Page 2 of Just my Puck (Love & Laughter #1)
JASON
W atching with rapt attention as the girl scrambles away from me like her ass is on fire, she drops her book in the process. Something, somewhere deep down, almost makes me call her back, but she is already slipping out of the exit and flitting off into the night.
Looking back at the groupies in front of me, it irritates me that more than one of them seems to have got it all on video and will no doubt be posting any second on social media.
“Don’t be douches,” I joke, but I figure I’m already too late as a couple of women giggle and tap their screens.
Glancing around as the Zamboni passes by, I catch Steele’s gaze.
He is hunched and scowling, which isn’t new, but he appears worse than usual tonight.
We’d taken a significant loss, and it sucks.
We seem to be on a losing streak, and nothing we do is working toward changing that.
We need a fucking good-luck mascot at this point.
“Let’s go get a beer,” I say to him, standing up and getting ready to leave.
The entourage will follow, but tonight I just want to drown my sorrows that scoring two goals was basically a complete waste of my time and energy.
I was all over the goddamn rink like a fucking rash, and still, we suffered a crushing loss.
We’ve officially hit the bottom of the league, and if things don’t pick up soon, the Titan’s owner, Geoff, is going to start handing out pink slips.
“Might just head home,” Steele mutters. To be fair, he rarely uses another tone of voice. He’s one of my best buds, and we share a house overlooking the bay area with Carter, our goalie.
Giving him a swift nod, I head out, followed as expected, by a group of women obviously trying to flirt with me.
Usually, I would be all over it and them, not really giving a shit which one I fucked, even if it was more than one, but tonight I’m just not feeling it.
I’m strangely uninterested. All I can really think about is the girl with the glasses who had fallen into my lap, and I find myself wishing that I’d been able to get her name.
Her hands have left an imprint on my thighs. It has me wanting to feel them wrapped around my cock.
I’ve never been so captivated by anyone before, and I wonder what makes her so alluring. There is never a shortage of women of all kinds throwing themselves at me, but this one has left a mark, and it’s disorientating.
“Hey, wait up,” Carter calls, catching up to me, his blonde hair flopping over his forehead.
“You okay?” I ask gruffly.
“Fuck, yeah. Geoff knows he can’t get rid of me this late in the season.”
“Guess I’ll be next.”
“Probably. He wants to do it one by one, create the maximum amount of discomfort so someone cracks. He’s a dick.”
Nodding slowly, I wonder when I’ll be called in to be ripped a new one. “Two beers, and then we’d better call it a night,” I mutter.
“We’ll see,” he replies. “I feel the need to get blasted, stay out all night, crawl home as the sun rises, and then sleep until tomorrow night when I’ll get up and do it all again.”
“And normally, I would be joining you, but not tonight.”
“You going soft?”
Shaking my head with a snort. “Hardly. But someone has to be responsible.”
“Ooh,” he drawls. “I get it. This is about turning twenty-eight in a few months, isn’t it?”
“No!” I choke on my spit as the thought scares me half to death.
I’m hitting that age where the word retirement is looming, and it’s taking a mental toll on me.
Not to mention a physical one. Fully aware that I’m trying to prove to everyone, including myself, that I’m in top form is, in a word, exhausting.
The very idea of going out tonight and getting drunk enough to forget the name of the woman I take home is unappealing, and at some point, I need to shake off this bad boy image.
Carter gives me a searching stare but then changes the subject. “So, who was she? That pretty little brunette with the glasses? You watched her like you wanted to eat her up.”
Just thinking about her has me growling as I picture sinking my teeth into her supple skin until she cries out my name.
She is much too innocent and pure to be fucking around with players like Carter and me.
She probably doesn’t even know what dirty sex is, but the thought of teaching her has me straightening up as my cock stiffens unexpectedly.
I don’t need to think about that shit at the moment.
Fuck it! Enough with this random girl already, and enough of feeling over the fucking hill when I'm not even thirty yet.
“Fuck knows. Doesn’t matter. She’s not my type.”
Carter raises an eyebrow but decides not to call me on my bullshit. He can see straight through me on any given day, and this is no different.
The bar we head to isn’t far from the arena, and many of our fans will be there hoping to get an autograph. Unless they're waiting to smash our heads in for losing, once again, to a team we should've defeated with our eyes closed.
Heaving a sigh and deciding to get my head out of my ass for an hour or two, I follow Carter into the bar, where we’re instantly surrounded, beers being shoved into our hands.