6. Levi
CHAPTER 6
LEVI
I’m starting to think that maybe I need to get my head checked or something because lately my decisions have been nothing but questionable. I mean, who in his right mind would think it’s a good fucking idea to fake date his ex’s little sister.
Definitely not me. Funny how clear things are after the fact.
I have a hard time watching someone I care about struggle, and regardless of how much Quinn pisses me off, I don’t like to watch other people fuck with her.
That’s my job.
It was even worse watching her sister—her actual sister—talking down to her with such cruelty. The second I heard Ally making fun of Quinn, I snapped, all thoughts of why it would be a bad idea to fake date her fleeing from my mind. In that second, the only thing I cared about was protecting Quinn the only way I know how, the benefit of course being that I got to see the anger on both Ally’s and her uncle's faces.
Karma, motherfucker.
Come back to the city I love, the team I love, and try to make waves? Fuck that.
If he wants to make waves, I’ll be grabbing my fucking surfboard.
We had a stare down with Coach and Ally, which ended in the latter throwing a mini tantrum and glaring at us before leaving in a huff.
It's a shame she has such an attitude because she used to be such a cool girl.
The four of us stood in the training room in complete silence until, finally, Ally stomped her foot and hurried off, her uncle following suit. Well, not before he promised me that he’d be in touch soon, but I wouldn’t expect anything different.
The man hates me, and it’s all misguided. Well, most of it. Some of it is just because I’m a pain in the ass who likes to get in fights every now and then, and that pissed him off when he coached me. That all aside though, I just don’t have the heart to tell him his niece is a liar and treated me like shit when I know that man adores his family. It’s just frustrating seeing the way he treats Quinn versus the way he treats Ally, especially because I don’t think he means it the way it comes across.
Coach adores his nieces, both of them, but Ally…she just always needs more of his attention. It’s been like that since I’ve known them. She’s not as driven, or at least isn’t as sure of the path that she wants to take, and it makes her seem less put together, more fragile than Quinn, and I think he treats them as such.
Quinn, on the other hand, knows exactly what she wants to do with her life, and she knows what she needs to do to get there. I mean, what twenty-four-year-old gets a job as an athletic trainer with the NHL in her first year out of college?
I mean, people can obviously make the argument that with her uncle being the new coach, that’s the only reason she would’ve gotten the job, but those people don’t know her. I’m sure her uncle had a part in her name being considered, but I know her work ethic and intelligence are the reasons she got the job. Her uncle is an ass to her, always has been, but it’s only because he pushes her, and he knows she can be something incredible and wants the best for her.
I just wish he’d go about it a little more tactfully, for both of his nieces, but that’s outside my paygrade.
I tried to talk to Quinn about everything a little bit after they left us alone, but she told me that it was time for her to do her job, and she asked me to respect that and be professional. I may be pushy, but I’m not a dick. I understand the importance of boundaries and would never want to jeopardize her job. That’s why, after she kicked me out of our appointment, I emailed HR on the drive home to let them know I had something to discuss with them. I'll let Quinn know before I do it, but if this is actually happening, I'm not going to let politics or stupid rules get in the way of seeing this situation through.
After Quinn asked me the other night, I ended up looking into the details of what could happen if we tried this on the off chance she was right. I’m glad I did, though, because it came in handy. After going over everything, I found out that relationships lasting longer than nine months prior to time of hire, and where there’s no supervisory role over your significant other, were allowed according to our contract.
I also researched her contract, and it was the exact same wording. It will obviously take some communication, but thankfully I have a friend who was visiting Nashville just over a year ago and can vouch for me and Quinn if it comes down to it. Shooting Miles a text, I let him know I’m probably going to need his help confirming that someone saw Quinn and me, together, a year ago. I mean, it’s not a lie; it’s just a whole lot more complicated and fucked up than it sounds.
Before I close out of my phone and head inside my house, I send Quinn one more text telling her to call me, another one I'm sure she'll leave on read. It's like she doesn't remember that if she wants to play hide and seek with me, all she has to do is say the word.
Leaving my stuff in the car for now, I head inside, grab a protein drink and a water, then throw on my headset and fire up my PS5. I log into the game and join Asher’s party on Call of Duty .
It’s become sort of our ritual, at least a few times a week. It’s something we can all do that’s not hockey. Look, we love hockey, and I don’t want to speak for everyone…but damn, sometimes it’s nice to do something different.
At least this way, we all get to be home, relaxed, and still hang out. When I moved into my own house here in Nashville, I knew I wanted a nice game room that could also double as a movie room. I love sitting back, relaxing, and binge-watching movies until I feel like I’m one with the couch.
