If anything, I blame Ryan for this situation. If he had been there when Brin disappeared off with Robbie, I’d have had someone to make sure I didn’t do reckless things with reckless, hot hockey players.
“Anastasia,” he takes my face between his hands and turns my head so I’m only looking at him, not Sabrina, who is wiping away tears. “If a woman is telling me the only time she wants me on my knees is when my face is in between her legs, respectfully, I’m making a move. I’d have kissed you too.”
“Well, technically,” I mumble, shaking my face free, “if you want to get into the specifics, I kissed him.”
“You little slut,” Sabrina says in delight. “I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell us!” Her eyes flick to Ryan, nose scrunching again. “Well, me. You two are weird. I don’t know what you share, but I can’t believe you weren’t going to tell me!”
“It’s not happening again, Brin, so calm down.”
Ryan groans beside me and drags his hand down his face. “Stas, you know I love you, but you’ve got to stop being so fucking stubborn. Hawkins is a good guy, fuck him, don’t fuck him, but since when do you avoid people you hook up with?”
“You should definitely fuck him,” Brin says, far more enthusiastically than I’d like.
“I agree. You probably should at least once, Stas. For science.”
The performing arts major and the English literature major, the two least STEM people I know, both look at me, synchronized nodding and talking. “For science.”
TEN | NATHAN
Haveyou ever seen a woman sprint in stilettos? I have.
Last week. I hadn’t even gotten off my knees before Anastasia’s hand was straightening her dress and reaching for the door handle. She gave me one last look, post-orgasm glow warming her cheeks, then she got the fuck out of there like Road Runner.
She was moving so quickly, I’m surprised there wasn’t smoke behind her. All I could do was let her leave, otherwise, I’d have been stepping out with a throbbing boner into a house full to the brim with people.
Did I know that was what was going to happen when I took her upstairs? No. The best-case scenario was she’d think I was looking out for her, maybe she’d agree to finally be friends. Did I think there was a chance that she’d end up crying my name, and I’d be sucking the taste of her off my fingers? I don’t think any normal man would, under the circumstances.
Is that memory on repeat in my head every time I jerk off? Obviously.
She clearly regrets it, since every time she sees me, she darts off in the opposite direction. I thought at first it might be embarrassment, but after seeing her in bed with Rothwell yesterday, I’m back to believing the interest is one-sided.
I thought maybe she was dating Rothwell, like Henry seems to think she is. Maybe I was a mistake, a moment of weakness, but I had to stop because I was making myself feel ill. I hate cheaters and my gut was telling me that wasn’t the case with her. I felt immediately better when I spotted Ryan looking close with Liv Abbott.
I don’t know what type of relationship Stas and Ryan have, but whatever it is, they’re clearly not exclusive.
I’ve decided today is the day we’re going to talk it out. She’s good at communicating her feelings, she’s proved that a few times. She’s obviously not good at facing men whose faces she’s come on.
The plan is to catch her straight after training, since she trains with Shithead before us on a Friday. JJ is furious we’re not going to have time to stop for Dunkin’, mumbling something about his constitutional rights. I promised to buy him two doughnuts next week, and it seemed to placate him. He’s excited to ambush—his words, not mine—Stassie with me, and watch me get shot down.
Bold of him to assume that I’ll get close enough to be shot down.
Focusing on how to win over Anastasia has been enough of a distraction to not wonder why my dad has been blowing up my phone for three days and is currently showing no signs of slowing down.
Assuming he’s calling about the significant dent in my available funds after paying for Robbie’s party, I don’t want to speak to him anyway. I’m sure a guy with a normal dad would assume it’s a good luck call, since our first game of the season is tomorrow. But sadly, my dad isn’t normal.
Mr. H has been more of a dad to me than mine and having the Hamlets in town for Robbie’s birthday has been great. Great for me, maybe not great for Sabrina, who had an impromptu meeting with them on Sunday morning, while only wearing Robbie’s T-shirt.
Mrs. H looked like she was going to combust with happiness, while Mr. H gave Robbie a double thumbs-up. Brin looked like a deer caught in headlights, and Robbie was just as bad.
JJ had a look on his face that I’ve never seen before. He looked like it was the best moment of his life, and that only increased when Henry asked Sabrina loudly if she regretted not putting on pants.
Having the Hamlets here reminds me of home, but the good memories, the ones before Mom died. Talking out strategies with them reminds me why I love hockey, and now I’m pumped for the start of this season.
I know I’ve said it before, but I mean it this time. This year is going to be different.
* * *
I always knowshit is going down when my phone incessantly buzzes. Ignoring Professor Jones’s painfully boring recap on macronutrient metabolism, I pull my phone from my pocket.