Chapter 3 #2
Olivier snorts. "No shit. We have the private room set up for them back there, but several of them come out here looking for pretty girls.
" He jerks his thumb toward the end of the bar, where the Seattle Havoc's main goalie, Jett Huxley, is talking to two drop-dead-gorgeous girls.
They howl with laughter and one of them curls her arm around one of Jett's.
"Ugh," I say, by way of comment. "If I were being honest, it's not even the girls here that you have to worry about. It's the ones in Miami, Boston, L.A., Dallas—"
"Okay, I get it." Indie shrugs. "I'm just saying that Theo seems really sweet."
"He is a nice guy. I'll give you that."
Olivier slides me my drink and heads off to help another customer. It's only Tuesday, but the bar is starting to get busy. I sip the tart, sweet champagne cocktail and look over at Indie, who is studying me.
"Do you have a crush on Theo?" she asks. “I like him, but I don’t want to intrude.”
"Me?" I grin and shake my head. "Nah. I like someone a little... more experienced."
"What does that mean? I thought you were still doing a no hockey players ever thing."
I cut her off with a look. "I am."
"Then what gives?"
I tilt my head. "Promise you won't tell?"
"Uh, yes." Her eyes widen. "Do you have a thing for that silver fox that keeps checking us out every time we're at the coffee shop near the arena?"
"Ew! No!" My face contorts. "I've been thinking of asking someone I know to help me rid myself of my v-card, okay?"
"Who?" Indie whispers.
I check behind me to make sure He Who Will Not Be Named didn’t somehow appear. Then I hiss, "Thorne."
She snarfs a little champagne and coughs on it. "Alex Thorne? As in your brother's teammate? And the guy you claim to hate?"
"Keep your voice down. You'd make the worst spy."
She bites her lip and snickers. "I really would. I can't keep a secret to save my life."
"Indie!!"
"Okay, shh." She giggles. "You're serious about Thorne? He is very commanding and sexy. Those tats on his arms are pretty yummy. And the way he wears a pair of gray sweatpants does something for me."
I roll my eyes. "Thanks for the support, I guess. But I picked him because he's clearly experienced. I overheard two puck bunnies comparing notes." I make a face. "Ugh, I grossed myself out."
"Were they talking about his giant cock?"
"What the hell?!" I glance behind us. "Jesus."
"What? I have a little thing called the internet and it says he's packing heat and he knows how to use it."
"That's disgusting."
"Well, it has to be pretty impressive to wow you. You have Thorne saved in your phone as ‘Hockey Satan’."
I snort. "I do."
She stands up, tugging my arm. "Come on."
"Where?"
"To see if Hockey Satan is here." She arches her brows, not giving up as I try to weigh myself down.
"Jeez, let me grab my drink," I grumble. "And just so you're aware, I haven't decided to tell him yet."
Indie stops, then reverses back to the bar. She waves down Olivier. "Can we get four shots of something strong, but tasty?"
Olivier crooks a smile. "Coming right up."
He assembles tequila, pineapple juice, and habanero peppers, then shakes and strains them into four shot glasses. When he pushes them across the counter, he says, "Et voilà."
"You are a darling angel face and we don't deserve you." Indie turns to me. "One for courage, one for good luck."
"You're trying to get me hammered!"
"Mollie, I fucking love you." She hands me a shot glass. "And I'm trying to make you tipsy enough to let go a little. You're so uptight."
"And uptight girls don't get picked for the ball?"
"Drink your shot, weirdo."
The first shot is strong and hot, but surprisingly fruity. We clink shot glasses for good luck before downing the second one, and it makes my eyes burn.
With that, Indie starts towing me into the back room. The place is packed now. We slip into the back room, which has people jammed into booths and at tables, and Mitch working the small back bar.
"What is going on? It's so busy tonight!"
A guy I've never seen overhears me and answers, shouting to be heard over the crowd. "World Cup! It's the US versus Argentina tonight."
"And that's... soccer?" I ask, scrunching my nose. Whoops, I'm starting to feel the shots now. I giggle.
The man gives me a look like I just stepped on his foot. Indie pulls me toward the booths.
"The Seattle men's soccer team is here. I recognize some of the players." She lifts her brows and inclines her head toward a booth. "And there's the Havoc. Dunno where the rest of the team is, but there's the Huxley brothers, their ladies, and Hockey Satan."
Thorne glances my way, but doesn't see me. It's ultra packed in here and the owners have put out the flat-screen TVs they keep here for special events.
"I'm not sure this is such a good idea—" I turn to find Indie brushing her hair behind her ear and beaming at a handsome stranger. Great. Maybe I should go back to the main bar.
"Hey. Are you here to see the football match?"
I turn and look into the eyes of a very good-looking guy with dark hair and a heavy accent. He smiles at me when I blush.
"Uh... yes? Yeah." I set my drink down on the nearest table, feeling like I've had enough. "I'm here with my friend. She's talking to..." I wave at her.
"She's talking to Kyle. He's on the Seattle Silverbacks." He leans closer, taking my hand in his. "I am too. Miguel."
"Pleasure to meet you. I'm—"
A steel band wraps around my waist and yanks me backward. "Nope. She's going home."
I look behind me and…
Oh.
I've definitely attracted Hockey Satan's attention now.
He's holding me against the granite wall of his chest and glaring daggers at Miguel. Miguel looks between us, winks, and turns away. Thorne whips me around, looking incensed.
"What are you doing here?"
I snicker. "Having a good night until you came over. I was meeting new friends!"
Thorne's face reddens. "You're not allowed to make friends with these guys. Soccer players are way worse than hockey players."