It’s a whole vibe in here, with color-changing mood lights, big, extra-wide recliners, and an eighty-five-inch TV that’s my pride and joy. It doesn’t matter if I’m playing, watching a movie, or taking a nap, I’m usually camped out in this room if I’m not in bed.
After the first round of our game and a quick water break, I told the guys about what happened today when I went to go see Quinn…as well as what happened at the bar the other night. They all laughed their asses off, but none of them were surprised. Well, Asher and Cooper were both surprised that I told her no in the first place, but they are also the two who know the most about Quinn and me.
All of my friends know I was engaged to Ally and that it was a mess, but for a while, that's all I told them—well, except for Asher. Asher is my ride or die; he went through the ringer with me when we were growing up. I keep expecting him to bail out on me, to finally decide I'm too much trouble for my worth, but somehow, he's still here.
He found it the most entertaining about Quinn and me, immediately texting me on the side.
Asher: So you're dating baby sis now? And you couldn’t even tell me she was off-limits?
Levi: Fuck off.
Asher: Did you detect a lie in my statement?
Levi: A lie? No. But I don't think it's necessary to bring up the family matters. She’s been off-limits regardless.
Asher: Aww, I was hoping she’d call me daddy too.
Levi:
He’s fucking lucky I love him, or the next time we get on the ice together, I’d have my fist against his face. We spend the next hour playing another round while bullshitting about the rest of the changes we learned about today, including the meeting we had with Coach right after his pep talk to the full staff and team before we all get offline.
It’s hard because I want to hate the man outright for the way he treats me, but I know he’s doing it because he thinks I fucked with someone he cares about. It’s a weird position to be in, so I just try to keep the peace as much as possible.
That is until he fucks with my place here in Nashville.
All it took was him mentioning it to me once today as I made my way to the locker room to grab something from my bag before I went to find Quinn. He made sure I knew he was the one in charge, and if I couldn’t follow his directions, then he would make sure I was on the first plane out of here.
I bit my tongue before walking away. At that point, I was already starting to change my mind, but it was solidified after overhearing Ally.
See, I’m a nice guy, even if Coach already mentioned that I can’t get in fights anymore. It’s not my fault I have a low threshold for bullshit and even less patience for people who are just mean.
Grabbing my phone, I check it again, and after seeing that I still don’t have a text back from Quinn, I say fuck it and dial her number.
I’ve never been the type of person to send just one text message or make a single call and then sit patiently waiting for a response. Nope, I’ll send a text based on a thought I had, and then an hour later, another thought pops into my head, and I’ll message again—whether you’ve replied or not.
Some call it overbearing, possessive, maybe even a little stage-five clingerish.
I call it me.
Plus, you can ask my nana—I'm known for saying fuck the rules and doing things my way. Life’s too short not to be happy. But this phone call pisses me off because she immediately sends me to voicemail. So I call her again.
Quinn: Stop calling me.
Me: I would if you would just answer.
Quinn: Take a hint.
Me: The only hints I take are from your body language, your moans, and the way your breathing changes as I build up your climax. All other things are irrelevant.
Quinn: What do you want?
Me: Meet me for a drink.
Quinn: No. You don't want to do this, and that's fine.
Me: Damn it, Quinn. This is ridiculous. You asked me to show up, and I was there without question. I ask and you're screening my calls like we're back in high school.”
Dots. No dots. Dots. Not dots.
Quinn: Terrance Hotel. The bar, 8 p.m.
Me: See you there, girlfriend.
* * *
Do you want to know what goes well with a stressful day? Whiskey.
An extremely stressful day? That requires lots of whiskey. Or whiskey and pussy, but that seems to be out of the question based on recent events.
The water might be a bit too murky for Quinn and me to enjoy that aspect of our friendship, even if she is easily the best fuck of my life.
I arrived at the hotel about fifteen minutes ago and waited out front for Quinn until it was close to eight. When it seemed like she might be running late, I decided to head inside and grab a table before it got too crowded. To my surprise, she was already sitting in a booth, drink in hand, and—thankfully—had another one waiting for me on the table.
As I walk over to her, I pass a table of guys I recognize from high school, two of them playing in the NHL as well—for the team in Knoxville.
This may be a hotel bar, but it’s pretty popular for a night out, even to locals. I wave as I pass by, but quickly look away, leaving no room for conversation. Right now, the only thing I want to do is figure out the mess I just got myself into with the cute blonde.
Sliding into the booth, I notice Quinn’s already finished her first drink. I can’t help but smirk, raising an eyebrow in mock judgment, earning me the middle finger in return. It’s cute, how she somehow looks innocent even while flipping me off with black nails—her go to.
Not that I remember or anything.
“Not judging, just surprised. I know you’re not a huge drinker.”
