Page 15

I put a hand over my obnoxious mouth. He scared the fuck out of me. Like I said, I’m used to gray eyes, not these bright vivid blue eyes that are staring straight into my soul. I feel like I can see his soul. And it’s scary!

Well, right now, they’re darkening. It must be from the pure shock from my loud scream. But why is he so close to me? I can feel the heat of his fingertips that just touched my hair. It tickled my forehead, and I thought it was a spider crawling on my face. But nope, it’s just Greyson making a sweet gesture. I would have never thought he’d ever do a sweet gesture for a thousand lifetimes. I take a deep breath. My nerves are crawling around my entire body right now under his gaze. His sharp blueish gaze. Sure, I like this Greyson, but I’ve been flirting with him nonstop this entire drive and that’s probably not okay – given the way he’s looking at me right now. He’s searching my face, and I’m pretty sure he would kiss me if I wasn’t some fake girlfriend that he had to deal with. He licks his lips, and his eyes soften. Oh, yeah. The player in him would definitely kiss me right now.

“Why are you screaming?” he whispers.

My heart races all at once, even in places I don’t want to admit. “Because,” I begin to explain, looking around. A spider. I need to break his soul-shattering eye contact, or maybe I’ll be the one to kiss him . When I look to my right, I realize we’re parked at his house. “Oh, good. We’re home.”

“Are you alright?” he asks. “Do you need a minute?”

I force my lips together and nod without looking at him again. “Oh, I need more than that,” I admit with a shiver overtaking my entire body. Why is he giving me goosebumps? “Dibs on the bathroom,” I call out and race out of the car to get far away from him.

I’m stomping away into the house to shake this shiver. It makes the air feel ten times colder than it is. It’s my personal wind chill advisor. It’s 35 degrees out, but with Madison Wilder’s wind chill from Greyson Cress, it feels like 10 degrees.

No, this is bad. This feeling sitting in my chest is so bad. I cannot want someone like Grey. But didn’t he say tonight that he wouldn’t break my heart? Stop it, Maddie. Stop it. This is all fake.

I open the door to the house and Ace is in the kitchen. He turns his head, watching me.

“Oh, you beat us home?” I say, practically running through the house.

“Where’s Grey?” he asks, not acknowledging my statement.

“I really need to pee,” I say, ignoring his question as I dart past the kitchen.

I think I’ve convinced myself enough to believe I might pee my pants, but when I sit on the toilet, my throbbing vagina is not screaming to let urine out – it’s pulsing for a whole other reason. After I pee, the feeling is still there.

I press my finger against myself just to trial and error what’s happening to me. When it feels like my body could start convulsing, I release the pressure and sit for a moment. What has gotten into me? I’m into Grey? No, this can’t be. Sure, he’s good looking but I would never date someone like him. He’s too brooding, too hard, too impossible. I need nice, easy-going, and funny.

I step out of the bathroom and into the bedroom where Grey is staring at the poster I made. He has it on top of his dresser, leaning against the window.

“I’m pucking Grey,” he says without turning to me. “It has a nice ring to it.”

Oh, yeah. It’s the shadow of his shoulders, the tone of his voice, and his beautiful hair. Why does his hair look so good out of his hockey helmet? It’s making my throb throbby. Is that even possible? Because it’s happening to me.

Act normal.

“Yeah,” I stand next to him since he’s on my side of the bed. “You know some girls have made it their mission to puck you, but not me.”

Oh my god. Why did I just say that?

He laughs, and I turn to him to witness this rare sighting. His hair is tousled — it looks inviting to my fingers. And he throws his head back, in full flattered mode, as he platonically pats my shoulder. I freeze, lost in under his palm. Those big hands that are so good with that hockey stick are touching me .

“I need to shower,” I blurt, turning around to cut him off before he can walk ahead. He grips my shoulder now, causing me to freeze again. I look up at his blue eyes while he tears off his shirt. My heart is banging against my chest like a freaking drum. I don’t dare to look down at his body even though I’m hella attempted to get a glimpse of him this close.

He says with his paw still on my shoulder, “I was just about to shower.”

“But,” I’m breathless like a buffoon.

