Eight
Alex
I’m pretty sure today is one of those days where the world is trying to fuck me over.
When we ran out of eggs this morning, I went to the store to find all of the shelves empty.
After going to three different places, I finally struck gold at the fourth store, but at that point, I was already annoyed.
Thinking my day couldn’t possibly get any worse, I returned to my car to find it had a flat tire.
But what took the fucking cake? A fucking bird shat on me as I finished changing the tire.
Today can go fuck itself with a rusty spoon.
I push the door open to the shop and my frustration rockets at the bell chiming above my head.
“Ugh!” I grunt, throwing a glare at the object.
“What took you so long?” Jacob asks from behind the counter.
“There weren’t any eggs anywhere,” I reply, taking the bags into the kitchen.
“Wow, that’s something I never thought would happen.”
I set the bags on the counter with an irritated huff. “Me neither, but here we are.”
I unpack the eggs, placing them carefully into the storage containers before disposing of the cartons in the recycling. “Then I had a flat tire.”
“Ugh, you’re kidding,” he groans. “Really?”
“Yeah. Luckily, I managed to fit the spare, but I don’t know how long it’ll last. I’ll ask Nate if his friend can look at it.”
He rubs his hand over his face. Exhaustion is etched across his face, from his pale skin to the dark circles under his eyes. I know he’s thinking the same as me—how are we going to be able to afford a new tire? But that’s a problem for future Alex to figure out.
“The worst thing? I got shat on by a bird.”
Jacob drops his hand, trying to suppress his laugh by rolling his lips together.
“It’s not funny! I had to rush home and change my shirt because it was all down my back.”
He holds his hand up. “Please, no grim details. You’ll make me gag.”
Rolling my eyes at my brother, I put my apron on and get back into work mode. We’re nearly sold out, but we still have three custom orders to get finished today.
“You had some visitors while you were out,” Jacob announces, leaning his shoulder against the door jamb. His head tilts to the side as he purses his lips.
“Oh?”
“Does the name Blaine ring any bells?”
My heartbeat speeds up at the sound of his name.
I wasn’t expecting to hear from him when I gave him my number.
I just put it down to one of those experiences where you meet a hot guy and then never hear from them again.
It becomes a story you tell your friends over drinks: Do you remember that time an NHL player asked for my number? Ha, yeah, me too .
But no, he proved me wrong. He’s texted constantly, each time with a cheesier pick-up line than the last.
I can’t deny that I feel giddy being the focus of his attention. That even with the number of people he could be texting, he seems to want to message me.
Maybe he ’ s texting everyone else the same thing, too.
I grunt at my inner thoughts.
“He wanted to let you know that he’s put two tickets aside for you at will call for tonight's game.”
My mouth drops open, closes, then opens again. “What?” comes out a few octaves higher than usual.
Digging my phone out of my pocket, I see five texts from Blaine on the screen. A slow smile creeps onto my face. Why does he have to be so fucking irresistible when he’s supposed to be a jackass? I don’t know which side of him to believe is real.
Jacob lifts a shoulder. “That’s what he said, but Alex?”
Looking up from my phone, I see my brother's forehead creasing in a deep frown.
“Be careful. He seems like trouble with a capital T, and I don’t want to see you get wrapped up in whatever he’s trying to lure you into.”
Jacob’s been there through every single one of my heartbreaks, so his concern is valid.
He’s always thought athletes are shallow, constantly looking for whatever greener grass is on the other side, regardless of who they have to hurt to get there.
He went through so much in school, too, that I don’t blame him for being jaded.
“I’ll be careful.” I give Jacob what I hope is a reassuring smile. “But if I’m gonna be getting out on time for the game, I need to get started on these orders!”
But first, I type out a reply to his texts.
Alex
I’ll be there. You better score a goal for me!
* * *
Nate lets out a low whistle. “Wow. I need to bag me a hockey player so I can get some free tickets.”
After I replied to Blaine’s text earlier, I sent one to Nate asking if he was free, since there was no way I’d be coming on my own, and Jacob hates hockey. Luckily, he works for himself, so he managed to shuffle his schedule around to get the night off.
