Page 14 of Just my Puck (Love & Laughter #1)

LUCY

M aking my way up the concrete steps of the library the following morning, I’m rushing to get away from the cameras still pointing at me.

When is this going to end? Needing to admit that I was rather glad no one followed Steele and me on our date last night, I find it rather odd.

Why are they so invested in Jason and his love life and not Steele’s…

especially if I was with him. Cringing at the big-headedness of that thought, I shove it aside as a who the fuck cares.

We were left alone, and that is all that matters.

Bombarded with questions of Jason Edwards and me, I ignore them all and shove open the double doors, a lot more composed than I was the other day and feeling the anticipation of the night ahead of me.

There is something different about going to the game tonight.

I’m actually excited to be going, even though I'm fully aware that the speculation will be that I’m there for Jason.

It doesn’t really bother me so much anymore.

So I face planted into a massive cock, pun fully intended, and the video went viral.

So what? Worse things have happened to Unlucky Lucy.

Like the time I was in the talent show at school, and I fell off the stage while doing my dance act.

I broke my ankle and didn’t live it down for two years.

With the internet and more people out there making fools of themselves to be shown to the world, I’m positive this will blow over, this time, pun not intended, sooner than two years.

I hope.

Breathing in the glorious smell of the library, I smile when I see Patty rush over to me.

“Well? I waited all night for you to text me to say how it went.”

“Oh, fuck,” I bleat, feeling terrible I didn’t message now. “It ended weird, and I was a bit shaken, but then he texted, and it was fine, and then I went to bed because I was so tired, and the wine made me a bit sleepy…”

“Whoa,” she says with a laugh, holding her hands up. “Slow your roll there, chicken. I was joking. But now I’m disappointed. I was hoping it was because you two did the horizontal lambada all night long. Bow, Chicka, wow-wow ,” she sings, rotating her hips suggestively.

Giggling, I shake my head. “No lambada, horizontal or otherwise. But he did ask me to the game tonight. Do you want to come with me?”

“Me?” Her surprise at my question is telling, and I suddenly feel like this is a friendship worth pursuing outside of work.

She gets me, and she is so supportive. She would never ditch me to go chasing after some jocks.

My heart drops when I realize this about my friends.

It becomes even more apparent that I’m not one of them, no matter how much I try, I’m not like them, and I don’t enjoy the same things they do.

Smiling, I say, “Yes, you.”

“I’d love to! I have seats!” she exclaims louder than strictly necessary. “Oh, this is going to be such fun! Yay!” She claps her hands excitedly. “What time should we meet?”

Her eagerness is infectious, so I go all in. “How about we meet up for a bite to eat before we go, so, say, six?”

“There’s a diner by the arena; we could go there?”

“Sounds great!”

We grin at each other, happy with our plans for the evening, but then Maple claps her hands at us like a school principal, signifying it’s time to work now.

We separate, knowing that if we don’t, we will just chat about our plans all day.

Drifting off to drop my bag in my locker and then getting to work on the returns, which is my favorite part of the job, I push the full cart toward the back of the library, where I like to start the reshelving, back to front.

My mind drifts away to thoughts of Steele Jonson before too long.

Remembering how he held my hand while we laughed and joked on our date last night. He is so sweet. I had him pegged all wrong. His size and fierce scowl are intimidating, but underneath that, he is a squishy marshmallow who has a quirky sense of humor, just like me.

Feeling my cheeks flush at the thought of kissing him, I hope that maybe, just maybe, he might do it later. Determined to actively encourage a kiss between us, I giggle softly. I bet he is a great kisser, gentle at first but then all forceful and demanding as his passion overtakes him.

I’ll admit, I’m excited to see him play later tonight, and I can’t wait to cheer him on. That should put the stoppers on this whole Jason Edwards speculation once and for all. If anyone is even bothering to take notice, that is.

A vibration on my ass cheek draws my attention back to the present.

My phone has received a text, which is shoved into the back pocket of my smart, cut-off black pants that I sometimes wear to work when it’s extra scorching outside, like today.

Not shorts, but not full-length, I can still get away with the library dress code.

Pulling it out, checking to make sure Maple isn’t watching with her steely gaze, I duck behind a stack and check the text.

It’s from Steele.

He was sweet to check in on me, making sure I was okay after things turned a bit weird after our date last night. It means so much to me that he was concerned about my well-being, making me giddy with anticipation of what tonight might hold.

Hey, little one. Checking u still coming 2nite.

Of course. What can I call you?

***

You call me little one.

Oh, u pick

Do you even like pet names?

Love em

That gives me pause. Does that mean other girls have given him endearing nicknames before? Shaking my head at the unfounded jealousy, I wrack my brain to think of something but draw a blank.

You’re thinking of one, aren’t u?

It’s not that easy! Everyone is little to you!

I want a cutesy name when I c u after the game, ‘kay?

Nodding, even though he can’t see me, I read a lot into these texts. His use of ‘text speech’ tells me he is busy and feels more comfortable texting me now, but he still wanted to check that I was coming to the game. Last night, his words were words and not shortened to save time.

I’m a full word texter. I always have been, but I don’t want to seem standoffish if he has changed the game.

‘Kay

Rolling my eyes as it feels so weird to me, I hope he doesn’t reply with the fuck-you thumbs up.

He doesn’t.

He gives me the smug smiley face, which is meant to be pleased, but will always appear smug to me.

Looking forward to seeing u l8r

Me 2

He sends me the eggplant emoji, the kitty face, the kissy face, and the laughing face, which cracks me up. Snorting as I reply with the eggplant, kitty, and the no entry sign. He replies with the sad face.

I don’t take it to heart. He won't pressure me. As the saying goes, he’s shooting his shot, but I have a feeling he will wait for me if this thing goes where I hope it will.

But who knows? Maybe if this develops in the same vein as it currently is, his eggplant might end up in my kitty sooner than he thinks.

The thought makes me secretly smile as I shove my phone back in my pocket and pull a book off the cart to replace it carefully on the shelf in front of me. No man has ever made me feel this giddy and tingly before, and I like it.