Page 2

Chapter 2

Mikey

I wandered out of my room, the sunlight feeling too bright and my head pounding. A peek into my guest room showed Obi lying on the floor, spooning his dog, Greg. Guy was sprawled out on my couch under a blanket, looking at his phone.

“ Bonjour , birthday boy,” Guy rasped. He set his phone aside. “Kitty says hi, by the way.”

“Hi, Kitty,” I grumbled. “Roles are reversed, huh? You’re sleeping on my couch for once.”

“Yeah, well, if you’d get a guest bed, I wouldn’t have to pretend to be you in college and sleep on the couch,” he pointed out.

My apartment was wrecked, cans and bottles everywhere with little spills trailing after them. It looked like the game of beer pong that went down at my island was successful.

I opened my fridge to look for something, anything, to touch my hangover. I settled on a bottle of kombucha and a bottle of Gatorade. Would those be good mixed together? Couldn’t hurt to find out. I filled a glass with water for Guy. I was hungover, but still capable of being a good host. I set the glass in front of him and flopped down into a chair.

“I think you owe your neighbor an apology,” Guy said.

My head cocked back for a second. “What neighbor?”

Guy’s eyes rounded. “You don’t remember?”

I closed my eyes and rested my head on the back of the chair. A memory of soft thighs, white silk, and angry eyes came back to me. “Right. Sweet Cheeks.”

“Her name is Jessie,” Guy corrected.

“Yep. Jessie. We had good banter.”

Guy guffawed. “Banter? She can’t stand you.”

“Impossible.” I refused to accept it. Jessie was hot as hell, even when her light brown hair was disheveled and her hazel brown eyes had the wrath of the devil himself in them. I could not forget those braless wonders of breasts swinging in my face while she was cussing me out. I could not forget her strong thighs under my hands, with such soft skin. I could not forget how hot she was when she was so angry. What would it be like to have her take that anger out on me? Sounds fun.

I never heard her get angry with her boyfriend, but I heard him get angry with her. His rage was never warranted. She should have been angry with him. Not only did it sound like he was mean to her, but I heard their pathetic sex all the time. There was no way he was getting her there. I’ve dealt with a good handful of fakers in my day, and she was faking with him.

A woman like that deserves to be made whole. If she were mine, I’d make sure she wasn’t faking.

But she wasn’t mine. She was his, and I’d been kind of an asshole to her and should probably apologize. “Yeah, you’re right,” I said. “What do I do? Send a fruit basket?”

Guy chortled. “I think you can just go say sorry. But she did mention she had to work today. She’s out living a normal person life. You’ll have to apologize after she gets home.”

After we heated some breakfast burritos that my food prep lady made, we woke Obi up.

“Can you be hung over from a gummy?” he croaked as he shuffled into the kitchen.

“Bud, I think you dominated at beer pong,” I said.

“It’s okay to stop early. You don’t have to play the whole tournament, you know,” Guy added.

“Where’s the honor in that?” Obi asked, affronted.

“He’s living his college experience, Stelle,” I said. “Let him be. No one stopped us in college.”

“Fair,” Guy said.

It was Nick Oberbeck’s rookie season with us, a goalie prodigy. At only twenty, Guy and I took him under our proverbial wings to make sure he didn’t get into too much trouble. The league can do ugly things to a man, and making mistakes at a young age on a public stage is rough. I was lucky I was still in school and then the AHL when I was his age. Guy had it a little harder, leaving his junior year and being hung up on Kitty the whole time. We were happy to let Obi cut loose in more controlled settings like our house parties, where he couldn’t get into trouble. And we always made him stay over so he wouldn’t get in some Uber drama or a drunk driving incident.

Who would have ever guessed that Stelle and I would be the ones to keep a kid out of trouble?

“How’s the shoulder?” Obi asked.

I rotated my arm to test it. “Okay I guess? I don’t know. It still doesn’t feel right, but I don’t think there’s anything specific wrong with it. Might just be the weather making it act up.”

“Old man,” Obi said.

Stelle chuckled. “He called you old.”

“You’re the same age, dickhead!” I scoffed.

“I’m a summer baby. I’m six months younger,” Stelle said with a shrug.

“You should tell PT. We don’t want you out for weeks,” Obi went on.

“How about you focus on what goes on between the pipes and I’ll do the worrying about my shoulder, huh?”

“Sheesh. Somebody’s testy,” Guy said.

“I’m hungover,” I said.

“But didn’t we have fun?” Obi asked with a shove.

I sighed. “Yes. We had fun.”

Suddenly, a knocking rhythm came from next door. Then a moan. Then a very distinct, “Oh, Cole.”

All of our jaws fell open, looking between each other.

“I thought Jessie had to work?” Guy whispered.

