Chapter 18
I’m a piece of shit for leaving Amber right now, but Harvey called because Michelle is losing her fucking mind, and someone (special like me because I’m so important to her) needs to calm her down.
A part of me feels responsible for Michelle because of my negligence in being a real gentleman towards her.
She deserves someone who likes her and cares about her because I’m not the guy for her.
Everything between us has been solely physical.
What can I say? She’s a beautiful girl. Nobody would deny that.
My dick couldn’t stay in it’s Goddamn pants because of it.
When she asked to record us hooking up, I didn’t think much of it other than it was hot as hell she wanted to look back at our time together. Clearly, she’s out of her fucking mind.
But I’m done with her. Tripping Amber because I danced with her is fucking insane.
Michelle has stirred enough commotion in my life.
I don’t need her to ruin the one thing I currently cherish.
Yeah, there was a moment where I thought Maddie was it.
But after seeing what she was capable of, I decided to be done with her too.
Maddie never heard me out, she ran straight to my ex-stepbrother, and I got my ass handed to me when I threw the first punch at Grey.
It jeopardized hockey, I had my mom yelling at me, and it put me in a depression.
I barely cared that everyone knew what my dick looked like.
But now I know that there’s nothing that could keep me chasing Madison Wilder.
She wasn’t the one for me. It’s clear as day now.
All that crying and chasing is embarrassing as fuck, man.
I walk behind the house and pass a few crowds. Michelle is standing with her arms crossed, licking her teeth. Harvey is keeping his distance from her. So, when he sees me, he gives me a thumbs up and walks away.
I say to Michelle, “Come on, let’s get you home.”
She doesn’t protest, even though the sass is written all over her face.
I walk ahead of her, leading her to my truck. I look up the street to see if Amber’s car is still there. It’s gone, and that’s a relief.
I open the passenger door for Michelle and wait for her to get in. When I try to close the door, she says, “Are you going to buckle me in?”
Jesus fuck.
I lean over with the seatbelt as she stares at me. The buckle clicks and then I’m slamming the door in her face.
When I get into the driver’s seat, she says, “You’re so angry all the time, Matty.”
I shake my head.
“Did I ruin your first date?” she snarks. All I smell is alcohol on her breath.
I throw the truck in reverse and then drive off.
She touches my arm as I stare at the road, counting down the seconds until we’re at the dorms.
“Aw, why aren’t you talking?”
“You’re drunk,” I state.
She smiles. “That’s never stopped you before.”
“Michelle, I already told you.”
She drops the act, pulling her hand back and snarks, “God, you are like every other man out there, you know that? Such a fuck boy. You only care about yourself. You wouldn’t even consider getting to know me because all you care about is one fucking thing.
But guess what? You’re only good for one fucking thing, Matt.
Do you want to know what they say about our video? ”
Here we go. I inhale, not wanting to know the bullshit rumors she’s spreading herself.
“Your dick is average, your balls are too small, and you’re lousy in bed,” she seethes.
“And what do they say about you?”
Her eyes widen once she realizes what I’m implying.
“Fuck you, Matt!”
I shrug.
“You’re even lucky that I’m in this truck with you.”
I hold in my scoff. I won’t fall for any of this because she’s like the crazy ex-girlfriend who can’t get over my dick.
She continues, “You pretend like you’re God’s gift to the world, but really, deep down inside, you’re just an insecure lost little boy who always wanted mommy to put him first, but she was too busy fucking the whole town.”
I rip my eyes off the road to glare at her. She hit a sore spot, but if there’s anything I learned tonight–from Amber–it’s that I can be the bigger person. What would Amber do right now? Not say a word and take the drunk girl home, so that’s what I’m going to do.
As the seconds tick on by, drunk Michelle realizes that I’m not going to reply.
She adds, “You have nothing to say, little Matty? Huh? Cat got your tongue?”
“How drunk are you?” I ask, pulling into the parking lot for the dorms. Thank fuck.
Michelle scowls at me. “Not that drunk.”
Says every drunk person, am I right?
“So, remember what I’m about to tell you.” I drive slowly, looking over at her. “You and I are fucking done. Don’t come to my games, don’t come to my practices anymore. Fuck, don’t come to the parties anymore. This thing you have for me is ending right now.”
“Fuck you, Matt!”
I press the brakes of my truck in the middle of the road, coming to a complete stop.
I glare at her and say, “I’m dead fucking serious, Michelle.
I slipped up when I fucked you after Maddie broke up with me.
I knew I fucked up when I slept with you a dozen times before I even got with Maddie.
And fuck the video, Michelle. I don’t give a fuck about it anymore.
But what I do care about is you moving on.
This hasn’t been healthy for either of us, and I know–I know what you’re going to say.
I take full responsibility for being a dick to you and leading you on.
You’re a beautiful girl, you deserve so much better than what I can offer you.
You deserve better. But this thing between us is fucking done. It’s over.”
She’s baffled, blinking back whatever’s going on in her mind. I’m probably talking too fast for a drunk person to comprehend, but I needed to say it.
“I’m sorry, Michelle. I’m sorry for being an asshole and only wanting one thing from you.
” I say it because I mean it. I’ve led her on for months, and I can’t blame her for trying to keep me.
Dancing with Amber tonight was probably a siren going off in her head.
I should have apologized sooner, maybe even been considerate and warned her.
I’m relieved when Michelle doesn’t cry. Instead, she unbuckles herself and says, “Whatever. Pull up over there.”
I drive slowly over to the curb. She opens the door before I stop the truck.
We don’t say another word as she steps out.
I watch her walk to the dorms because I don’t want to be responsible for anything horrific happening to her. Right before she walks through the door, she turns around and sees me. I drive off before our eyes can meet, glad to be fucking done.
