I grit my teeth. "We ran into each other recently and hooked back up. She's cool and--"
"She's got a magic pussy?" he guesses crudely. I know he's only joking and he's never seen this side of me, but still...I can't have that.
"I like her," I tell him, and that's the truth. I've liked her from the moment I met her and nothing has changed about that. "So we're going to see each other and I'll figure it out from there."
"Well, good luck, brother," he says as he grabs his shave kit and turns to the bathroom.
"Where did you go tonight?" I ask his retreating back.
"Some titty club," he mutters.
"Who all went?" I ask, only slightly mourning the loss of my bachelor ways and hanging with my teammates. It's not that I can't go to a titty bar, because I so can and not be unfaithful, but well...I don't want to go.
This is fucking weird.
Van stops at the threshold to the bathroom. "I went by myself."
"Why?" I ask, because several of my teammates would have been all over that.
"Haven't you figured it out by now?" Van tells me, and he's not teasing in the slightest. "I'm not a people person. I don't want to sit around with the boys and talk about pussy and tits. I hang with you because you're tolerable--"
"Gee, thanks," I mutter.
"I like my time alone," he says, ignoring me. "I don't make a good friend."
And fuck...that kind of makes me sad for the dude. I mean, I knew he was a bit of a loner because he doesn't come out a lot, but when he and I are one on one, we get along pretty damn good.
"You've been a decent friend so far," I tell him, hoping to make him feel better or some shit.
Van shakes his head and his eyes are hard. "Like I said...you're tolerable. But you're my teammate and my roommate, and that's it."
My eyes narrow at his back as he retreats into the bathroom, as this is a side of Van I've not seen and I actually suspect he might be a little drunk. He's a total beast on the ice and can get a little vicious with the opposing team, but that's the nature of a lot of hockey players. He can be a cranky bastard, but we all have our days, right? We've not been bosom buddies or anything, but I've been around him enough to know this is strange behavior.
This isn't the Van I know, but he's definitely putting me at arm's length.
I make a mental note to myself to talk to Max about it and get his take.
Looking back to my phone, I pull up my app and send my first ever text to Stephy.
Sweet dreams.
Her reply isn't immediate but it's before I can even get surfing good on Facebook. I flip over when I hear the chime and groan.
Leave me alone. I can't text and use my vibrator at the same time.
I turn on my side, my back to Van's bed so he can't see the tent I'd be making on my back, and send her a return text. You're so bad. Going to redden your ass for that.
She sends me a smiley face in return and I let that be what takes me into sleep as I set my phone on the mattress beside me and close my eyes.
Chapter 6
Stephanie
I sit on my couch, legs curled up under me, and stare out my apartment window. I don't even know what to do today. Luc said he was flying back last night and he wanted to do something today. We haven't talked again since his call after the Breakers game, but we have texted here and there. Last text I got was last night after I'd gone to sleep.
All it said was, Boarding plane. See you soon.
I know I should get up and get ready, because that "soon" could be anytime, I guess. But I'm groggy because I can't drink coffee and it takes me longer to get going nowadays without my beloved caffeine. I also feel a little off. Not sick, but maybe more tired? I'm assuming this could be from the pregnancy, or perhaps it's the fact I tossed and turned all night, having funky dreams about pregnancy. In one I remember I gave birth to a baby hippo and I was so proud of her, but my parents didn't want anything to do with her. Not any type of surprise there, really.
A yawn overtakes me and I sit up on the couch, stretching my arms up high. I drop them and bring a hand to my belly, which is still completely flat at six weeks. I've been doing a lot of reading, obviously, and the baby is about the size of a peanut right now. I resist the urge to call him or her "peanut" as I lightly stroke my abdomen, wondering what gender it is.
And then an immediate wave of sadness hits me all at once and I have to rub my eyes with my knuckles so I don't start crying. This has been happening on and off, where I'll be giddy with excitement about the pregnancy, and then I'll sink down into melancholy, telling myself I only want this baby because then I'll have someone who loves me, and well...that's just tragic.
The swinging moods, I've read, are also normal at this time because of fluctuating hormones. I haven't actually felt hornier or anything, but I will admit, I do crave Luc with an intensity that scares me. He's like an addictive drug, and not just because of his stellar moves between the sheets. I've been discovering that he's actually easy to hang out with. Granted, there's not an awful lot of talking, but when there is, it's light and easy.
No pressure for us to do anything other than have some fun while we muddle through this crazy change in our lives.
A knock at the door startles me and I know it's Luc, not because I don't have any family or friends who would come knocking, but because I have an internal buzzing that just occurred and my body knows it's him. The attraction we share is actually tangible, and I've never felt anything like this before.
I push up off the couch and pad to the door. I'm still wearing my pajamas--which consist of a flimsy camisole and boy-shorts panties--and my hair is wrapped up in a knot on top of my head. I haven't even brushed my teeth yet, and there's a day's worth of hair on my legs.
This is just great.
Just before I open the door, I scrub my hands over my face and take a deep breath. I'm both excited and ambivalent about him being here.
Fucking hormones.
Putting my eye to the peephole, I confirm it is indeed one hot hockey player holding a white paper bag. He's wearing a long-sleeve T-shirt, track pants, and a Cold Fury hat. I bet he'd even look
amazing wearing a leotard and leg warmers, bitterly thinking that soon I'm going to be fat and undesirable.
Even as those thoughts run through my head, I snort so hard at myself that I'm actually laughing when I open the door.
"There is nothing funny about you opening the door wearing that," he says as his eyes go slowly down my body and then back up again.
I smirk at him.
"What were you laughing about?" he asks without making a move to come in.
"You do not want to be privy to my thoughts," I tell him with a grimace. "I went through about forty emotions all in the last ten minutes, and while I'm laughing now, I'm pretty sure I'll be crying soon. These hormones are making me a lunatic."
Luc's eyes turn soft with sympathy as his head tilts to the side. He gives me an understanding smile and my eyes immediately fill with tears.
Oh God.
Oh God, no!
"You asshole," I say as I laugh, then sob once, then laugh again. I step back, rubbing my eyes, as he walks in. "Don't look at me like that."
"Jesus, you're a mess," he says softly, and then his arm hooks around my neck and he pulls me into him so he can press his lips against my forehead. "This will get better, though, right?"
I nod and mumble into his chest, amazed at how wonderful a comforting embrace can feel. "I think so."
Luc releases me and I pull back to look up at him with a sheepish grin on my face.
"What are you doing here? I'm a lunatic and I didn't shave my legs. Or brush my teeth," I say with sudden memory and clap my hand over my mouth.
Luc just chucks me under the chin and says, "You're cute."
Then he brushes by me and takes the three steps to my tiny kitchen. He holds up the bag and shakes it. "I got breakfast."
My stomach rumbles and now I suddenly feel jubilation so overwhelming I want to sing out loud like Julie Andrews on the top of an Austrian mountain. I just shake my internal head at myself and join him at my small table where he's set the bag.
I lean over, peer inside, and take in two breakfast sandwiches wrapped in white paper soaked with grease. I inhale just on a normal breath, and take in the scent of egg, cheese, and...sausage?
My stomach rolls over and nausea hits me so hard I can feel something starting to rise up my throat without any provocation. I slap my hand over my mouth and lurch back into the living room. My head spinning, I walk quickly down the tiny hall that leads to the master bedroom. The nausea gets worse and I start to run, vaguely hearing Luc say, "What the fuck?"