But I knew what Jessie sounded like with Cole in that way from hearing it dozens of pathetic times. She didn’t sound like that. That was an entirely different voice.

“I don’t think that’s Jessie,” I said, my stomach twisting.

Obi grimaced. Guy stared at me.

“You’re sure?” Guy asked.

I nodded. “Pretty sure.”

“It doesn’t really sound like her,” Obi said.

“Maybe she took the afternoon off...” Guy suggested.

I just shook my head. Oh, God. Poor Jessie. Did she know?

She was basically a stranger, but it still made my blood boil. How could he do that to her?

* * *

It was about 9 p.m. by the time I settled on my balcony with the ice pack on my shoulder and a drink in my hand. The sliding door on the next balcony over squealed and there she was. Good ol’ Sweet Cheeks was watering her plants with headphones in and itty-bitty shorts on. Did this woman not know how to cover her legs? Christ.

I watched her quietly for a minute, then waved to get her attention. She was either willfully ignoring me or really didn’t see me.

“Jessie,” I said just south of a scream. I didn’t want to shout and scare half our building. I waved emphatically with my un-iced arm. Drips from the ice ran down my bare chest.

Ice. Good idea.

I pulled a piece of ice from my water glass and chucked it over to her balcony. It hit her square in the stomach as she turned. She shrieked, then looked up, ripping out her earbuds.

“Jesus, Jockey, you scared the piss out of me! Why are you throwing things at me?” she demanded.

“Jockey? It’s Mikey or Ben, Sweet Cheeks.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a jock, too, so Jockey.”

I laughed and tipped back my beer bottle. “Clever. I like it.”

“So? Why are you assaulting me with,” she kicked the ice cube on the floor, “ice?”

“I wanted to say hey. And sorry for last night.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I feel bad that we kept you up. I promise it won’t happen again,” I said, trying to be contrite.

She cocked an eyebrow. “You really think I believe you’re going to keep it down from now on? You’ve been loud since I moved in.”

I clenched my jaw. “Like I said last night, I’m not the only one who’s loud.”

“Man, this apology really feels sincere,” she snorted. She went back to tending an orchid with delicate precision.

“Jessica,” I started.

“That’s not my name.”

“Jesserton?”

“If you must know, it’s Jessalyn. Most people call me Jessie.”

“I’m not most people,” I said with a grin. “Jessalyn’s pretty. I might call you that.”

She sighed and turned more fully toward me, crossing her arms. “What do you want, Ben?”

“I feel like we got off on the wrong foot. I’ve seen you around but we haven’t had a chance to ever talk. I want to not have my next-door neighbor hate me. Come have a beer with me.”

“What if I want to hate you? You don’t have to be friendly with your neighbors, you know.”

I shook my head. “Don’t tell my mom. She’d never stand for that. Come on. Come over. Please? I don’t bite.”

“I’ll stay over here, thank you very much.”

“Fine, let me get you a beer then,” I said, shifting to get up.

“Don’t,” she said, annoyed. “You look... injured.” Her eyes traveled over my chest to where the ice bag covered my right shoulder. “I’ll get my own and sit on my own balcony.”

“Whatever you want, Sweet Cheeks,” I said with a smirk.

“Stop calling me that!” She disappeared into her apartment.

See? How was that not banter? Guy was crazy if he thought she didn’t like me. She agreed to have a drink with me.

Jess popped back out on the balcony with a ball of yarn, some knitting needles, and a beer.

“Bud Light Lime? How do you drink that shit?” I scoffed.

“I don’t always feel like buying limes. They can be expensive and they go bad fast,” she shrugged. “What are you having, some snooty IPA?”

“Excuse you, it’s a session pale ale,” I said, putting my pinky up as I took a sip. “You may as well be drinking Mike’s hard lemonade.”

“I’d think you’d like that, since it has your name in it,” she shot. I had to laugh.

“That’s a good one, Jessalyn. Where’s your boyfriend?”

“He’s out at some work thing,” she said breezily. My stomach turned.

“Did you, um, go to work today? Like all day?”

“Yes, despite you goons keeping me up, I still went to work,” she said, totally missing that anything was awry. How the hell do you bring up to someone that their boyfriend is most likely cheating on them? I’d never really done the whole relationship thing, so it really wasn’t my place to say or do anything. I didn’t know how that shit worked. She went on. “I’m surprised you’re not still hungover from last night’s festivities.”

I brought myself back to the conversation. “I had a good sweat this afternoon. That and some healthy eating and I’m good as new.”

“Lucky.”

“What are you knitting?”

Jessie held up the square of fabric she was working on. “It’ll be a baby blanket. I’m a costume apprentice for a show. One of the characters is going to be a grandma, so they asked me to start working on a blanket for her to pretend to knit.”

