Rolling over in my bed, I sigh and blink away the memories. Turns out it was all a misunderstanding. But by the time I got the real story, it was too late. The damage had been done. I couldn’t take back the clothing destruction.
It’s been a month since all this went down. A month of reliving the hours spent in that bed with him. A month of embarrassment over my overreaction. A month of being horrified that I let the whole situation happen in the first place. Tonight there’s a charity exhibition game, and Randy’s playing. Sunny’s forcing me to go with her because her boyfriend, Miller, set the whole thing up. So I have to see Randy again. I’m not sure what’s worse: my residual mortification or the fact that at least twice a week I wake up on the cusp of an orgasm, with Randy’s stunning face and body burned into the back of my lids. My body is clearly interested in receiving the pleasure he generously provided again. And again.
And again.
But that’s too bad because I hate him. Smug bastard.
I hate him more because I can’t get my body on board. He was supposed to be a distraction. A fling. Screwing around for the sake of gratification and nothing else. He’s the last man I should want. He’s a player. He lives for the game. On ice, off ice, it’s all the same. And I don’t want to make the mistake of ramming my tongue down his throat yet again. I’ve already embarrassed myself enough when it comes to Randy Ballistic.
Chapter 1
Run, Run, Run!
LILY
The game is over, and Sunny—formally known as Sunshine Waters—my best friend since grade one, is currently projected on the Jumbotron for the entire arena to view. Miller is mauling her while “Walking on Sunshine” blasts through the sound system in celebration of his team’s win. Actually, the real winner is a twelve-year-old boy named Michael and his family. Proceeds from this charity event are going toward his treatment. He has a brain tumor.
Miller and Sunny’s overly affectionate display would be cute if I wasn’t such a jaded bitch. Right now I hate everyone in happy relationships, including Sunny.
Okay, that’s not entirely true. If anyone deserves someone to love all over her, it’s Sunny. Prior to Miller, her boyfriends were sucky.
He, however, is a great guy. I didn’t think so at first, but like mold, he’s grown on me. I look away from the screen when they kiss, surveying the rink and the players milling around off the ice. I’m seeking out one player in particular, just to torture myself.
I spot Randy about twenty feet away from them, his helmet under his arm. His beard is lush and magical, and his grin is the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen. He runs a sweaty hand through his hair, pushing it back off his face. It’s wet. Probably sweat-soaked. I should find that gross. I don’t.
Instead, a backbeat starts up in my clit—full percussion. It’s like a deejay made a home in my underwear, and my vagina’s where all the bass resides. Fuuuuuck. Why does he have to be so hot? Why was I such an asshole last time I saw him? The tiny flutter in my stomach turns into a tornado of hummingbirds. Heat lasers from my vagina through my body, exploding in my cheeks.
“Come on, Lily!” Daisy Waters, Sunny’s mom and my “Momma Two,” as I’ve come to refer to her over the years, tugs on my arm. “Let’s go upstairs to the bar and get ourselves a drink before everyone gets there!”
I look away from the insane hotness, shutting down my memories before I melt into the floor and lose the ability to speak.
“Can I have pop? And can I order some food?” Brett, my thirteen-year-old cousin asks. He’s endlessly hungry, and he’s with me tonight because he’s friends with Michael—and he’d say Miller and Randy as well—after going to the hockey camp they volunteered at this summer.
“There’s tons of food! Don’t you worry!” Daisy ruffles his hair.
He ducks out from under her hand and hurriedly rearranges his ’do. In the past month he’s gone from wearing jogging pants and not caring what he looks like to spending forty-five minutes in the bathroom, fixing his hair and using far too much body spray. It could be worse. He could smell like most preteen boys: more goat than human.
Daisy links arms with me, chatting away about the engagement party she’s throwing in two weeks for Sunny’s brother, Alex, and his fiancée, Violet. She rambles on about how excited she is. This party has been a constant topic of conversation over the past month. It’s pretty much all anyone’s been talking about—that and this fundraiser.