He walks around the bed, pointing at my handmade poster board. “Now I understand why your brother wanted to kill me.” We lock eyes across the room, and then he glances down at my body. What is he looking at? So, I look down to see if anything is out of place. I’m just a 21-year-old in a hockey jersey and high socks. I think my bones are shaking. He is looking at me differently, I swear. I look up at the bedroom light to figure out if it’s just the way the lighting is hitting his face. He looks up too and then makes an expression at me. I mimic the face, holding my breath until he shuts the bathroom door.

I turn back to the poster wondering why I thought the quote was funny enough to put it on a poster board and bring it to his game.

My brother wanting to kill him is comical. Ryan is wild on the ice but he’s not at all scary. He is the biggest pushover ever. Ask his best friend, Addison, and she’ll tell anyone. We laugh about it all the time.

Now, I’m zoning out at the word on the poster. Pucking . It makes my pelvis clench even more. And the direct word after is Grey, and that turns me on. This poster needs to be thrown into the trash, shredded to a thousand pieces, and never see the light of day. I know Greyson will walk out of that bathroom without any clothes on, so I decide to leave the room to trash it. I don’t think my eyes can handle being around him right now. My eyes or my vagina . I’m dying to see his V-line, and it’s really none of my business how muscular he is under his jersey, but I’m imagining it from my memory. He is so hot.

I hear Ace say, “No, he’s not gonna come out tonight.”

Knox peeks his head around the corner. “Grey? Oh, it’s Madison.”

“Hi,” I mutter, embarrassed by this stupid poster I’m holding, as I walk into the kitchen. They are dressed like they’re going out, so I ask, “Where are you guys going?” I need the attention off of the huge poster in my hands.

Ace hits Knox in the chest before Knox can say a word. Ace glances away from me. “Where’s Grey?” he asks. I take a step back, trying to crumple the poster but it’s not working. The paper is too thick.

“Oh, uh… he’s in the shower.” Stop imagining him in the shower . I smile at them to distract my brain.

Grey cuts the corner in a towel and my eyes widen, taking in his body wrapped in a towel. I glance at his V-line and then my eyes take their time as I observe his body because he’s ignoring me and talking to his buddies. That was the fastest shower known to mankind. How long was I zoning out on the poster? He’s talking to the guys about who knows what. Right now, I’m transfixed on the Grey effect that has completely taken over my mind. I need to actually get out of here. I take a step towards his bedroom on a mission.

“Yeah, Maddie?” Grey says, snapping me back to reality.

I look at Knox and Ace, utterly out of the loop. I nod anyway, agreeing to whatever he said. Then Grey puts an arm around my shoulder and continues talking.

Oh, the guys are going to notice how uncomfortable I am. I need to improvise, so I place my hand on his stomach and smile. Greyson sucks in a breath under my palm. Happy couple — I smile at Knox who is questioning me with his expression. These abs are made of steel, so I start rubbing them as Ace continues to say something about the game. I nod at Ace as I circle my hands on his stomach.

Bump. Bump. Bump.

Happy couple.

I laugh at something Ace says and his eyes cut to me in confusion.

“What are you doing?” Grey whispers to me. I shake my head, feeling his abs flex. I smile at Knox again as I grip Grey’s abs. God, why are they are so hard? Ace’s eyes look down at Greyson’s abs, and he awkwardly meets my gaze. I smile back at him.

We are a thriving couple who have sex.

I slide my hands back and forth as Grey chuckles.

Knox starts talking, and Ace backhands him in the chest.

Knox stumbles on his words, “Oh, okay. We’ll drink for you. And you.”

Grey tightens his arm around me, probably to get me to stop rubbing his stomach. Now I’m pressed against his extremely hard body, and I don’t know what to do with my hands. He pulls me in front of him and wraps his arms around my neck. I feel a hard bulge against my butt.

Shit, did I do that? Am I responsible for his hard-on?

Greyson peeks over my shoulder as I hide the embarrassing poster from the guys. Grey slowly walks backward as Knox and Ace stare at his face. He must be mouthing something because they nod before we cut the corner.

“In the room,” he demands to me, and I listen because I definitely cannot handle his hard bulge against my butt any longer. The intense Greyson is back as soon as he shuts the bedroom door. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Me?” I argue, staring into his blue eyes. God, they’re still blue.

“That’s my poster.”

I try to crumple it, but he pulls it from my hands and places it back on the dresser.

I sputter, “I think I’m getting rid of any evidence that makes people think we’re pucking .”

“Why?” he dares to ask, and I’m frazzled.