“Dude,” Dylan says right as I enter the locker room. The smell in here is half disgusting but pure nostalgia. It’s time to get ready for practice and then work at the Grind Stone later.
“Matt,” Dylan hollers, waving his phone. “Have you been reading these comments?”
I roll my eyes, not wanting to hear what Michelle and her clan have been spamming in the comments on their fake accounts.
“Maybe save it for after practice?” I mutter as my eyes slice to Dylan.
“One of the older videos is blowing up right now.”
I exhale, knowing exactly what video he’s talking about.
I’m skating backwards with my shirt lifting up to show my abs and then it flips to some of the guys on the team.
But hell, my face is clickbait for the account.
The social media manager is using my face for every thumbnail.
Every video starts with me, and if it’s not me, I’m there a second later.
I think it’s fair to say that there are not many pretty faces in here like mine.
It’s my hair, my eyes, my scowl. Grey and I could pass for real brothers, and I think that’s why our parents married.
They could fool people that we were related by our similar features.
My outgoing personality outshines him by a mile though.
The social media manager knows it, so she doesn’t ask him to make videos.
I wouldn’t say Grey’s as good-looking as me, but apparently, Maddie thinks so.
Dylan says, “One chick just commented on it yesterday saying that she would let you use that hockey stick for other things.”
Harvey and Crew laugh. I shake my head.
Dylan chuckles, “Should I tell her Matt’s open for business? Come and get it, girl.”
Harvey pats my chest. “I don’t know if he is open for business. Did you see him at the party the other night?”
Dylan laughs. “Right, you had one girl on the dance floor and then you were taking the other one home.”
I shake my head. “Because I am open for business, but you don’t have to comment that shit on social media. Don’t be a fucking troll.”
Dylan stares at his phone with a smile. “Another one said she’d give it to the second guy. That’s you, Harv. Are you open for business?”
“Dude, get ready for practice,” I say, getting annoyed.
“They say some crazy shit on here. Women are just as bad as men.” He starts using a high-pitched voice, “I need that first one RIGHT NOW! Somebody know all of their @’s? I can handle all of them. And I don’t mean in a fight. Why are they so top-tier? Hockey players are the hottest.”
“It’s crazy on there all right.” Propping my stick up, I start wrapping it with tape in a different technique I found online. I’m following a tutorial on my phone with the volume on mute.
“We should make more of these videos. Matt, you down?”
I glance over at Dylan. “Yeah, but it’ll cut into your practice time because I have to get to work right after this. No time to fuck around after.”
“Work?”
I nod, finishing up on the tutorial.
“The Grind Stone,” Crew answers.
“The Grind Stone,” Harvey mocks in a stupid voice.
“The Grind Stone,” I confirm.
I don’t care what these fuckers think about me, but it’s like they all know something I don’t know.
We start heading out of the locker room as Harvey says, “You get to see your little girlfriend after this.”
I whack his ass with my stick.
Dylan says, “Oh, I can already see the comments flooding in. I wish Matthew Pearson would smack my ass like that. Do it again, so I can videotape it.”
I roll my eyes. “Dude.”
We all laugh as we glide into the rink.
When I walk into the Grind Stone, I’m adjusting the hat on my head. My hair needs to be tucked to the side. As I open the front door, I’m reminded of the sign I taped up not too long ago that said: Closed for Sex. I snicker to myself as I enter the building.
It’s fairly empty in here when I hear Amber but don’t see her.
“Welcome to the Grind Stone,” she says. She’s scared, the edges of her voice shake, but she’s nowhere in sight.
I hear shuffling as I walk around the counter.
“Oh, thank God, it’s just you,” she says, basically crawling on the ground. She’s in a squatting fetal position. I glance around, wondering what she’s hiding from. Her apron is sprawled on the ground a few feet away.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
She stares up at me, probably realizing how ridiculous she looks. She reaches for the apron, but I pick it up instead. I reach out my hand to help her.
Reluctantly, she glances at my palm and then back to my face. She grabs my hand and stands.
I hand her the apron and ask, “Are you going to tell me why you’re on the ground, stripping at work?”
She ties the apron around her waist as she observes the hat on my head.
“There was a wasp inside my apron, so naturally, I fell to the ground.”
“Oh,” I take a look around. “Naturally, huh?”
She rolls her eyes. “Shut up, Matthew,” she says playfully.
“Should I check your apron for the wasp?” I reach for her and then catch myself. Her stunning eyes pull me in, making me wonder why I just hesitated. Would she let me?
If things were different and we didn’t meet the way that we did, maybe I would be here on the opposite side of the counter, flirting with her.
I could give her the Matthew play-by-play, ask for her number like a normal person, instead of stealing it off the clipboard in the back.
Maybe we could have been friends if we started off on the right foot, instead, we’re here, and she only likes me because I’ve forced myself into her life.
Maybe she’s only nice to me because of the guilt.
“I’m sorry but that would be extremely inappropriate, Mr. Pearson.” She leans in, her eyes gleaming. “This apron is wasp-free and the only person removing my apron will be me.”
Challenge accepted. I take a mental note that now I need to take off her damn apron because she thinks she won’t ever let me.
“Are you going to stand there and gawk?” she whispers in my face. “Or are you going to clock in?”
My eyes drag down her face, noticing how close she is to me. She’s comfortable. By that smirk tugging at her lips, I can tell she’s feeling very comfortable.
When the wasp flies by, I smirk, bracing myself for the potential scream that’s about to happen. When she notices it, her eyes widen. But instead of running, she grabs me and puts me in between her and the damn thing. She’s using me for a shield.
The grip she has on my shirt makes me laugh. Then she pushes me toward it and runs out of the store. I watch as she shakes out her jitters. I need to catch this thing before it stings one of us.