was wondering if you’d…”
I can’t ask if she’s seen Olivia. It will set off alarm bells. Nobody thinks I even really know her. Tenley and the redhead are staring at me blankly, waiting for my mouth to keep saying words. “Uhh… I was…”
I did not think this through.
“You were wondering if I would… what?” Tenley asks as she lifts a glass of wine to her lips and the redhead reaches for the other one on the bar.
“If you would intro… introduce me,” I croak out like a very petrified teenager at his first high school dance. Not at all the vibe I want to give off, ever, let alone with Olivia’s relatives. “I haven’t… met everyone in Tate’s family yet.”
My eyes move from Tenley to the redhead and back to Tenley who is definitely taking this the wrong way judging by the smile on her face. "Crew Westwood, this is Shelby Garrison. She's my Uncle Cole and Aunt Leah's kid."
“Hi.” I give her a wave and then change my mind and extend my hand like a gentleman because I’m not a complete asshole. At least not always. Her grip is firm and her smile is friendly. She’s a very pretty woman but all I can think about is Olivia. “Hey. Tate’s my best friend.”
Am I suddenly a twelve-year-old? Is this aFreaky Fridayor a time-travel situation? Why am I acting like a prepubescent boy with zero game? Because you aren't trying to pick up this woman, butt head, I scold myself.
“Hi.”
And then it hits me. I try not to look horrified as I ask, “Is your brother Grady Garrison?”
“Yep!” She smiles proudly.
Oh fuck. Well, this just got even more awkward. I need to get the hell out of here. "Hell of a goalie. Anyway, nice meeting you. Have you seen Mallory? Tate was looking for her."
Another lie. One that I could get caught in. Why am I like this?