“Well, uh – because it’s embarrassing.” I nod at him. Maybe that’s enough to convince him to let me throw it away.

“You’re embarrassed of me?” he asks.

I shake my head rapidly. Oh, no. Shit. “No, I mean the poster. I’m talking about the poster. I didn’t mean it in the other way, you know like I’m embarrassed to be pucking you… well… because look at you. I mean… not that I’m looking at you. Just in a platonic fake way, like if a friend wanted to puck you, I would say, ‘Hey, I don’t see why you wouldn’t want to. Look at him.’” I stare at him as my nerves make me tremble. But I don’t stop there. “But again, I’m not really looking looking at you. This is all fake. It’s a show for my ex, you know? To make him jealous. It’s not an embarrassment if people think we sleep together. But that poster,” I point at it. “Is embarrassing, and you need to let me throw it away.”

He’s staring at me, speechless. And my nerves are now getting the best of me, shaking me to my core. “And you need to start wearing clothes.” I gulp, looking at his V-line. It is hot. His towel is hanging awfully low too, and I can only imagine what’s hiding under there. My pelvis clenches. “Because, god damn it, Greyson, have you ever heard of modesty? It’s not okay to walk around half naked. If you can’t keep a shirt on, I will clothe you myself. I will make sure that I never see an inch of your body again. I’ll tape it on you and put a lock on it if I have to.” His expression changes as I point at the poster. “That poster is not yours! I don’t need some weird reminder about tonight being a turning point after my horrible breakup… the drive was the most fun I’ve had with anyone in a while, and it was with you. Which is so surprising by the way because you’re never fun. But maybe because you won your game tonight, your mood lightened and you opened up to me. And you’re not as bad as I thought. And I think that’s what’s eating at me because why didn’t I see this side to you before? And this stupid poster makes me feel like I’m one of your puck bunnies and that’s embarrassing. A puck bunny is someone who just sleeps with someone on the team, right? I mean, I guess I fit the criteria.” Someone please shut me up. “Because we are sleeping together, aren’t we?” I point at the bed, flustered. “Just take a picture of the poster, it’ll last longer.”

His eyes are staring directly into my soul right now. He still hasn’t said anything. And then his expression changes. “Are you okay?” he asks, concerned.

I shake my head because I’m not done. “I don’t know why I thought it would be a good idea to surprise you at your game. I could tell my over-the-top girlfriend screaming distracted you for a minute. And then you morphed into a gentleman and asked your coach to drive with me? After he told you to stay away from me? You were flirting with me the entire drive, and I’ve never seen your eyes so blue before! They’re normally gray, Greyson, and I have no idea if they’re blue because of me or because you won your game.” I stare at the bed. “I don’t know when I’m going to shut up.”

He slowly puts clothes on with a smirk.

“Do you have anything to say?” I ask, feeling like he should’ve interrupted me a while ago to stop my rambling. I’m mortified that I’m going off like this.

“Are you always like this?” He smiles at me. I don’t like the cockiness in his tone.

“Normally, no. Do I talk a lot? Yes. But the rambling happens when I’m nervous.”

Oh, God. I just admitted I’m nervous. Will someone please put a piece of tape over my mouth? He stands tall as he says, “It’s late. Do you want to go to bed?”

I blink a few times at him. That’s it? “Did you hear anything that I said?”

“I heard you, but what can I say?”

“I don’t know. You just want to go to bed? You’re tired right now?”

He runs a hand in his hair.

“Oh my god,” I blush. “I’m starting to sound like a needy girlfriend. I promise I’m not. I forgot how exhausting games are, and your roommates are going out. Wouldn’t you normally be going out with them? I never took you for the lights out early type of guy. Oh my god, I’m sorry. You can go to sleep. Or go out with them. I’ll be fine either way.”

“Do you want to go sleep?” he asks, getting into bed.

I watch him as my heart races. I didn’t think I would ever get to a point of thinking that I actually like Greyson, so this uncharted territory is freaking me out. His blank stare makes me so nervous.

“Maybe it’ll help,” I say, cautiously getting into my side of the bed. He turns off the lights and I feel the bed shift on his side. I’m frozen, almost scared that he hasn’t said anything to me. Now, I’m overthinking in this darkness.

A few minutes pass as my mind replays our road trip together. Greyson is rather sweet when he wants to be.

I hate that I’ve seen this side to him.