Chapter 5
CALLUM
When I walk out of the locker room, I’m still consumed with thoughts of brown eyes and smooth skin. Everyone is headed to Block on Wood to decompress as usual. Maybe I’ll get lucky and she’ll be there tonight.
I got held up trying to introduce Kubanski to Chloe the other evening. By the time I returned to the rooftop, she was gone. I effectively cockblocked myself to help a teammate get laid and, if karma is real, my good deed will earn me another chance with Alia.
Deep in my own musing, I don’t notice someone waiting down the hall until I’m right behind them. They turn, jumping at my closeness, a familiar look of surprise on their—no, her pretty face.
“Tater Tots?”
I unintentionally scan her, greedily drinking in her details in the daylight.
Her hair is pulled up into a high ponytail that leaves nothing to distract from her almond eyes and sharp cheekbones.
She’s in tight leggings, this time paired with a casual white tee and an army-green bomber which offsets the caramel of her skin. She looks downright edible.
Her mouth drops open before she recovers. “Uh. . .”
My excitement dims when she seems less enthused to see me. “You don’t remember me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Did you come to watch me play tonight?” I lean my shoulder on the wall, tilting my head to teasingly ask, “You stalking me, gorgeous?”
Alia scoffs, sputtering, “No. No! Oh my god, no.”
The vehement dismissal feels like overkill. If she knew I hadn’t stopped wondering about her, she’d be less self-conscious.
“Why’d you ditch me last week?”
The words come out in a rush and I cringe internally. Smooth, Finnigan. Real smooth.
She blinks, surprised by my directness. White teeth tamp down on her lush lower lip and it’s all I can do to not reach up and soothe the bite. Or ask if I can bite her instead. Damn, celibacy is making me weak. I’m already turned on.
“My cousin was there to pick me up and I had to leave.”
Something about the way she doesn’t meet my eyes tells me there is more to the story, but I’m focused on getting her number before delving into any of that. If this works out, I’ll get her to spill her guts over a cozy meal at my favorite restaurant. I hope she likes pasta.
“You should’ve stayed,” I cluck. “Maybe the night would have turned out differently for the both of us.”
“Guess we’ll never know,” she says softly, shrugging as though there won’t be another opportunity for us.
“How about tonight?”
DuPont’s comment about running after a girl rings in my ears and, for once, I’m intrigued enough that I think I won’t mind the chase.
“I have plans.”
“Plans involving dinner with a handsome hockey player?” I keep my tone light enough to come across cheeky instead of egotistical. A smile blossoms on her face and I stand a little taller.
“Funnily enough,” she chuckles, “yes.”
“Excellent. Tell me where to pick you up, Tots.”
“I, uh.” She hesitates, her gaze darting about. “I meant a different hockey player. That’s who I’m waiting for.”
Excuse me?
“Who the. . .”
“Aloo!”
I barely turn before Moore walks past me, grabbing Alia in a hug far too familiar for my comfort. My fist tightens over my phone and I resist the urge to break them apart.
I have no claim over this woman. None whatsoever. Still, watching her face light up as she lets Rohan publicly maul her is like getting punched in the throat. An acrid taste fills my mouth, one I hate to admit borders on jealousy.
I don’t get jealous. There are more than enough ladies to go around. Usually, if some other guy wants the attention of a woman I’m interested in, I step away.
This time, my feet are rooted into the goddamn concrete.
I’ve always liked Rohan. I count him as a good friend. Right now though, I want to shove him up against the boards without reason. Tots gazing at him like he’s the best fucking thing since the invention of pucks has me gnashing my teeth.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Rohan says, smiling more than I’ve ever seen the grump do.
“I just got here. Missed the game though,” she replies.
“All good. We won.” When he notices me, his expression grows confused. “What’re you doing here?”
I don’t reply, still trying and failing to ignore his arm around her shoulders. My sight drifts to Alia.
I thought she didn’t follow hockey. Was that a lie? She looks too cozy in Rohan’s embrace for them to have only met recently. What’s she playing at? Or, who?
“I met Sp. . . uh. Mr. Nov. . . Theo, last week,” Alia stumbles.
“What? Where?”
“Block on Wood.”
“You never mentioned that, Aloo.”
I don’t like the way he’s talking to her. As if he has the right to demand answers.
“Nothing worth mentioning. I was fine, Ro,” she replies, sounding mildly exasperated.
“Yeah? That’s why you don’t even know his name?” Rohan stands with his arms crossed over his chest like a disapproving father.
Fuck. Now I really want to shove him against something. What the hell is that tone he’s talking to her in? Like she’s a goddamn child?
Her brows twist, looking at me for help.
Guilt thrusts a sharp needle in my gut, and I grimace, knowing my silly choice to keep my name a secret is returning to bite me in the ass.
“Callum Finnigan.”
I notice the exact moment when understanding settles in.
Something uncomfortably close to betrayal rises to the surface before she glances away.
I wait for her to say something, to ask for clarification or deliver a reprimand, but she never does.
Instead, Rohan pulls out a set of keys and hands it to her.
“Go on. You know where I parked. I’ll find you there.”
Alia ignores me as she walks down the hall and exits out the door. My view of her is cut off when Rohan steps into my field of vision. He’s frowning. While that’s generally in character with the man I’ve come to call friend, he’s got an edge when he speaks.
“Is Alia the girl you were talking about in the locker room?”
I run my fingers through my damp hair, wondering how truthful I should be. The tie around my throat tightens like a noose. “Listen, bud. I had a conversation with her. Nothing else happened.”
He looks conflicted, a flicker of worry softening his stern expression. “I. . . She’s important to me.”
Important? Like, she’s your girlfriend?
“It was nothing,” I assure him, the lie feeling like ash on my tongue. It was something. I’d flirted with her. Heavily. And she’d been into it.
She’d also been tipsy. Maybe that’s why she left. Because she came to her senses. The idea is appealing because it means she has morals, yet disappointing because every door to her is now closed. I’d never make a move on another man’s girl, especially not my friend’s.
Rohan rubs his chin, exhaling loudly. “I don’t mean to sound like an ass, but don’t practice your charm on her.”
My brows rise at his demand. Charming Cal is a shitty nickname that the team teases me with; I apparently charm even the women I reject so they don’t hate me.
It’s not like I have some mysterious power.
I’m respectful, that’s all. I never lie about what their time with me will mean.
Those who want the same things I do always leave happy the next morning.
Those that expect something else. . . Well, rarely has it been about their desire for me versus what life as an NHL WAG offers.
I never thought the tact that allowed me to spare their feelings would earn me the reputation of a fuckboy—or that I would dislike hearing about it. Because, when Rohan says ‘charm’, it sounds synonymous with a contagious infection.
“Charm?” I grit out, my jaw locking tightly.
“You know what I mean.”
“Moore, I may not be a fucking saint but I won’t apologize for having fun as a single man.”
“Nor should you,” he says, not missing a beat. “As long as that fun isn’t with Alia.”
“Like I said,” I hiss through clenched teeth, “it was one conversation. Seriously, buddy. Lighten up.”
He pins me with a hard look. “You should be glad you don’t have little sisters to worry about.”
My heart resuscitates, pounding away like a drum.
Sister?
“She’s been through enough shit, Cal. I’m serious. She’s not a bunny you can fuck around with. She’s my cousin and completely off-limits.”