Playing Defense (Sin Bin Stories #6)

Chapter 1

JAMIE

“Yeah, that’s because you’re a virgin.”

Even as I roll my eyes, my cheeks warm. I’m not ashamed of what my teammate and roommate Felix just reminded me of—that even in my junior year of college, I’m still holding onto my V-card—but I can’t deny that sometimes I do feel a twinge of embarrassment at the word.

“I don’t think that has anything to do with it,” Sebastian replies. “It doesn’t appeal to me, either.”

“What doesn’t?” Another chair at our table pulls out, and our burly Finnish defenseman Veikko fills it. We’re all meeting to hang out after classes at Last Word, the bookshop-café downtown. It’s the second week since we returned from winter break, and classes are just finishing for the day.

“The threesome Felix had the other night,” Carter, another of our teammates and roommates, answers. “Jamie doesn’t approve.”

I hold up my hands. “Hey, hey, I didn’t say I don’t approve. I’m not judging. It’s just … not my thing.”

“Sex isn’t your thing in general, dude,” Felix answers dismissively before stuffing his mouth with a big bite of banana bread.

“Don’t be a dick, Felix,” Sebastian parries.

“What?” Felix exclaims, like he can’t understand why Sebastian is calling him out. “It’s true. I work harder trying to finally get our captain laid than he does.” Felix shakes his head, looking at me. “I don’t know why you didn’t go home with that blonde the other night. She was all over you.”

Because she wasn’t her.

That’s the answer I want to give my roommate.

After all, that’s always been the answer.

The answer to why I often pull away when girls try to flirt with me.

The answer to why I don’t go out looking for hookups like so many guys my age do.

The answer to why, at twenty-one years old, I haven’t gone any further with a girl than a couple kisses here and there.

But that fact doesn’t bother me. Unlike all the other guys I’ve known, getting physical with a girl when there’s no emotional connection doesn’t appeal to me. And I just haven’t found that emotional connection yet.

Maybe it’s stupid. I’ve certainly had my balls busted about it hundreds of times when I’ve expressed this feeling to teammates or friends. But I want to lose my virginity to a girl I’m in love with.

Cheesy? Delusional? Antiquated? Maybe. But it’s how I feel.

Is some of the reason why I haven’t found that connection due to the fact that, admittedly, I have zero game, can’t flirt, and get awkward when a girl is clearly trying to push things into a physical direction that I’m not comfortable going in? Yeah, probably.

But that’s not really the main reason. Every time I’ve been on a first date, or had conversations with girls at parties or while I’ve been out at bars with my teammates, it’s always felt …

not right. I’ve never been able to shake the feeling that the girl I’m talking to just isn’t the one for me.

Not the girl I’m going to fall for. Not the one I’d feel comfortable sharing my first time with.

That she’s not her.

Of course, for all these years, her was just an idea. Not an actual person. Not someone I’d ever met.

Until …

I glance to the side, and immediately, the breath evacuates my lungs.

A short, petite girl with curly, midnight-black hair and glossy chocolate-brown eyes steps out of the employees-only door at the back of the café.

Carmen.

As usual, she wears a cold, hard look on her face. Her full lips flat and straight, her brow low, not a trace of warmth in her eyes. It’s a look that’s clearly intended to push people away. But from the moment I first laid eyes on her, it’s only pulled me in.

There’s no logical reason for it. She’s cold, distant, seemingly completely uninterested in any kind of social interaction.

She isn’t friendly with her coworkers, she doesn’t chat with any of the regulars, and the couple of times I’ve built up the courage to try to talk to her, she hasn’t been the least bit encouraging.

My ears have that underwater feeling. I can sense the vibration of my teammates’ voices around me as they continue to talk, but I can’t make out any words.

My eyes, and one hundred percent of my attention, are latched solely on the unapproachable beauty who showed up here out of the blue a couple months ago, and who’s resisted anyone’s efforts to get to know her—especially mine.

When I saw her, it was like a bolt of lightning striking at the base of my neck. All my interest was pulled in her direction in a way I’d never felt before. I can’t explain it, but instantly, I wanted to get to know her. Wanted to spend as much time around her as possible.

No matter how little sense it makes, I haven’t been able to shake the overwhelming feeling that Carmen might be her.

I know how ridiculous that is. I also know that it’s a feeling that hasn’t gotten any weaker, no matter how many times I remind myself of that fact.

