Page 14 of One-Time Shot

I sent a hockey stick emoji and a winky face.It’s on.

I turned my cell off so I wouldn’t be tempted to keep this up. My smile was already stupid big.

So what? That didn’t mean anything.

I pushed open the door to Langley’s place and was instantly assaulted by the smell of stale beer, pot, and pizza. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t a raging party, but it was more than a few teammates hanging out. The group on the sofa screamed at the action on the television while another group gathered in the kitchen, hovering around a stack of pizza boxes. And a few hung in the space in between, red cups in hand.

A girl I’d hooked up with last year shot a flirty look my way as she leaned against Regan’s arm. He was one our defensive players—a sweet guy with outrageous dimples and curly brown hair who morphed into a beast on the ice. Most of the time, anyway. He hadn’t been playing well lately, but let’s be honest, this midweek impromptu party stuff wasn’t a good idea for any of us.

Gus Langley was a great guy and a decent scorer, but a terrible captain. His best intentions always lacked forethought. The guy couldn’t just invite a few teammates over to watch the game. No, he had to make it extra fun—invite pretty girls and buy weed and enough pizza to feed a small army.

Maybe that was me being a stick-in-the-mud, though. We didn’t have a game tomorrow, and a little bonding time was always positive. My teammates were good people. The problem here was me. I was too serious, aggravated with my agent, my dad, and all kinds of shit I couldn’t control. I needed to chill out.

So I fist-bumped Ty and Langley, thanked whoever handed me a beer, and let myself slide into an old habit like a warm glove on a cold winter night.

Another beer later, I was beginning to hit my stride. Three or four beers later, I was the most popular guy in the room. My voice was louder than usual, my stories each more outrageous than the last, and there were at least three very hot girls hanging on my every word. I was totally getting laid tonight.

This was good, right? I liked sex, and the brunet with red lips and olive skin dragging her nails along my chest was my type. And best of all, she wasn’t clingy. I’d bet she’d be down for something quick and dirty.

She slipped her hand around my neck and pulled my mouth close to hers. “Let’s get out of here.”

I nodded and started to follow her, pausing in the doorway. “I need my jacket. Be right back.”

I found it lying over a sofa arm and slipped it on. And out of sheer habit, I checked to make sure my phone was still in my pocket. Yep…but it was off. I couldn’t remember why I’d turned it off until a new message lit up my screen.

Please don’t be offended. I don’t object to hockey, per se. I’m uninterested in all sports. Explaining the rules wouldn’t work. I’m unteachable.

Malcolm.

Not untable. Do u know skate?I typed, bleary-eyed and unsteady on my feet.

My phone buzzed immediately.

I think you’re asking if I can skate. If so, the answer is not well.

I reread my text, wincing at the missing words.Sorry. Too many beers.

Thumbs-up emoji.I’ll see you tomorrow?

I nodded as if he could see me.Yep. I have a lot to teach you. Later, Malonie.

I don’t think so. Also, you spelled my surname incorrectly.

How u speel it?

Maloney. You seem to be having trouble spelling in general.

Beer, I typed.

I’ll let you get back to it.Three dancing dots popped up. They were blurry as fuck, though. No more beer for me. No more…anything. It was time to go.

And with that, I brushed past my teammates and friends to the sultry babe waiting for me at the door.

Now, look…I’d like to claim that I wasn’t operating on all cylinders—and that was the damn truth—but I was still cognizant. I didn’t know this girl’s name, but she had a great smile, great tits, and I had a strong feeling we’d click physically. I didn’t need to know her life story, and she didn’t need mine. We knew the score without going into specifics. The only question now would be: my place or yours? That was all.

But my fucking phone vibrated in my hand, and I was dumb enough to glance down at Malcolm’s newest message.

Snoring emoji.Good night, Erickson.