Her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Calm down? You want me to calm down? How about you calm down and stop spreading bullshit behind my back?”
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”
“Let me refresh your memory. You told everyone in this locker room that I am a lesbian?”
I felt that right in my gut. It had seemed like a good idea at the time probably wouldn’t work as an excuse. Even though that was exactly why I’d said it. “They assumed you were.”
Her hands flew out, making her fantastic tits bounce. Just because she was mad at me, didn’t mean I could keep my eyes off her chest. “And did they assume I was a lesbian because you told them I was one?”
“Kind of?” I answered, not really remembering how it had all gone down. It had been a convenient way to get the guys to shut up and lay off. That was all that came to mind right then.
“But I’m sure after everyone saw that video of us kissing, they probably clued in. You need to chill out, Gigi,” I snapped, starting to get pissed. That kiss we’d shared had been goddamn fantastic. The way she’d leaned in and moaned down my throat as I—
“That kiss? Was a huge mistake, Moreau. There must’ve been some kind of toxic fumes from those stupid hair curlers or something that temporarily messed with my brain,” she spouted off and I swear her words hurt me as if she’d socked me right in the gut. “First of all, if I were a lesbian, do you think the way I’d want people to find out, would be to have you announce it to the world?”
“No,” I responded, feeling like a huge dick and wanting to explain my side of this to her. “It’s not—"
Gigi cut me off, apparently not in the mood to let me talk. “Secondly, you are the last person—and I do mean the actual last person on the face of this earth who would ever need to know what gender I went for.”
She stepped in close to me—so close I could smell her flowery scent. “Thirdly, Captain, I like cock. And I like it a lot.”
Gigi swiveled her perfect ass around and stomped out the door as the guys started to yell and give me shit.
Worst fucking Monday ever.
Gigi
What a complete jerk.
He’d given me the kiss of a lifetime. Poets wrote about kisses like that.
I had dreamed about kisses like that.
Even seeing a short clip of us kissing that someone posted on social media didn’t bother me. It was the best damn kiss in history.
The first time my dad had taken me to watch one of Beau’s games, I’d made up my mind he was the guy for me. He was tall, smart, handsome, and clearly the best hockey player I’d ever seen. What more could a girl want? There was no discernible way to count exactly how many times I’d fantasized about him kissing me.
And each one of those fantasies added up in perpetuity would not have come close to how mind-blowing the real thing actually was.
Beau’s lips had been warm and strong—insistent against mine. My body became putty in his hands as I melted into him.
And then this morning I found out that he’d gone around telling people I was gay? What was that even about?
It made everything that had happened between us one big lie. And not just the kiss. I also meant the friendship that I’d thought had been blooming between us.
Once again, Beau Moreau had singlehandedly crushed my dreams. It was becoming a real habit of his.
I’d seen him sitting on the bleachers for most of the last hour. It screwed with my mojo on the ice. I was self-conscious of him being there, watching me. Surely he didn’t think I still wanted to practice with him afterward?
No way was I letting him mess with my head again.
When the buzzer sounded, I had already decided to ignore his stupid, rude, handsome, idiotic self.
That was exactly what I did when he started calling my name. Before I could leave, he glided in front of me and stopped. “You can’t hear me shouting your name, Martin?”
“Oh, I hear you, Moreau. Loud and clear.” I tried to skate around him, but he grabbed my jersey.
“You’re going to give up on practicing with me because your feelings got hurt?”