The other staff member on shift leaves, leaving Carmen alone to hold down the café side of Last Word. The business sits in a beautiful old three-story rowhome, with the first floor used as a comfortable and spacious coffee shop, while the top two floors are filled with books.

My heart sinks a bit in my chest. Even if I did build up the courage to try to talk to her again, this obviously isn’t the right time, with her being on shift alone. She’ll be busier than normal, and therefore no doubt grumpier than normal. Not ideal for sparking a conversation.

I let a swoosh of air out through my nostrils in a silent sigh and try to focus on the conversation my friends are having.

“Veikko, I’m going to nominate you for the honor,” Felix is saying.

The Finn lifts a skeptical eyebrow at our goalie. “Of what?”

Felix grins and pushes his mug across the table. “Of being the one who gets to refill my drink.”

Veikko levels Felix with a flat look, but the sight of Felix’s empty mug makes a sense of opportunity spring in my chest.

My hand snaps to his cup. “I’ll get it.” The words push out of my lips with way too much eagerness, and it doesn’t take any time at all for the guys to put two and two together.

A chorus of wry chuckles and shit-eating smirks is directed at me, but I’m on my feet and approaching the order counter before any of the guys can throw out some wiseass remark, which I’m sure they all have at the tips of their tongues.

Well, other than Veikko. Our hyper-literal Finn isn’t the wisecracking type, and he doesn’t really have a good handle on humor or sarcasm.

Honestly, I should be proud of myself for my transparent, borderline pathetic eagerness to interact with Carmen. Just a couple months ago, I was afraid to make eye contact with her, and the guys had to practically—sometimes literally—push me just to utter a few words to her.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still a tongue-tied fool every time we interact. But the important thing is, I’m not afraid to come off as a tongue-tied fool anymore. One day, before long, my persistence in trying to get to know her, even just a little bit, might pay off.

My heart starts to get erratic in my chest as I get closer to the counter. Carmen is behind it, her head bent low to look at a piece of paper on a clipboard. Maybe an inventory list or something.

I set Felix’s cup on the counter. Carmen doesn’t lift her head at the sound of the clatter of the ceramic mug and saucer against the wooden countertop.

“Hi,” I say. I wince internally. I can tell the word comes out strained and high-pitched.

A low hum of half-acknowledgment rumbles from Carmen, who still doesn’t look up. Is it strange that the sound makes my dick twitch? Probably.

“Manning the fort alone today, huh?”

Ugh. Manning the fort? I sound like a suburban dad embarrassing his kids by being too chatty with the staff. I really have a knack for figuring out the least-cool way to express myself around the one girl I’m interested in.

Finally, she looks up, an eyebrow quirked. She slowly turns her head from side to side, scanning the room. “Uh, yeah. Looks like it,” she deadpans sarcastically, the inflection in her voice practically shouting the word, Duh.

Fuck. She’s so cute when she’s being mean to me.

I can feel the tips of my ears warming as I look at her. She’s so damn pretty. The smooth, olive hue of her skin. The pale pink of her full lips. The rich brown of her eyes.

I open my mouth to say something else, but it’s like my tongue is a block of wood. I have no idea what to say.

This happens a lot around Carmen.

It’s ironic, because there are so many things I’d love to ask her.

I want to know her favorite song, her favorite books, her hobbies, where she lived before she came here, whether she’s a student at Brumehill College already or if she’s starting classes next semester.

If we went on a date, I’d never run out of conversation topics.

But those aren’t the kind of conversations you have when you’re casually exchanging a few words at a café. When it comes to making small talk, I keep coming up blank.

“Uhhh …” my voice box suddenly kicks into gear as I’m searching for words. Carmen blinks slowly, leveling me with an impatient gaze. Shit, I better think of something to say before I look even more ridiculous. “It’s supposed to snow soon. Do you like snow?”

A long beat of silence stretches out. I’m used to two-hundred-plus-pound hockey players loaded with heavy gear speeding toward me, intent on nothing but smashing into me and laying me out on the ice.

I face that down without flinching. But waiting to see how Carmen takes my feeble attempt at conversation has my nerves fraying.

She tilts a shoulder. “Yeah, I do.”

My heart leaps in my chest. A hum of excitement fires through me.

She likes the snow.

I know something about her. I asked her a personal question, and she answered it. This is a breakthrough.

I can’t let this opportunity go to waste. This is the best opening I’ve had with her yet. I have to follow up on it and ask her something else. I have to …