We find our seats—a few rows up from the home bench—and get comfortable. We were late since I didn’t finish as early as I'd hoped and ended up missing warm-up. I watch the Zamboni as it glides over the ice, chewing on the inside of my cheek as anxiety creeps in.
“Do you think any of his teammates wants a fuck buddy?” Nate asks.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, silently laughing to myself. He has no filter whatsoever.
“What?” He laughs between munching on some nachos.
“I mean it. I could get used to this life. Hot sex, hot hockey player, free tickets.” He shrugs.
“Seems like a good time. Maybe that cute goalie would be down for some fun. Is there such a thing as a male puck bunny? Would they be like…” He waves his hand around, searching for the word.
“A buck?” I supply.
He hoots. “A puck buck.”
I shake my head with a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”
He blows me a kiss. “You know it, boo.”
As the Zamboni leaves the ice, my phone vibrates in my pocket, and immediately my mind races to my brother.
I left him to deliver the custom orders with that shitty spare tire that Nate has promised his friend will come and look at tomorrow, but the worry in my chest is replaced with surprise when Blaine’s name appears on the screen.
Blaine
Meet me outside the locker room after the game.
“He asked to meet after the game,” I say quietly.
This feels like a wild dream, and I’m going to wake up soon.
“If he asks you on a date again, what are you gonna say?”
I chew on the skin around my thumb. “I don’t know.”
Nate angles his body toward mine, his usually playful tone suddenly turning serious.
“It doesn’t have to be something more. You can control it.
Lay down the law and say you only want to go for dinner.
If he’s genuine about taking you out, he’ll agree to just that.
” He muses for a bit. “It’s kinda insane for a guy like him to be so persistent, considering his MO is fuck and chuck. ”
I’ve been thinking about it a lot because Blaine seems to have taken up permanent residence in my brain since the night at Gino’s. I’d be an idiot to pass up dinner with him, right?
Can I protect my heart, knowing that whatever this is will probably be short lived, though?
Possibly?
But despite the heartache I’ve been through, I’m still in love with the idea of love, so it’s hard for me to go into something without hoping it ends up in forever.
“Maybe,” I say as the lights go down and the smoke machines start up.
Red lights flash against the pristine white ice to match the beat of Thunder’s signature entry song “Burn it to the Ground”, and fans sing at the top of their lungs.
I settle back in my seat, excitement thrumming through my veins for the game ahead.
* * *
The buzzer sounds, ending the game 5-0 to Chicago Thunder. The team swarms onto the ice to celebrate their win, bumping helmets with Elliot.
My throat is hoarse from cheering and my hands sting from clapping, and when the crowd disperses up the stairs toward the atrium, I turn to Nate.
“I have no idea how we get to the locker room.”
He chuckles. “Maybe Blaine will find us with the little Alex-radar thing he’s got going on.”
Luckily, we’re saved by a blond lady in a baby-blue tailored suit.
“Hey, Alex?” She looks between me and Nate.
Nate points to me as I say, “Hey, yeah, that’s me.”
Her face lights up with a smile. “Great! If you could both just follow me.”
She begins to climb the stairs in her spiked stilettos at such speed that Nate and I have to jog to keep up with her. She leads us down some corridors, flashing a badge at the security guards as we go.
“Blaine was worried you wouldn’t know where to go, so he asked me to come find you.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. My palms are sweaty with nerves, and I subtly wipe them on the side of my jeans.
We pass through a final set of doors, stopping outside one with Thunder’s logo and Locker Room written underneath.
“If you could wait here, he’ll be out shortly,” she says before walking away.
Nate—being the mischievous fuck he is—goes straight to the door and gently pushes it open. The pumping sound of music and out-of-tune singing comes through the gap. He lets it close softly before turning to face me, wearing a wicked grin. “Wow, there’s a lot of nipples in there.”
My laugh is shaky, and I playfully swat his arm. “Stop it, you’ll get us thrown out.”
“Shame they had their towels on.” He wiggles his eyebrows.
Forty minutes later, the door opens, and Blaine appears wearing a dark forest green suit that fits him like a glove. The color compliments his skin tone, and the crisp white shirt underneath is screaming for me to rip it off him.
