9. Grant
NINE
GRANT
“Order, order.” Maverick knocks a plastic gavel against the coffee table. “Can you all please shut up so we can get started? This meeting of the Puck Kings Book Club is about to begin. It’s March, which means it’s our second-to-last gathering of the season. We need to make it a good one.”
“Dude.” Ethan smirks. “Just because Emmy said she reads romance books doesn’t mean she’s going to suddenly want to sleep with you because you started reading romance books.”
“You sure about that?” Mav challenges.
“No one wants to sleep with you either, Easy E,” Riley jokes.
“Plenty of people want to sleep with me. I have more followers on social media than any of you, and I don’t like being roped in with the virgins,” Ethan announces, and I drop my book. It slams to the ground, and his attention bounces over to me. “You okay, G?”
“Sweaty palms.” I grin and scoop up the paperback, holding it close to my chest. “Can we get back to the book talk? I liked it. That scene where he takes care of her after she’s thrown from the horse is one of my favorite parts.”
“Because you like cute books.” Connor McKenzie, Ethan’s backup, laughs. “I want to see you read a dark romance that goes outside the box.”
“Bring it on. I’m an equal opportunity reader, and I don’t discriminate,” I say.
“You can’t watch a scary movie without covering your eyes, G.” Riley turns my way. “Do you think you could get through a book where people are losing limbs and being murdered left and right, and like it?”
“I’m going to search for the darkest dark romance book in existence and prove to y’all that I can read anything.” My phone lights up on the table before I have a chance to reach for it, and Ethan snatches it. “Hey. Give it back.”
“Oh my god.” He gasps and looks at me. “Grant-I-don’t-know-your-middle-name-Everett. You dog.”
My heart stops. I start to panic. My life flashes before my eyes, afraid a message from Amelia popped up on the screen.
Goddamn Instagram notifications.
None of the guys know we’ve spent time together. They don’t know I was a bold motherfucker the other night and liked her social media photo. They sure as shit don’t know I fell asleep smiling because of the messages we sent.
Our conversation was harmless, but I don’t need them making comments that could get her in trouble.
“What’s up?” I try my best to sound casual. “And my middle name is Calloway, by the way.”
“Betsy Buchanan just followed you on Instagram!” Ethan exclaims.
“Who the hell is Betsy Buchanan?” Hudson asks.
“What’s with all the alliterative names?” Liam grumbles. “Other letters exist.”
“She’s a volleyball player who graduated from UCLA a couple years ago and is a total smoke show. She’s an influencer now, and all her photos are hot,” Ethan explains. “Why is she following you, G? When the hell did you two meet?”
“I don’t know why she’s following me, and I’ve never met her.” I steal my phone back and open the app, finding a message from her at the top of my inbox. I read it and frown. “She said she saw a couple videos of me and wanted to say hi.”
“Look at you go, G. It was only a matter of time before people recognized your good looks. We start winning, and you get attention on you.” Maverick grins. “Welcome to the good life. You can have anyone you want, whenever you want. Sometimes multiple people at the same time.”
“Cool.” I toss the guys a forced smile. “Guess I’ve made it.”
It’s the best answer I can give.
Based on everyone’s commentary about hookups and the girls they know in different cities, I’m the least experienced one on the team. They might be exaggerating—everything in this sport is a dick measuring contest—but I don’t have any stories to add.
I’m twenty-two, a professional hockey player, and I’ve never had sex.
I’ve dated a couple girls, but we always broke up before we got to that part. Outside of a relationship, I’ve tried to be the one-night stand guy. I’ve tried to sleep with someone without knowing their name, but it never works.
I need connection. An attachment for things to move forward physically.
A sensitive, sweet-souled anomaly of a man, my younger sister, Hannah, likes to call me. But that’s a good thing. Women like that!
I’m not so sure.
The message from Betsy Buchanan is hardly the first thing to land in my inbox that implies someone wants to get to know me. And, yeah, a quick glance at her profile confirms she’s attractive as hell, but these days, I’m not interested in striking up a conversation with anyone.
Haven’t been since I met Amelia.
I’m not an idiot.
I’ll have to get over my pathetic crush at some point. We can never be anything more than friends—she’s made that abundantly clear—but she’s so goddamn interesting. Funny, too, and I’m going to be delusional a little while longer.
“If you don’t want to talk to her, I will,” Ethan says, and I roll my eyes.
“You’re a leech, Richardson. I’ll message her back and see what’s up.” I shove my phone between the couch cushions so no one else can tease me. It’s a lie, but it gets him off my back. “Thanks for the stamp of approval though.”
“If you ever need a referral for someone who will show you a good time, G, just say the word. Maverick and I can hook you up.” Ethan pauses and looks at our captain. “Hang on. I haven’t seen you with any women all year. What’s up with that?”
“What are you talking about?” Mav blinks. “I’ve slept with plenty of people this year.”
“Bullshit. The two of us would roll back to the hotel with girls on our arms way past curfew last season. Two weeks ago in San Antonio, you were the first one in bed.” Ethan leans forward.
“You didn’t even show up to our movie night in Boston!
We watched Bambi, and skipping animated films about animals is cruel, Cap. What’s the deal?”
“No deal.” Maverick laughs. “I’m old now. My hobbies have changed.”
“You’re as bad of a liar as me,” Ethan says.
“Another book club meeting derailed.” I sigh. “I’m not participating next season.”
“Since I don’t remember the title of the book, can we circle back to the volleyball player?” Ethan pulls on my sleeve. “Am I allowed to message her, G? Pretty please.”
“I don’t care what you do, E. Just don’t send pictures of it happening to our group chat,” I say.
“I will throw my phone into the ocean if I have to see photo evidence of Richardson’s dick,” Liam barks out. “It better not ever make an appearance on my screen.”
The room turns noisy.
Ethan tries to tell Liam about the benefits of penis piercings, and I’m surprised when our grumpy goalie lasts three whole minutes before he storms to the kitchen.
Maverick passes around a plate of chocolate chip cookies and Riley tosses Connor a water bottle.
It’s chaos as usual, and it takes some wrangling to finally get everyone back on track.
When we do, Maverick sprints down the hall and drags over a whiteboard I didn’t know he owned to make a list of the best terms of endearment in romance books.
“Princess is hot,” Ethan says, and Maverick scribbles it down. “But mama is hotter.”
“How many moms are you hooking up with?” I ask.
“You’d be surprised.”
“Sweetheart is the best,” Riley adds, and Hudson hums in agreement.
“A well-timed baby when you’re in the moment gets the job done.” Maverick puts it at the top of the list, underlining it twice. “And I love getting the job done.”
“I’m going to head out,” I say around a yawn, having nothing to add to this conversation. “I haven’t been sleeping well with the trade deadline coming up.”
“What are you worried about, G-Money? You’re stuck with us forever,” Maverick says. “No one is going anywhere. We finally have a lineup that works, and Coach Saunders would be stupid to change anything this late in the season.”
“Don’t jinx us, Cap.”
My round of goodbyes takes ten minutes. Out in the hallway, I look at Betsy Buchanan’s profile one more time.
I scroll through the photos of the beautiful woman, waiting for a flash of attraction.
Nothing ever comes, and I sigh, tapping over to my sister’s contact information and calling her instead.
“Hello?” Hannah answers.
“Hey,” I say. “Are you busy right now?”
“I’m always free for ice ream.”
“Pick you up in ten?” I ask, and I can tell she’s smiling through the phone.
“See you soon, G.”