Playing for Keeps(7)

 

Justin gives me an uneasy look, but I’m suddenly really busy inspecting the polish on my thumbnail. If he thinks I don’t know about all the puck bunnies, he’s even more clueless than I thought. But it doesn’t mean I want his sex life rubbed in my face. It’s been hard enough watching him disappear from the bar early with a woman more times than I can count.

 

“Coach is going to be riding us hard. We can’t be hungover tomorrow,” Justin says.

 

Owen stays quiet, grabbing the video controller to start another game.

 

“Oh, now I’ve got your attention?” Justin chuckles.

 

“No. You’ve got my pity, dude. Two weeks without pussy? My balls would be officially blue,” Owen says.

 

I force a smile and shake my head. Justin didn’t say that it had been two weeks since he’d seen some action, just that it was two weeks ago since he and my brother went out with those twins—or Busty Barbie and Botox Betty as I like to call them.

 

And even though my heart is squeezing inside my chest at the thought of Justin with one of those girls, I laugh right along with Owen. I just hope he can’t tell how hollow the sound is.

 

I took Becca’s advice and moved on with my life, but that doesn’t mean I’ve gotten over what happened. I don’t even know how that would be possible. Justin Brady has held a part of my heart since I was six years old. As I grew up, that comfortable fondness evolved from friendship into love…for me anyway.

 

The year I turned fourteen, Justin was away at college and wasn’t at my birthday party like he usually would have been. And then to make matters worse, he decided to come home one weekend later when I was sick with the flu. He’d taken to staying at my parents’ house rather than with his dad when he came back for a visit to avoid his family’s nonstop drama. I didn’t know all the specifics, I only knew that his dad had remarried and Justin didn’t really feel welcome there anymore. Normally I’d be ecstatic to see him, but instead of spying on him and Owen and parading around in front of him in my best skinny jeans, I was laid up on the couch with a fever in my ratty bathrobe.

 

My mom kept trying to shoo everyone away from me so that no one else would get sick, but Justin would have none of that. He checked in on me several times, sitting with me to keep me company, and brought me tea when I complained of being freezing. I can still remember with clarity Owen shouting from the bedroom for Justin to re-join him in their video-game tournament, but Justin only grinned down at me, and called out to Owen the game could wait. That secret little smile meant the world to me. It still does. Even if I don’t want it to.

 

So yeah, getting over our night of mind-blowing sex is probably not happening. Plus, to actually get over something, you probably have to, I don’t know, talk about it like two grown ass adults. Which Justin and I never have. Without any type of closure my heart has remained wide open.

 

“Fine,” Owen concedes. “Let’s order some food. You in, Elise?”

 

“What?” I shake my head, tuning back into the conversation. “No, I already ate. And I’m going to get ice cream with Andy in a little while.”

 

Owen abandons the game he’s starting, and looks at me. “Damn. So it’s getting pretty serious with this guy. Maybe I should meet him.”

 

I can feel Justin watching us, but I don’t meet his gaze.

 

“You will,” I say to Owen. “Soon-ish.”

 

The truth is, Andy’s not a hockey fan, and I really can’t imagine him getting along very well with my brother. When I told him my brother played pro-hockey, he made some offhand remark about hockey being little better than MMA with all the fighting. Hockey’s always been a huge part of my life and while it’s not a requirement that the person I’m dating be a fan, I’m not sure exactly how well ultra-conservative Andy and my foul-mouthed brother would get along.

 

I check the time on my phone and then rise to my feet. “Actually, I need to get going.” I grab my purse, and slip on my jacket. Through the high-rise’s floor-to-ceiling windows, I can see the light drizzle darkening the sky. It’s officially fall in Seattle.

 

I lean down and give Owen a kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight. You two be good.”

 

Before things went down between us, the old Justin would have made some flirty remark like, “I’m always good.”

 

But now he stays quiet.

 

“Text me when you get home,” Owen adds, eyes already back on the game.