His face lights up when he spots me. “You came,” he beams.
“Yeah, thank you for the tickets. It was a really great game.”
I really want to congratulate him and gush over his hat trick and assist, but I’m conscious that I don’t want to seem like a fanboy.
“I know you asked for one goal, but I thought I’d give you three.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to my cheek.
Holy shit.
Blaine Olsen just kissed me.
I sigh happily, my heart swelling in my chest as I practically melt under his touch.
“I was hoping that if I showed you how awesome I am, you might agree to go out with me.”
His eyes twinkle, but there’s a hint of uncertainty. This time, when he leans in, his voice is a seductive whisper. Deep and husky, and it goes straight to my balls.
“There’s something wrong with my eyes.” His lips tip up in a devilish grin. “Because I can’t seem to take them off you.”
A bark of laughter escapes me. “You’re funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny this time, but am I funny enough to go on a date with me?”
Yes, yes, yes!
But I can’t give in just yet. I’m enjoying teasing him far too much.
“Why do you wanna take me out so bad?” I shove my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, trying to act aloof when all I really want is to kiss his gorgeous smile off his face. “You don’t seem like the going-on-dates type.”
He shrugs. “What can I say? You’re hot, I’m hot, we’ve got some serious vibes going on, why wouldn’t I?”
I tilt my head to the side.
Interesting. He oozes confidence, yet there are glimpses of vulnerability.
“He would love to go on a date with you,” Nate interrupts. “His favorite kind of food is Mexican and Italian, so if you take him for tacos, you’re guaranteed a good time, but he also likes walks in the park and does this weird thing where he mixes M&Ms into his popcorn.”
I glare at my soon-to-be ex-best friend.
“Nate,” I curse under my breath.
He shrugs, not giving a shit.
Blaine looks between us, his brow furrowing slightly, like he is trying to work out some crazy mathematical equation. “You two aren’t a thing, right?”
We both answer in tandem in a chorus of “Hell, no!” and “Fuck, no.”
Blaine chuckles, the tips of his fingers rubbing over his stubbled chin.
“Good.” He nods and looks back at me. “Let me take you out, Alex. I promise to keep my hands to myself.” He wiggles his fingers.
I scoff in disbelief. “I don’t believe that for a second.”
“Okay, how about I promise to keep my hands to myself during dinner?” he counters.
I let out a sigh. What’s the worst that can happen? Like Nate said earlier, I could be in control.
“Just dinner,” I state.
Blaine nods fervently, as he moves closer to me. “Just dinner.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, thank fuck for that,” Elliot wails, suddenly appearing behind Blaine and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
“Do you know what you’ve made us deal with for two days?
” He steps around Blaine, shoving him out of the way to stand in front of me, hitching his thumb over his shoulder at his brother.
“This guy has been crying into his cornflakes for fucking days about the cute guy who turned him down. Do you know how annoying it is to listen to him cry?” He looks exasperated.
“I was not fucking crying, El,” Blaine glowers.
“You might as well have been!” Elliot spins on his heels to face Blaine.
“Wah, poor me, this guy rejected me, and I thought he was really hot.” He mocks with a roll of his eyes, then taps his temple with his index finger.
“You forget that we’re twins. We have that weird ass telepathic jedi juju thing.
Everything you think, I hear! I feel what you feel!
And fuck me, I thought I was gonna need to go and listen to some Lewis Capaldi while I sit in the shower to contemplate my life choices or something. ”
A bubble of laughter escapes my chest as the two brothers begin to bicker over whether or not Blaine was being annoying, completely unabashed by the fact that we’re standing outside of the locker room with several people still milling around, including the media.
Looking at them, you wouldn’t know they were twins—Blaine is bulkier, whereas Elliot is taller and leaner. Blaine’s hair is a darker auburn, and Elliot’s is strawberry blond, and his eyes are a pale green compared to Blaine’s silver.
I try to contain my amusement, completely entertained by the two as they continue to argue.
Maybe this is the real side of Blaine Olsen. The guy with a great sense of humor who gets ribbed by his brother and gets nervous about asking guys on a date.
And shit, that scares me because that guy has the potential to hurt me.
My heart may be in a world of trouble.