“Oooh, Hollywood, huh? That’s a long drive, ain’t it?”

“Kinda. Cole wanted to live here to be close to his work, and he makes the money, so here I am. I listen to audiobooks and podcasts on my drive,” she said, her hands deftly weaving the yarn. It was mesmerizing to watch. The knitting needles made a soft clicking sound as she worked the fabric in her fingers.

“Will you make me a hat?” I asked.

A small smile curved her lips. She had a really cute smile, but she’d never shown me her teeth. Just little smirks. “Why, are you cold?”

“I mean, I get cold at work.”

She scrunched her brow. “Wait, is your sport hockey?”

“Now she gets it. I honestly thought you knew since you called me Jockey. Or did you think I race horses?”

“Shut up,” she said. “I thought hockey players were bigger.”

“Ouch!”

“No, I mean, you’re like, huge on the ice.”

“Those are pads, Jessie. So we don’t die every game.”

“Huh. Never really thought about it, I guess. I didn’t grow up with hockey.”

“Oh yeah? Where are you from?” I asked.

“West Virginia.”

“Seriously? My friend’s fiancée is, too. The French guy you talked to last night. Maybe you know each other.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, maybe in my state of a million people, I know this one person.”

She had me there. “Fair. My mom’s from Eastern Kentucky, though, so I know how tight-knit it all is.”

“So you’re a blood Appalachian, huh? Where did you grow up?”

“Detroit.”

“Ah yes. Hence the hockey.”

“Hence the hockey,” I agreed. I loved getting to know more about her, but I was still haunted by what Cole had been doing earlier that day. “So, how long have you and Cole been together?”

“Oh, a while. Since I was in college in Pittsburgh. He was all cool and graduated, a young professional. First we went to New York together. I interned with some fashion houses. Now I’m doing TV since he wanted to be out here.”

Because I was feeling like an armchair psychologist, I dug into that. “Do you want to be out here?”

“I can’t argue with seventy degrees almost year-round,” she said.

“But do you like that?”

Jessie stiffened. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“No, but I want to know you.”

She rolled her eyes and stood, gathering her yarn and beer bottle. “Goodnight, Ben.”

“Wait, wait, I’m not trying to be creepy. I swear. Stay? I like talking to you.”

She looked at me sidelong. “One more chance.”

“Thank you. Sorry. I don’t have many female friends. Just my friends’ girlfriends. Even with them, I don’t really know how to be.”

Jessie got a sly smile and a glint in her eye. “Just used to picking up girls to bring home, huh?”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I said, defending myself.

“I never said there was,” she said, sticking out her bottom lip to prove her innocence.

“What’s it like being in a relationship?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“I don’t know. What’s it like fucking random girls all the time?”

I took a drag on my beer as she eyed me for an answer.

“I’m being serious,” I said. “Does it get stale?”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Fuck, what did I mean? Obviously, Cole thought it was stale if he was stepping out on Jessie. Christ, I’d really boxed myself in.

“I mean, don’t you hate fucking the same guy all the time?”

“I don’t hate it,” she said quietly. “In a lot of ways, you build trust over time. That’s nice.”

I felt sick again, thinking of how her trust was so misplaced. “Yeah. I’ve always wanted that. The trust thing.”

“What’s holding you back?” Jessie looked up from her knitting.

“Maybe haven’t found the right person,” I said. “Maybe I just don’t know how to do it.”

“Maybe you’re emotionally unavailable,” she suggested.

“What? I’m an open book,” I argued.

“Sure. But you put on a big cocky front. If that’s who you are, fine, but if it’s not, you’re selling yourself short. I think you’re more introspective than you give yourself credit for. You’ve been asking me some thoughtful questions.”

“Wait a minute. I was trying to psychoanalyze you, not the other way around,” I said.

“See? This conversation was already too intimate for you. It’s just the surface.”

I took a deep breath. “How are you cutting me down so quickly, Jessalyn... ?” I wanted her to tell me her last name.

“Welsh.”

“How are you cutting me down so quickly, Jessalyn Welsh?”

She smirked again. “I talk to people a lot when I’m at work. I prefer to go beyond the weather. People tell me about their lives, and I listen.”

“I’m impressed, Sweet Cheeks.”

Her eyes shot up from her knitting. “Call me by my name or I go inside.”

“Sorry. I’m impressed, Jessalyn.”

“Better.”

I took a sip of my beer, trying to figure out what to talk about next. “So how long has it been since Cole gave you a real orgasm?”

Her jaw fell open. “And that’s my cue to leave,” she said, gathering her stuff.

“So I have to be intimate for you, but you can’t return the favor? That’s not how friendships work.”

“I never said I wanted to be friends,” she huffed.

And with that, her sliding door closed.