PUCKED Up (5 page)

When I don’t answer, she gives me a knowing smile. “So after you visit Sunny, you do that camp thing, right?”

“
Yeah. Randy’s meeting me in Toronto, and we’re road tripping together.”

“
You’ll have fun. It’s not the usual hockey camp deal, is it?”

“
I wanted to change it up this year, and it’s close to Sunny.” That I managed to get Randy to agree to come was a serious feat. I sold the whole “camping experience” like we used to have back when we were kids. He’s also got a few friends up that way, having played for Toronto during his first year.

“
Smart. You coming back after that? Or do you have more stuff planned?”

“
I have ideas for another project, but it’s local, and I’mma need Vi’s help.”

“
How is Violet, anyway?”

“
Annoying.” Being the team trainer, Natasha’s met her a few times.

“
It’s amazing she deals with you at all.”

“
I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m awesome.” I give her a cheeky grin. “Vi’s good. She and Waters got engaged.”

“
I heard. You don’t sound very happy about that.”

“
It’s whatever. I mean, they haven’t been together that long. Like, six months? It feels way soon, ya know?”

“
Sometimes when you know, you know.”

The first night I met Sunny, I knew she wasn’t the same as the girls I usually spent my nights with. Or my early mornings. I don’t think that’s what Natasha means, though. “I guess. She’s a big girl, and she can make her own decisions, but if he fucks her over again, I’m gonna break his face.”

“
I’m sure he’d do the same if you screwed Sunny over.”

“
Truth. That’s not gonna happen.”

I fish my phone out of the bag of rice Randy—or one of the girls, more likely—put it in. It’s been plugged in this entire time, but I’ve still got nothing except a blank screen. Natasha emails me a few dates for sessions that I’ll have to check at home, before I leave for the airport. I want to call Sunny and check in, but I’ve never been great at memorizing numbers, so I don’t have hers banked. It’s a weekday, so she’s probably teaching yoga or volunteering at the animal shelter, anyway.

Natasha gives me a one-armed hug and waves to Randy, who’s floating on his back in the pool. Well, the top half of his body is floating, thanks to the pool noodle, but his legs are sinking. She doesn’t so much as look at Lance as she walks past him to cut through the house, and he’s too busy socializing to notice.

I shove my phone back into the rice bag. I’ll have to check it again later. I’m not sure how long it needs to dry out before it starts working. If I’m still having problems in a couple of hours, I’ll have to hit up the phone store. I don’t like not having access to people when I need it. I’m hoping this camp isn’t so remote I can’t get a signal. That’ll fuck things up for me. I rely on daily messages to Sunny so she knows she’s on my mind.

All of a sudden there’s a music change. We go from rock—which is how we work out—to some pop dance crap.

Lance scans the patio. “Where’s Tash at?”

“
She left.”

“
What? When?”

“
A minute ago.”

He jumps up and jogs across the concrete, his brows creased. I have to wonder what the deal is there. Sometimes I feel like all the flirting Natasha puts up with from Lance isn’t just him being him. Lance digging on her would be all kinds of fucked up since she knows exactly how frequently he lets the bunnies eat his carrot.

Randy paddles over to the edge of the pool, and hoists himself out. “What was that about?”

“
I’m not sure,” I say, because I’m not, and I’mma keep my hypothesizing to myself.

Lance’s doorbell goes off and, like Pavlov’s dog, Randy goes running. He comes back a few minutes later, piggy-backing one of the newly arrived girls. The other three are practically tripping over themselves to get next to him. A couple of months ago when Vi and Waters were on the outs because he was—and I maintain still is—a huge fuckwad, I suggested she go on a date with Randy. Even though he’s my friend, I’m glad that never happened.

I recognize a couple of these girls. I hope my dick hasn’t been inside any of their holes. Although there’s a good chance it has.

Randy doesn’t waste any time. He starts running for the water with the girl on his back. Her eyes go wide when she realizes what he’s going to do, and she starts screaming and kicking. He’s got a solid hold on her legs, so she doesn’t have a chance in hell of getting free. She bites his shoulder as he takes the leap. I smile at her absolute horror.

Dick Yeller stomps past Flash Beaver, heading for the house. The new girls notice and whisper among themselves. It’s too much drama too early in my day.

I hadn’t expected the bunnies today, although I probably should have. Lance doesn’t do the chill-out thing very often. Usually when Natasha comes by, she hangs out for a while after the workout. We BBQ and swim, and then she takes off and we plan our night. Lance always walks her out. I figured it was him being all polite or whatever, but now I’m not so sure.

“
This must be torture,” Lance says from beside me.

I glance over at him. While I was busy scoping the scene, he must have come back outside.

“
What do you mean?” I drain what’s left of my bottle of water.

“
All the girls.”

“
It’s no big deal.” Honestly, I figured it’d be a lot harder than it is. Although the bunnies are damn hard to avoid, especially with friends like Lance who throw parties all the time.

I change the subject. “Did you find Natasha?”

“
Nah. She was already gone by the time I got inside.” A twitch under his eye is the only tell that I’ve hit a nerve. “You know, if you disappeared with one of the bunnies for a while, no one would say anything.”

I take off my sunglasses and pin him with a cold glare. “My balls could be so fucking blue they look like they’ve been handled by a Smurf, and I still wouldn’t do that to Sunny.”

He raises his hands in the air. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to upset you. I just figured . . . I don’t know. It can’t be easy. She’s all the way in Canada, and you’re here. Long-distance relationships don’t really work, you know?”

I drop my sunglasses back in place. I don’t want to think about it not working, which is a real possibility. I don’t know the stats on long-distance relationships, but I’m guessing they aren’t good.