“Yeah, well, I’d say today calls for a bevvy. What do you think?” she snaps, her usually inviting eyes shooting daggers my way.
Laughing, I just shrug, passing her the one she ordered for me her way, seeming like she needs it more.
“Truthfully, Q, I’m not exactly sure what happened today.”
“Which part? The part where my uncle became your new coach? Or the part where my sister decided to be a complete twat?”
“Let’s start with option two. What the fuck was that all about?” I ask, just as the waitress comes over with a refill, obviously paying attention.
Glaring, she leans back in the booth, my first glass of whiskey in her hand, as she watches me.
“Are you asking as a friend or as her ex?”
“I think our situation today proved I’m only worried about my friend,” I say, watching her face soften just a touch. Thank fuck—the ice queen act was getting old. I’m too mentally exhausted to play games tonight.
“Fair. But it’s nothing, honestly. It’s just who she is to me. It’s frustrating, but there’s nothing I can do to change how she feels about me.”
“And how does she feel about you?” I ask, watching her eyes well up with tears. I can’t help but wonder how I ever got engaged to someone capable of hurting Quinn so badly.
“I think it's pretty obvious. She hates me,” Quinn says, her eyes going vacant as she stares off to the side, lost in thought.
“That's what you get from her behavior? That she hates you?”
Her eyes snap back to me. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“Quinn, Ally has been jealous of you for years. I noticed it when I was…when she and I?—”
“When you two were what? Dating? Fucking? Engaged?” she quips. The hint of a smile on her lips tells me she's just giving me a hard time, but there's a sadness in her voice when she says those words, and I can tell it hurt.
As much as I want to be her hero, her savior, and to take away her pain, I'll bathe in her sadness if that’s the only way she’ll think about me. I'm too selfish to make it stop.
Which is why I’m agreeing to this stupid fake dating bullshit in the first place.
Sighing, I run my fingers through my hair. Her sass is already doing it for me—my cock is ready to play.
Down boy.
“Yeah, somewhere in there,” I tell her with a smirk, and she just glares.
“I've never understood how someone as hot as you could have such horrible taste in women.”
“Well, Angel, seeing as you are now my girlfriend, we probably shouldn't be frowning on my judgment. Self-deprecation isn't cute.”
She sticks her tongue out at me, and I want to kiss her even though that's probably against the rules now. Actually, what are the rules for this arrangement?
“So, about this situation…what was your actual idea? Because this feels crazy.”
“It probably is crazy,” she says, setting her drink down. She pauses for a moment, her fingers twirling through her blonde strands—a nervous habit she's done for years. It's always made me want to comfort her. Right now it just makes me want to fuck her.
“I don't have all night,” I snap. Like I said, not in the mood for the games tonight.
“Look, we just need to date. He wants me to date more than he wants to win the Stanley Cup. I need him to take me seriously.”
“What's in it for me? How long does this last?”
Why are you baiting her?
“You stay in Nashville, not L.A. And it lasts until we know my uncle won’t trade you and he’s over my commitment issues—then we can have an amicable split. So at least until the end of this season for starters.”
“I mean, I guess that's worth it. What about rules?” I smirk, and it looks like she wants to say something, but she must think better of it and moves on.
“If we do this, we can't tell anyone about this, obviously. And we actually have to act like we like each other.”
“Okay, well, my friends definitely already know, but you don’t need to stress. They may be little gossipers, but that’s only within our group. Outside of that, they won't say shit. As for acting like we like each other, I think we can manage. What about sex?” I ask, fingers crossed it's okayed, but I’m already doubting it.
She plays with her hair for another moment, her eyes drifting past me as she bites her lip. I can only hope she's thinking about one of our nights together.
“That…is a very bad idea,” she says quietly.
“Worried you'll get addicted to my dick? A-dick-ted?” I say, unable to stop myself from acting like I'm thirteen.
But she just shakes her head, her eyes bright, and I can tell she's trying not to laugh. Still, she's being serious right now and I'm doing my best to be respectful.
Kind of.
“No, no, no. Nothing physical. That's how this gets messy.”
“No, Angel. That's how you get messy, but you're probably right.” I smirk, and she blushes. “Alright. I guess if you don't want to take advantage of my cock while you're my girlfriend, that's your choice. Maybe I'll find someone else to take advantage of it tonight. We can start our celibacy tomorrow,” I say, and for a moment, I almost think she's going to change her mind, but then, she stands up.
“Thanks for meeting me, Levi. I'm going to go. I’m hoping this little arrangement helps us both.”
But instead of walking towards the main entrance to leave, she heads back over to the group of guys from before, all of whom are laughing and having a good time but waste no time in noticing Quinn.
Mother. Fucker.
I'm going to have to fight tonight, I just fucking know it.