Page 7

Surprise!!!

Adrian

“ A ll right. Up you go. I think you’ve had just a little too much to drink.” I half lift, half support Guy as we make our way toward the exit. I wave goodbye to a few of my teammates, who give me several loud catcalls.

Guy stumbles out the door, and I catch him easily.

“God, you’re so strong.” His hands grip my biceps. “You know, I’ve always wanted to be with a hockey player. Why don’t you take me to bed, and we can make each other’s fantasies come true?”

I only met Guy last semester when he showed up at the rink after practice. Every once in a while, he’ll hit on me, but it’s mostly been harmless. Of course, he would have to make a move on me tonight of all nights.

“Sorry, Guy. Not gonna happen. I’m going to be a gentleman and bring you back to your place, where you can sleep things off.” I guide him to my car and help him into his seat. Once he’s sitting, I reach over and click his seatbelt into place. I can’t quite trust the drunk guy to buckle up.

“Thanks, Daddy.” Guy leans forward for a kiss, but I dodge him easily and jog around to the driver’s side.

“Go ahead and plug in your address,” I say, handing him my phone.

Guy pouts. “You’re no fun.”

Irritated, I start up my car and begin driving. Something about the address or street name niggles at the back of my head, but I don’t think anything about it as I follow my phone’s directions. Instead, over the next several minutes, my mind swirls around with memories of tonight’s events.

I can’t believe Guy kissed me in front of my childhood crush. Or that he just called me Daddy. Although that’s probably my fault, because buckling Guy in was a total Daddy move.

I sigh.

I would kill for someone to do sweet Daddy-like things for me—like click my seatbelt in place, wrap me up in his strong arms, or just look after my well-being.

There’s something so hot about the idea of a dominant man taking care of me.

Not just from a sexual perspective, but damn, I also wouldn’t mind calling someone Daddy while he dishes out a little ‘ funishment .’

Images of Theo come to mind.

It can’t just be me, but I’m pretty sure that all that fun banter and flirtatious chemistry has to mean we might have something.

Right? I’ve always considered myself secretly submissive, but I’m shocked by how easily we seemed to have fallen into that dynamic.

He brought out the flirty brat in me, and I’m pretty sure he liked it.

“Oh, uh, this is me. Thanks for bringing me home.”

I park my car in the driveway and give him a curt smile. “No problem.” I glance up at the cute suburban house with its white shutters and light blue paint. God, why does this house look so damn familiar?

Guy unbuckles his seatbelt and pushes the passenger door open. At the last second, he turns and looks at me. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Every week I hit on you, and every week you turn me down. Am I not attractive enough for you?”

My heart goes out to him. I shake my head.

He’s a total cutie, but something about him reminds me of my little brother Felix.

I actually don’t know anything about Guy.

“You’re very attractive, Guy. I’m just looking for something…

particular,” I say, for lack of a better word.

No way am I confessing to a near stranger that I’m looking for someone more dominant.

People never understand. All they see are my muscles and build, and they assume.

All my previous boyfriends and hook-ups assumed I was a top.

And all of them were disappointed when they found out I wasn’t.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t mind topping, but I was always the one expected to change myself for them.

No one ever bothered to look after me. No one catered to my wants or needs, even when I asked.

Ideally, I’d love to have a Daddy. The kink has always appealed to me, but other than a few secret interactions at my favorite club, no one has ever been willing to try. And no one has ever bothered to stay.

“It’s the new bartender, isn’t it?” Guy asks.

“Hmm?”

“He’s the ‘ something particular .’ It’s because you like older guys, right?”

I’m not entirely sure how to explain it.

I couldn’t care less about someone’s age.

It’s more about the vibes or their personality.

Theo projects an aura of self-assurance and power.

It’s that commanding presence that I find attractive, not how old he is.

Theo might not be a Daddy, but I’ve seen so many interviews with him in the past that it’s easy to imagine.

He totally has that energy about him. Figuring it’s easier to just nod my head rather than explain my chaotic thoughts about my crush, I do just that.

Guy sighs. For a long moment, we just sit there deep in thought.

“Adrian?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t feel so good.” He gags. “Can you help me to my front door?”

I wince. “Of course. I’m so sorry. I should have offered.” Getting out of my car and rushing over to Guy’s side, I wrap an arm around his waist, and he wraps his around my neck. “You have your keys?”

