That’s what puck bunnies are for, if I’m not mistaken. I might not be very familiar with hockey, but I know the meaning of the term: girls hanging around the rinks, throwing themselves at the men for a chance at their beds. Maybe he thinks I wouldn’t want that, I realize as I swipe on some mascara. Maybe if I bring it up to him, he’ll be interested in rearranging our deal to include sex.
If he can use the stick in his pants like he uses his fingers, I’ll be in for a treat. Plus, it isn’t fair that he got me off and I have yet to return the favor. I pull out my phone, intending to call him and ask for an update to our agreement.
As soon as I hit the dial button, however, I cancel the call. No, I tell myself. That’s not a phone call to make at seven thirty on a Monday morning; it’s probably something we should discuss in person, anyway…or maybe we could just have sex first and talk about it later. I am all about ignoring problems until they can’t be ignored any longer.
If we both enjoyed the sex enough, why would we need to have a problem? Like my dad said, worst-case scenario is I come home from Minnesota and resume my daily life here in Los Angeles. No harm, no foul.
Whether or not Ryan actually gets traded doesn’t make a huge difference. The way I see it, if he does move out here, I’ll never see him…unless he keeps ordering pizzas from me; then I suppose we’d have to talk about things. Maybe. If he doesn’t move, well, we’ll be thousands of miles apart.
My phone rings, cutting off my wandering thoughts. I look down in horror to find Ryan’s name on the screen. Shit. He saw me dial him and hang up. I can probably blow it off as a butt dial on my way to class.
Speaking of class, I’m about to be late, and I can’t take another tardy in my econ class. I grab my backpack, shove my legs in some jeans, my feet in some booties, and my arms into a black t-shirt. It’s my go-to uniform—it takes me from school to work to the comedy clubs without having to change more than my shirt and the amount of mascara on my lashes.
I take the steps two at a time. “See you this afternoon, Dad!”
“Andi, there’s—” my dad yells back, but I’m already out the door.
I feel a little bad, but he can text me if it’s that serious. I am late, and I’m planning on walking the half mile to school since it takes longer to find parking on the stupid campus than to hoof it on foot.
My phone rings again when I’m halfway to the sidewalk—Ryan again. Shit. My finger hovers over the accept button. It wouldn’t take all that long to explain about the butt dial, but at the same time, I’m really late.
I press the ignore button.
Somehow, I still hear his voice.
“Blowing me off?” Ryan asks. “Nice to see you, too.”
My head jerks up and around after I first check my phone. The call isn’t connected, so I turn my attention to the sound of his voice, and that’s when I see him. There, in all its glory, is his gorgeous body perched against a car, his t-shirt form-fitted around sexy, strong arms. In his hands—those hands that made me feel amazing just last night—he holds two coffees.
“What the hell are you doing here?” I ask. Then I raise a hand to cover my mouth. “I’m sorry. I mean, what brings you around on this fine morning?”
“You didn’t answer your phone.”
“You couldn’t possibly have gotten here since I didn’t answer…” I trail off, realizing he’s joking. “Funny. I’m running really late to class. I promise I was going to text you as soon as I got there.”
“Get in.” He shifts, pointing to the car behind him. It’s a third car, neither the BMW nor the Ferrari. I’m not sure where he got this one, but it’s probably best if I stay away from moving vehicles with my track record.
“Oh, I was just going to walk. It’s not far.”
He grins a cheeky smile that compels me return it. “I brought you coffee.”
“What?! You drove across town, in morning rush hour, to give me a cup of coffee?”
“You’ve delivered plenty of things to me, and I figured it was my turn.”
“But…” I trail off. “You’re nuts.”
“I wanted to see you,” he says. “You’re late to class. Get in the car and let me drop you at the doors. Parking sucks around there.”
“Well, if you’re sure.”
“If I get five more minutes with you, it’s worth it.”
“Who turned you into Romeo?” I give in, taking quick steps toward the car. I grin to make sure he knows I’m kidding, and then accept the proffered coffee.
He kisses me on the cheek as I take the cup from him, the sweet scent of espresso and frothed milk rising to meet my nose.
It’s a familiar scent, and I raise my brows at him. “This is from your favorite little coffee shop.”
“Tell me it’s not your favorite now, too.” He opens the door for me, assists me inside like I’m some fragile doll, and then presses a kiss to my forehead before he closes the door. “Keep your hands and arms inside the vehicle for this wild ride.”
I think he’s kidding, but he slides into the driver’s side and the wild part starts. He pulls away from the curb, and I realize he definitely wasn’t kidding. He drives like a maniac, but this is not a bad thing. In fact, he not only gets me to class on time, but he drops me off at the door seven minutes early.
I feel like my hair is a little windblown as I turn to him in shock. “Quite the ride.”
“I’ve been training,” he says with a smirk. “I heard the traffic out here was horrible.”
I laugh. He’s funny, kind, and smart. I remember my dad’s words from last night, and I turn to face him. “Hey,” I say more softly, my voice taking on a slightly serious tone. “I have to talk to you about something.”
“Of course.” He tries to hide it, but his face sinks in disappointment. “I expected you to change your mind, Andi, don’t worry. Minnesota is a long way away. I just met you, and if you don’t want to come, I totally understand. It was…”
I rest a hand on his arm, squeezing tighter and tighter until he stops talking. “It’s not that at all.” I set my coffee in the cup holder, and then I do the thing that feels most natural in the world. I slip my hand around his head and pull him in for a kiss—a deep, lingering kiss that makes my chest heave something more than lust. When I pull back, I wait for him to open his eyes. “That’s all I wanted.”
He blinks, surprised. “That is significantly better than what I hoped you were going to say.”
“There’s one more thing, but it’s not bad,” I add quickly, before he gets that crumbly, disappointed face again. I hate that face on him—it ruins the sparkling, beautiful one I’ve come to adore. “I think we should have sex.”
“What?”
“Sex.”
“I understand the word,” he says, running a hand over his forehead. “Do you mean…right now?”
I look at the students flooding around our car in the drop-off lane, and I blush. “No, of course not! I’m talking about our agreement.”
“Agreement?” He seems a little lost, and I can’t say that I entirely blame him.
“You asked me to come to Minnesota as a friend, to get out of your mom’s date choices.”
“Yes,” he says.
“And I want to add an amendment to that agreement.”
“An amendment?”
“Let’s be friends who have sex. I don’t want to go as your friend, I want to go as your…well, friend with benefits.”