5. CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER FIVE
5
Istroll into the office the next morning with my coffee, ready to tackle the day. The familiar buzz of activity greets me as I settle into my desk, flipping open my laptop and checking my messages on social and emails.
As a social media influencer and blogger for an online company, I write about budgets and self-care and help personalize people's schedules to fit everything into their daily lives. It's my passion to help busy women take care of themselves amidst chores, work, and children. I’m also bringing on new ideas to ensure my girls are financially and mentally stable.
“Hey girl,” my work bestie greets me as I get to my desk. “What did you bring me?”
“A midnight mocha with two extra vanilla pumps, three caramel syrup pumps, and your disgusting dark chocolate.”
I place the bougie Starbucks drink next to her laptop, and she beams at it.
“Ohhhh, my God.” She picks up the white cup lovingly and stares longingly at it. “We meet again, my love. How are you?”
I smile and roll my eyes, getting to my desk directly in front of hers. The office space is set up casually and open, with no walls, even though it can sometimes be distracting.
“Soooo…I heard about the game.”
I flick my attention up to Chloe, her beautiful wavy blonde hair draped over her shoulders. She was dressed to the nines like always, in a cute pink dress and a full face of makeup. “What do you mean?”
“The Blizzard game. Judson…Wells?”
No.
Is there a story pending already?
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“What are you talking about?” I ask innocently before Chloe narrows her blue eyes at me.
“Girl…” She perks a knowing brow. “Don’t play with me…you’ve done this before. You and your hockey boyfriends?”
I pull my laptop out of my large bag and use it to keep her from seeing the guilt in my gaze. “I’m not doing anything.”
I glower at her.
“Oh, so you weren’t doing anything when you were doing…hmm…what was his name, again? The other hockey guy?”
“I know who he is.”
“Ah, yes, James, was it?”
Chloe smirks, knowing she has me cornered, and I don’t like it. “So, spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill.”
“You know this guy?”
“Briefly.”
“How?”
“My father coaches a hockey team, and I love hockey,” I deadpan with a shrug. I have nothing else to spill.”
“He’s from your father’s rival team. At least James was on your dad’s team.”
Okay, so she’s been doing her homework.
Which isn’t surprising because that’s what we do here.
"I saw the article. The dude plastered his phone number on the glass at the end of the game. Are you seriously going to pretend it's nothing?"
My heart races, and I grip the edge of my desk, trying to appear nonchalant.
“I am because it isn’t.”
“I’ve never seen a dude do that unless something else is happening.”
I bite my lip, trying to come up with a plausible excuse. "Maybe he was just being friendly. You know how guys can be. Plus, Wells is a well-known playboy and troublemaker. He was, more than likely, trying to piss off my dad. And it worked.”
“Damn,” she mutters. “He’s good.”
He was.
Especially in bed, my God.
“He is,” I agree. “They won the game, and my father will work his team to death to beat them.”
“When is that?”
“No clue,” I lie, knowing very well the game is tonight. I open my Instagram account to check all my comments and respond to some of them.
“Things are good then, with James?” she asks.
I glance up at her again, and for the last time, I’m tired of talking about this.
I inwardly groan. “Yeah.”
“Alright,” Chloe concludes. “Thank you for my lover.”
Shaking my head at her love affair for bougie coffee drinks, I notice a few DMs and check those first.
Then I notice Judson Wells’ name tucked between a few messages, which practically blinds me.
My breathing instantly stops, and I gape at his name. I begin to break a sweat immediately.
What in the world is he doing?
Not only that, but why?
You’d think that, under our circumstances, we’d both be on the same page about this—that it is a no-no to the highest extreme.
Yet, there’s no harm in opening up a message, right?
WELLS: You’re a hard woman to find. I had to search the Internet for you, and it was a process. But thanks to your articles, I learned the difference between serums and oils.
I roll my eyes because, even if he’s being a smartass, I’m proud of my work.
RORY: What are you doing, Killer?
WELLS: Thankfully, speaking to you, Snowflake. How are you?
RORY: Confused.
WELLS: Why?
RORY: I’m still waiting for an explanation for why you’re stalking me.
WELLS: I thought maybe the other night would be a good clue.
WELLS: However, I don’t mind clarifying that you’ve been on my mind.
Yeah, this is exactly the textbook definition of trouble.
I’m a dabbler in it myself. I’ve pushed boundaries and rules for fun. However, some of them have almost landed me into some crap, and I don’t need my father losing his mind over more than he already does.
RORY: You know this isn’t going to end well.
WELLS: It ended well the last time. You came twice.
God.
I am so happy he is not standing in front of me because my cheeks instantly heat. And, of course, I have Nancy Drew sitting in front of me.
RORY: The record is four.
WELLS: I'm good at beating records. When can I see you again?
RORY: You can’t.
WELLS: Curfew? Boyfriend? I didn’t see one.
RORY: Morals.
WELLS: I wouldn’t know anything about those. Do you have an article that I can read?
I bark out in laughter and gain Chloe's immediate attention.
“What are you over there cackling about?” she asks with amusement. “Did some girl say she used a skin product in her vagina again?”
“No,” I reply. “Just saw a funny meme.”
RORY: Google it.
WELLS: I’m having fun right here. I can’t tell you how happy I was to see you again. You’re all sorts of trouble that I have a hard time resisting.
RORY: Which is why you should do it. You don’t need any more bad press.
WELLS: I wouldn’t call it bad. It gets me more fans.
Of the women variety, I’m sure.
However, that’s none of my business. The man is a freaking billboard of sexy. It’d be hard for a female to resist not looking at him.
RORY: Then bother one of them.
WELLS: You’re not a fan?
RORY: Did you see me with a Wolverine’s t-shirt on last night?
WELLS: I’d like to change that.
RORY: I have no doubt that you would. And I’m sure that would make your dick hard.
WELLS: You have no idea.
RORY: Go practice. Don’t you have a game tonight?
WELLS: I’m eating. And, yes, I do. Will you be watching?
RORY: I won’t be, but good luck. And go away.
WELLS: Listen, I know this is a slippery slope. I got reamed for it last night. However, I’m not one to give up that easily, and I think you’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
RORY: That’s nice.
WELLS: Is that you being sarcastic or flattered?
RORY: Flattered. But I still think it’s best that you go away.
WELLS: When do I get to see you again?
RORY: You don’t. I’m busy, and our lives don’t intertwine like that, especially since my father can’t stand you.
WELLS: I wasn’t trying to flirt with him.
RORY: I know you know what you’re doing.
WELLS: I definitely do. And I’m trying to see you again.
RORY: I need to get to work.
WELLS: Alright. I’ll go for now. But don’t block me.
I didn’t think about blocking, but that’s not a bad idea.
Honestly, I don’t want to be mean to him, but I know the kind of guy Wells is.
Persistent. Not a follower of rules.
A rebel.
RORY: Bye, Wells. Good luck with your game.
WELLS: Thanks, baby. I’ll win it for you.
Trouble.
Trouble.
Trouble.
And then I block him.