Realistically, if me and Sunny are going to be long term, one of us will have to relocate. Since my job is always subject to change, that would mean Sunny going where I go, and she’d need a job that’s easy to do anywhere. It’s something I’ve already put thought into, which says more than I’m willing to admit about how I feel about her.

I nab one of the lawn chair floaty things and toss it in the water, jumping in after it. This isn’t a conversation I want to have with Lance, not before I see Sunny. Sometimes I feel like this whole thing is set up to be a failure from the start.

I must fall asleep on my floaty chair, because all of a sudden I’m really fucking awake, and I have to take a piss. Getting out means dealing with the bunnies. I paddle over to the edge and hoist myself up. Instead of passing about twenty of them to get into the house—they’ve multiplied while I napped—I head for the pool house bathroom. No one else is in here, thank God. I’ve accidentally walked in on people getting it on more than once.

When I come out of the bathroom, a familiar-looking girl is waiting outside the door.

“
Buck!” She wraps her arms around my neck.

“
Hey.” I pat her back, fully aware she’s wearing nothing but a tiny string bikini, and there’s absolutely no ass to the thing. I can feel her boobs against my stomach. There’s too much skin. My dick wants to react. I think about dead kittens and roadkill to stop a hard-on from forming.

Eventually she lets go and takes a step back. It’s not enough. She’s still too close. I keep my eyes on her face and try not to see her cleavage. I wrack my brain for a name, for something beyond the customary “Honey” I’m used to. I’ve got nothing.

“
It’s been a while,” she says. “I haven’t seen you at the bars. You hanging somewhere new these days?” Her desperation isn’t attractive.

“
I haven’t been going out as much.”

She pops a hip and pouts. Her lips are red like cherries, or blood, or Satan’s ball sac. “That’s too bad. I think some of us are going to the club tomorrow night. You should come.”

“
I’m out of town. Maybe another time.” I step out of the way so she can get to the bathroom. “I should, uh . . . give you some privacy. The fan doesn’t work in there.”

It’s a stupid thing to say, but I don’t care. I need to get away from this mostly naked chick who I evidently have a brief history with. I leave her to do her thing and head back to the pool. It’s no better.

A few girls have gotten in the water. Two of them are latched onto Randy, their hair pulled up in ponytails. More of them are losing their shirts and shorts, so it’s skin, skin, and more skin. Some chick hands me a beer, and I take it, since it’s the polite thing to do.

Unwilling to get back in the pool with all the half-naked girls in there, I drop down in one of the lounge chairs on the patio.

“
Oh my God! You’re Buck Butterson! But your real name is Miller, right?”

A curvy brunette is standing right in front of me, and her friend, a skinny blonde, looks horrified. I’m shocked she knows my real name.

“
I’m sorry. I don’t mean to—God, I can’t—you’re amazing. I love you. I mean, you’re an awesome player. Chicago won after you got traded! And that was bogus on Miami’s part. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong. The media can suck it. Anyway, you were outstanding during the finals. I’m so sorry. I don’t think I can stop myself.”

I smile. She’s a real fan—the kind who gets genuinely excited about the game, and not just about my dick.

“
It’s cool.” I extend my hand.

She grabs it and squeezes, shaking harder than necessary. “Jessabelle.” Her cheeks go a vibrant shade of red. “But my friends call me Jellie.”

“
Like peanut butter and jelly?”

“
But with an -ie on the end. Is that weird? It probably is. Is it okay for me to call you Miller? I know you go by Buck, but if it’s okay—”

“
It’s cool. You’re cool. Take a breath.”

“
Wow. Great. Awesome. You’re so blond. You’re like a real-life Ken doll, but your hair’s not plastic. Who’s the girl who always posts stuff about you being a yeti?” She glances at my arms. “You don’t have that much hair.”

Fucking Vi and her comments on Facebook. “I only turn on the yeti moon.” When all I get is a blank look, I say, “My sister thinks it’s hilarious to post that BS.”

She nods like she understands. “She’s funny, right? Do you think I could get a picture with you?”

“
Yeah. Sure.” I don’t consider her outfit—she’s in a pair of booty shorts and a bikini top that barely covers her nipples—or that I’m only wearing a pair of swim shorts.

She pulls her phone from her back pocket and hands it to her friend. Then she drops down in my lap and wraps herself around me. Before I can stop her, Jellie’s friend starts snapping pics.

“
Whoa! Hold up!” I raise my hands in the air so I’m not touching her anywhere. Well, except for where she’s touching me with all her bare skin, which is a lot of places. “You can’t post those.”

Her friend stops clicking away and once again looks like she’s about sink into the cement. I move Jellie off of me, touching as little of her as possible. “I have a girlfriend. My lap isn’t your chair.”

“
Oh! Oh shit. I thought that was a rumor. I mean, God. You’ve never had a girlfriend, and I thought maybe since there weren’t any pictures in the last few weeks you were done . . .” she trails off.

“
We’re not done.”

“
Not even after last night?”

What would she know about last night?
“I was out with the guys.”

She gets this weird look on her face. She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I just . . . you’re an awesome player.” She snatches the phone from her friend and starts deleting pictures, or that’s what I assume she’s doing. I don’t want to be a creepy asshole and stand over her shoulder to make sure she deletes them all.

“
It’s cool. I just don’t want problems. You know?”

“
Sure. Right. Of course.”

I let her friend take another, far less problematic picture of us standing next to each other, somewhat awkwardly, while smiling. “Well, if you ever break up and you’re looking for someone to make you feel better, you can always hit me up on Facebook.”

She holds up the phone so I can see her profile. Her avatar is mostly her boobs. Below is a picture of her sitting in Lance’s lap. Up until this point I kinda liked her, in a player-to-fan way. Now she’s just another bunny making chairs out of us.