Guy pats his pockets as we stumble across his lawn. When we finally make it to the front porch, Guy turns pale. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he says, still desperately patting at his pockets. “I don’t have my key.”

“Do you have a roommate? Maybe I can knock.”

Guy groans. “Oh, God. Dad’s going to kill me.”

My mouth falls open. “I’m sorry, what? Did you just say your dad?”

Before I can fully finish the sentence, the front door is being yanked open.

To my utter and complete horror, Coach Wilson is standing there, and he looks pissed.

I’ve seen Coach with various facial expressions over the last four years.

Anywhere from ticked off, to irritated, and what I originally thought was the worst: disappointed.

But staring at him now, with his face a deep shade of red and his observant eyes taking in the situation, I can honestly say, I’ve never seen him this angry.

“Uh, Coach? Wha—what are you doing here?”

“DeLuca.” Coach grinds his teeth and flexes his jaw. “Would you care to explain why you have your meaty fucking arm around my son?”

Oh fuck. I swear my knees go weak. I’m pretty sure Coach is going to punch me.

“Dad,” Guy says weakly. “It’s not Adrian’s fault.”

“I’m so sorry, sir. Guy had a little too much to drink,” I reply, stating the obvious. “I just wanted to make sure he got home safe. I was trying to do the right thing.”

I’m hoping the last two sentences will calm Coach down enough to let me escape, but for some reason, Coach Wilson’s face turns a deeper shade of red.

“DeLuca, I need you to explain why getting my eighteen-year-old son drunk to the point of immobility is considered the right thing to do.”

“Eighteen?” I gasp, reaching for Guy’s wristband under the sleeve of his jacket. “You told me you were twenty-one.”

Guy winces, leaning harder against me, still unable to hold himself up.

Coach’s eyes snap to the wristband, and he sighs. “Guy, give me your fake ID. Now.”

Of course, Guy would have a fake ID, he wouldn’t have been able to drink at the bar without a wristband.

Fishing through his wallet while I hold the poor kid up, he finally passes the piece of plastic to his dad.

Coach wraps his arm around his son and takes him from my arms. With a pout, Guy rolls his eyes and gives me a little wave.

Fuck. He looks so damn young. How did I not realize the kid was barely an adult? Coach shuffles his son through the front door, and I offer to help, but Coach shrugs me off. Instead, I just stand there awkwardly, waiting for Coach to say something.

“My office. Ten a.m. Monday.”

Internally, I groan. Monday morning, I have a finance quiz across campus. Even if I sprinted from class the second it ended, I would likely still be late for our meeting. “But sir…”

“I said ten a.m., DeLuca.” And with that, Coach holds up his son and kicks the front door closed, slamming it in my face.

Fuck. Coach is going to take this out on my ass during practice, if he doesn’t kill me first.

Monday morning, with the sun barely risen, I skip the early morning free skate and head over to the library to study for my exam.

I spend my time flipping through flashcards and taking the practice test online.

Once I feel confident enough, I figure that’s as much cramming as I’m able to do.

I walk across campus to my favorite coffee shop.

I always love to treat myself to a mocha for good luck if I have time.

Even this early in the morning, the college is buzzing with students chatting and walking to class.

Stunning brick buildings nestled amongst lush green trees showcase Brynn U’s beautiful, modern architecture.

Every once in a while, the sight of the impressive campus catches me off guard, and today is one of those days.

Ever since I was a teen, I imagined what it would be like to attend this school. Brynn U might be in my hometown, but the school is like its own mini village, complete with on-campus housing, restaurants, and shops.

After all those years of wishing, I’m finally here, chasing my dreams and making them a reality. It’s moments like this I think of Mom and Dad, knowing they’d be damn proud.

“Hey there, Adrian,” the barista greets as soon as I enter Keeper’s Brew.

Recognizing the girl from last semester’s accounting class, I give her a little wave.

She’s in her early twenties, like me, and loves hockey.

Unlike the puck bunnies I usually have to dodge, Sandy has a real love for the sport, and I remember chatting about the games with her before class.

“Hey Sandy, can I get an iced mocha for the road? I have an exam coming up in Professor Higgens’ class soon.”

“Oh, crap.” She nods as she rings me up and takes my money. “I have to take that quiz tomorrow. How do you feel about it?”