 

I leave without a backward glance and make my way to the elevator at the end of the hall.

 

One day at a time.

 

Becca would be so proud.

 

 

 

I swirl my spoon through the melted puddle of chocolate ice cream in the bottom of my bowl.

 

“Did you hear what I said?” Andy asks, brows knitted in confusion as he looks at me.

 

“Hm? No, sorry.”

 

He launches into some story about what happened in his third period class today, but I just can’t get myself to focus. The fact that I’m a preschool teacher and he’s a middle school math teacher should mean that we have something in common, only it’s starting to feel less and less like we actually do.

 

I laugh when he’s done talking and hope that I’ve read the social cues correctly. Andy balls up his napkin and tosses it inside his empty ice cream dish.

 

“You seem really distracted lately. Everything okay?” he asks.

 

He really is a sweet guy. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Cute in a nerdy kind of way. I like him. At least, I think I do. Or maybe I just want to like him, or anyone other than Justin. I’m not even sure anymore.

 

I lean forward and press my lips to his, and will myself to feel something—anything as his kisses me back. I will my heart to beat faster, for my palms to get sweaty, for my nipples to tighten—anything.

 

Only none of that happens.

 

As I pull back and meet his eyes, Andy smiles.

 

He’s a nice guy. But nice doesn’t set my skin on fire, doesn’t make my belly fill with butterflies like Justin does. I don’t feel like I’m going to die if he doesn’t get his hands on me in the next four seconds.

 

And none of that is Andy’s fault, but fuck. I hate this.

 

I’m pretty sure Justin’s dick broke me, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be fixed.

 

 

 

 

 

7

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Douchebags

 

 

Justin

 

 

 

A plate of cold pizza sits on the coffee table in front of me. I’d lost my appetite about the time Elise announced that it was getting serious between her and the guy she’s been dating. She left an hour ago and Owen called some of the guys over. I’ve been watching them play video games, but I couldn’t tell you who won or lost, or what any of the trash talk over the past hour has entailed.

 

Just the thought of her with someone else brings out all my protective, caveman instincts. Fuck, it’s not like I’ve been a saint—far from it—but hooking up with someone I won’t ever see again feels a hell of a lot different than Elise developing feelings for someone she’s in a relationship with. I sound like such a hypocrite. Correction, I am a hypocrite.

 

“Brady!” Teddy calls from the other side of the room. He’s waving a video game controller in the air to get my attention.

 

“Pull your tampon out and play me,” he says with a challenging smirk.

 

I flash him my middle finger, but take the controller that Asher offers over from beside me.

 

He’s right though, I am distracted. And I really don’t want my team to notice, because I’m not in a position to answer any questions, especially not with Owen sitting on the other end of the couch.

 

“Get ready to get annihilated,” I say, flashing him a cocky grin.

 

“You’ve been playing like shit all night, there’s no way you’re going to beat me,” he mutters.

 

And … Apparently he was right, because three games later, I hand over the controller in defeat.

 

No one else comments on my funk of a mood though.

 

“Dude, it’s not the playoffs, it’s time to shave the vagina growing on your face,” Teddy says to Owen, shaking his head.

 

I glance over at Owen and can’t help but chuckle. He’s pouting out his lips and damn if I’m not picturing another set of pink lips surrounded by stubble. I shudder. That’s not a mental image you want associated with your best friend.

 

Fuck. What I need is another beer.

 

Or a lobotomy to get that visual out of my brain.

 

“Go ahead, TK. Keep being a dick,” Owen says to Teddy, “and I won’t share the girls I just texted.”

 

“Ah, come on, fucker. Don’t be like that,” Teddy groans. “You know you love me.”

 

“You got bunnies coming over?” Asher asks.

 

I side-eye him, remembering all the times he’s desecrated the hot tub on our balcony. I wish he’d just take one the fuck home. I’m not in the mood for their shit tonight. “Yup. Got a group of girls coming by,” Owen confirms. “Brady needs to get some. He’s been in a funk ever since training camp ended.”