TWO CARTER #2
“Is that what we’re calling it now?” I roll my eyes, feeling the tension ebb away with the banter.
It’s easier to deflect than to confront the fact that maybe I’m just as reckless with my heart as Mike is with his fidelity.
“Last I checked, you were trying to juggle three women at once, plus a girl who considered you her boyfriend. I can’t believe you haven’t been caught before now. ”
“Hey, it’s an art form,” he grins, unapologetic. His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he fishes it out, quickly glance at the screen. “And speaking of art, I’ve got a masterpiece waiting for me, two actually. Not going out with the boys tonight, I’ve got plans.”
“Plans,” I echo, smirking as his grin widens into something downright wolfish. “I don’t think I want to know.”
“Probably not.” Mike slaps me on the shoulder on his way past.
But as the front door closes behind him a few minutes later, I can’t help but wonder if maybe there’s a lesson to be learned from Mike’s relentless pursuit of pleasure.
Shit, what am I even thinking? I grab my wallet from the top of my dresser and head downstairs to wait for Finn. If nothing else, a night out will clear my head.
When I got drafted by the new Las Vegas team, I wondered if I’d even like the city.
I’d never been before, and I’m not much for heat or crowds, but it’s grown on me.
We usually frequent bars off the main boulevard which I generally prefer because they’re quieter and you can talk to the person sitting beside you without yelling.
The bars in and around the casinos are full of tourists and loud.
But when you want to disappear in a throng of people, they’re ideal.
“Plan is to grab a drink, scope the scene, and then—” Finn starts, already raising his voice.
“Wade through a sea of sweaty bodies and spilled drinks while trying not to think about tomorrow’s practice?” I interrupt.
“That too,” he says, clapping a hand on my shoulder with enough force to push away some of my brooding.
As we jostle past people, all thoughts of Mia, hockey, and everything else recede to the back of my mind.
Finn spots a few of the guys from the team in a back corner and leads the way.
Before I can say puck, I’ve got a beer in one hand and a bunny under the free arm, but I’m not interested, so I politely disentangle myself, screaming some sort of excuse in her direction before I turn to walk away, ignoring the look of disappointment on her face.
I should feel shitty, but I don’t. I didn’t come here to get laid, regardless of Finn’s intent for tonight.
“Hey,” Finn nudges me with his elbow and tips his head in her direction. “Remember, we’re here to forget, not to brood.”
“Who says I’m brooding?” I tip my beer to my lips and gulp back half the bottle while I scan the sea of bopping heads.
“Your face, mostly,” he fires back. “Come on, Carter. Loosen up. Maybe you’ll find someone tonight who makes you glad you’re single.” With another slap to my back, he seems satisfied that he’s done his best friend’s duty. “Here,” he hands me a shot and another beer.
I knock back the bitter liquid, the burn scorching my throat before I chase it with the cold brew. “You’re trying to get me drunk,” I accuse, but there’s no bite to my words.
“Absolutely,” he admits with unapologetic honesty. “Best way to enjoy the night.”
“Hungover is not the best way to practice tomorrow though.”
“You have all night and tomorrow morning to get over it.”
I survey the crowd, noting the sway of hips and the loop of arms around necks.
This really isn’t my scene; it never has been.
In fact, meeting Mia in bar much like this one had been a fluke.
Give me the cold, the ice, the adrenaline—that’s where I thrive.
Not here, amidst the press of flesh seeking connection in the most transient ways and music thumping through my bones.
But my friend’s not about to give up. “Come on,” he urges, planting his hands between my shoulder blades and shoving me toward the dance floor. “Let’s find you a rebound.”
We maneuver our way into the crowd of mostly women on the dance floor, and I try to lose myself in the movement. I can pretend just for tonight. Besides, if I show a little interest, it will get Finn off my back.
“Anyone catch your eye?” My best friend yells close to my ear, his eyes scrutinizing the crowd with practiced ease.
“Still looking,” I lie. It’s easier than admitting that every face is a blur.
We approach a group of four women who appear to be having a good time, and the heat from the gyrating bodies around me seeps into my skin as I start to relax.
“Hey!” A delicate hand lands on my shoulder, her grip squeezing.
I turn, bracing myself to dismiss another groupie, angling for a chance with a player.
But I choke on my words when I spot her—she's a knockout standing there in the middle of the chaos.
Her wild blonde hair, which was likely sleek and orderly when she first arrived, now cascades in tousled waves, partially tucked behind her ears, damp tendrils clinging to her flushed pink cheeks.
Bright blue eyes, slightly glazed, sparkle with unrestrained excitement.
“Hey, you’re cute. Wanna dance?” she blurts out, shouting to be heard, her words slightly muddled.
I chuckle softly. She’s pretty, and I think she’s had a few drinks already tonight.
Finn gives me a shove, his grin egging me on.
Fuck it.
“Sure,” I say, finally allowing a genuine smile to break through. “Let’s dance.”