Jett, who's appeared at Thorne's side, shrugs at his assessment. "I'd say it's about equal."
"Would you shut it?" Thorne hisses. He leans in close to me. "Let me smell your breath."
"No thanks, Mom." I stick my tongue out at him.
He sneers. "You're drunk."
"Duh. It's a bar?" I wave at our surroundings.
"Are you alone? Or is your friend here?"
I cross my arms. "She's somewhere."
Thorne leans over to Jett and whispers something. Jett nods. "I'll get her home."
"Good." Thorne eyes me. "Come on, we're going."
My jaw drops. "What?? I'm fine!"
"Nope. If Beck saw you like this, he'd carry you out over his shoulder to get you out of here if he had to. So that's what I'm going to do."
"You aren't the boss—" I squeal as Thorne picks me up and slings me over his shoulder like I’m a sack of dirt. "Thorne! Put me down!"
Thank god I'm wearing jeans because he ignores me, grunting as he pushes his way through the crowd. He is in a mood.
He doesn’t stop or put me down, even when we’re out of The Secret History. My cheeks burn with embarrassment and indignation. He hauls me down a flight of stairs into a parking garage, then finally comes to a stop at his SUV. Only then does he set me on my feet.
I sway, throwing out a hand to steady myself. "Whoa."
"That's what you get for downing a bunch of tequila," he barks, opening the passenger door for me. "Get in."
"God, it was just a couple shots. You're blowing this way out of proportion."
He steps closer, getting in my space. "Like hell it was. You need to be more careful."
"I don't want to be careful. Maybe I'm tired of being a good girl." I plant my fists on my hips.
"You have no idea what those guys were thinking. I could see it in their eyes."
"What? That I'm ready to flirt? Because it's true." I tilt my head. "Maybe I'm ready for more than that."
"Not with those guys. Those guys are..." His mouth tightens. "You're a good girl, Mollie. You don't want to hook up with anybody in that bar."
I wasn't going to do this tonight. I've been circling it for weeks, picking it up and putting it down. But I do it now, because of the tequila.
I put my hand on his chest and look up into his baby blue eyes. "What about you, Thorne? What if you're the one I wanted to talk to?"
"You're drunk." He shakes his head.
"Maybe I needed a little liquid courage to ask you the question I've had on the tip of my tongue for a month."
"Oh yeah?" His eyes pierce right through me. “And what would that be, troublemaker?"
This is it. I smooth my hands down my jeans and lick my lips.
"I want you to be my first, Thorne. I… I want you to take my virginity."
I just—say it. It comes out wrong, too fast, not at all how I rehearsed it in the shower.
His jaw drops a little and he freezes for several seconds. His brows draw together. "I... what?"
"My first time? I want it to be you." I blush, leaning in and touching his chest again. “I've thought about it a lot.”
He swallows, then slowly shakes his head. "Get in the car, Squeak."
Thorne backs away and walks around the SUV.
I gape at him. Did he just... turn me down?
Oh god. He did.
"Squeak!" I jump at the sound of his voice. "Get in the fucking car.” He sounds angry. “Please."
My whole body flushing hot, I get in the passenger seat and slam the door. Thorne clears his throat, pointedly staring straight ahead. “Put your seatbelt on,” he growls.
When I do, he reverses the SUV and smoothly drives out of the garage toward my apartment.
I want to bury my face in my arms and run away. I never thought that he would just… deny me.
I sink into my seat, hoping that a giant sinkhole opens up and eats us both. That’s the only way to salvage this moment. Alas, the road under us seems sturdy as we keep driving.
I look up. The sky is hazy, with thick smoke rising high into the night.
Thorne scowls. “Something’s on fire. It smells like smoke.”
“No kidding.” Fire trucks wail, sounding very close.
Thorne turns the corner and stops. The building is fully engulfed, flames licking the upper windows, smoke rising black against the night sky.
There's a low roar underneath the sirens, the occasional crack of something giving way inside the walls.
A crowd is gathered on the far sidewalk, their faces turned up, quiet the way people get when they're watching something they can't stop.
A patrol officer stands in the middle of the street.
I gasp. “My building! Oh god, my books!”
Unlocking the door, I burst out of the car, staggering toward my apartment building. My heart feels like it’s frozen in my chest.
“Wait!” Thorne scrambles out of the car, hurrying after me. I only make it a few steps before he grabs me, his big hands shackling me around the upper arms. “Mollie, you can’t go in there. It’s still on fire.”
“But…” I turn to him, my eyes filling with tears. “But my apartment! My whole life! I have to try to save anything I can.”
He slowly shakes his head. “I can’t let you, Squeak.”
A tear bursts free and runs down my face. I tug at my arm. “You don’t know that!”
“I do.” He looks back toward my apartment, his shoulders tense. “I think you should come home with me for tonight.”
“What? No!”
“Yes. I’m not letting you check on your apartment right now. And Beck and Rosie are asleep. Where else are you going to go?”
“I…” I look toward my apartment. Another fire truck is turning down the street. As much as I don’t want to take his advice, I don’t really have a lot of choices right now. He opens the door to his SUV, waving me inside. Once I shut the door, he hops in. “I could… go to a hotel? Or Indie’s.”
“Why would you do that when I’m already right here?” He puts the SUV in gear. “Text Beck while I drive.”
“And where am I supposed to sleep?”
For the first time since the fire, he looks vaguely amused. “Don’t worry, Squeak. I have a spare bedroom with a door that locks… from either side.”
“Wh— uh–” I start to protest.
“I’m kidding. It’ll be fine.” And with that, he pulls out, heading away from the wailing sirens.