Chapter 2
Two
Gianna
Professor Donahue has been droning on and on about marketing analytics for nearly an hour, and I have been pretending to take notes almost that entire time. Instead, I'm scrolling through Instagram on my phone that is currently shielded from my professor's view by my laptop.
It's been four months, and every damn day, I check all of Daemon Lucero's social media accounts. Not to mention, I've also added the NHL app to my phone and added ESPN to my Hulu subscription.
Before New Year's Eve, the only hockey games I watched were the ones Shauna dragged me to. Ever since I met that gorgeous hockey god, I have yet to miss a Hudson Huskies game.
Instead of the usual clubs I used to frequent, I've been spending my nights out at sports bars. If none of the televisions in the bar are playing the hockey game, I've been shamelessly flashing my cleavage until one of the workers changes the station.
Somehow, I even convinced my boss at the coffee shop to add a television in the corner of the seating area. I fed him some lie about attracting a new afternoon clientele for the early hockey games. He bought it, and thankfully my lie turned out to be true.
Daemon fucking Lucero has managed to get so far under my skin that I can't get him out. The man who fucked me like the world was ending before disappearing like a coward has literally consumed my every waking moment — and most of my naughty dreams — since I woke up alone in that cabin.
I tap my pen against my notebook repeatedly as the annoyance I've tried to suppress grows. I've been using his credit card number for Uber rides ever since I found it scrawled across the cutesy stationary on the bedside table.
However, I only use it on nights after I watch one of his games. If I go to an off-campus party, I use my own card to pay my way home.
I figure if he wanted me to stop, he'd cancel the card.
He hasn't.
Which means he's thinking about me too.
“Gianna,” someone sings my name softly.
I look up to see Jeremiah leaning across the aisle, his dark hair falling into his eyes. He's wearing a Boston Bears hoodie, and I want to roll my eyes at him. Everyone in this town bleeds hockey, but most of them are Hudson fans. Jere always has to be different.
“What?” I whisper.
“Are you coming out tonight or what?”
“Where are you going?”
“Rookie's. I agreed to take Kevin with me, so he's going to meet us there.”
I blink. “Who's Kevin?”
Jere rolls his eyes. “You have met Kevin several times already. He's the brother of my friend with benefits situationship?”
“Who?” I lean closer. “Is that Malcolm's brother?”
“No,” he scoffs, and someone behind us shushes him.
Jere completely ignores whoever it was and continues.
“Malcolm and I stopped seeing each other six months ago, girlie.
Kevin is Griffin's brother. You know Griffin, the guy I've been hooking up with for like two months? Jesus, Gi, do you listen to anything I say?”
My brow creases in confusion. “Do you mean the hockey brother? I thought that guy's name was Keegan.”
“It is Keegan. I said Keegan.”
I cover my mouth to conceal my laugh. “You literally just said Kevin.”
“No, I did not,” he scoffs again, waving me off.
“You really did,” I laugh, not hiding the sound this time, and I cringe when heads turn in our direction.
Professor Donahue clears his throat loudly and we both stop talking. Shaking my head, I go back to pretending to pay attention while Jere goes back to actually paying attention. He's so much better at this classroom setting than I am.
A few minutes later, my phone buzzes in my bag. When I find it in between my notebooks, I see the text from my sister Shauna.
Shauna: Sage wanted me to ask you if you’d like to come to dinner on Sunday at her and Maxton’s place. Max will be cooking.
I wrinkle my nose as I read the text over and over again. Sunday dinners are a new thing amongst the Georges’ children that only began after Sage and Maxton got engaged over Christmas.
The dinner consists of my sister, her husband, all his siblings, and their spouses being madly in love.
They talk about the future, their children, and their houses.
Add in the fact that Maxton glares at me the entire time like I personally offended him, and it sounds like a terrible way to spend a Sunday evening.
I guess, in a way, I did offend Maxton by going after his teammate, but spending a night with the over thirty crowd is an unorthodox punishment for my offense.
Me: Sorry, I can’t. I have plans that night. Give the kiddos a kiss from their favorite auntie.
I don't actually have plans on Sunday, but I'll make sure I find something to do that night.
The class finally comes to an end, and I shove my laptop into my backpack along with my notebook.
As I exit the classroom, Jeremiah runs up beside me in the hallway.
“So, have you decided if you are coming out with us tonight?” He glares at me.
“Do I have a choice?”
“No, not really. The fact that I asked you was more rhetorical — a formality of sorts,” he laughs, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.
As soon as we step outside, the cool May air hits my face, and I stop short to just bask in the sun. Jere clears his throat, but I hold up my hand. “Let me enjoy this gorgeous spring day for another minute before you tell me what my plans are for tonight.”
While the air is still crisp in the mornings on campus, it’s nearly three in the afternoon, and the sun is so warm that it almost makes me forget the bitter winter we just escaped.
“You’re so fucking weird,” Jeremiah grumbles.
Slowly, I open my eyes until I’m staring at him, and I hope he can see how unamused I am right now.
Of course, he doesn’t and continues talking like nothing is wrong.
“Kevin or Keegan or whatever his name is, he’s coming out with us tonight.
I thought maybe you can take him for a test ride and get out of this weird funk you’ve been in all semester. ”
“I'm always weird…” I shrug, waiting for him to elaborate as to what he means.
“Yeah, babe, I’m well aware of your weirdness. You’ve just been weirder than usual, like a beauty queen trying to keep her unplanned pregnancy with the star football player from her bestie.”
I punch him in the arm. “You’re a jackass, Jeremiah. I am not a beauty queen or pregnant, so your analogy is falling a little flat, babe.”
My best friend throws one of his signature smirks my way before he takes a few steps backwards. “I know, but I’m also right. Plus, if I found out you were hiding a hunky football player from me, we’d no longer be best friends.”
“What if I was hiding a pregnancy from you?” I bite back a smile as I watch his face morph from amused to horrified in half a second.
“Gianna, you better fucking not,” he snaps at me. “I am not ready to be an uncle, and we have too many partying days left before you become a mom.”
“Don’t worry.” I pat my stomach. “There will be no bun in this oven for a long, long time.”
“Better not be.”
We walk across campus together. There are groups of people sitting under trees lining the walkway as they study for finals. It’s what I should be doing tonight instead of going out with Jeremiah and Kevin-Keegan.
I'm so ready to graduate. I’m ready to be out on my own and not have to worry about my sister showing up at any given moment to scold me for my poor decisions.
Once we make it to the edge of campus where the historical brick buildings end and the rows of off-campus apartments begin, Jere turns to face me. His eyes sparkle with the same mischief and delight that they always do before a night of debauchery.
“So, I’ll see you tonight, right?” A wide smile splits his face as he bats his lashes at me.
I roll my eyes at him. “What time?”
“I told Keegan to meet us there at nine.”
Nodding, I start walking backwards away from him. “Where are we meeting again?”
“Rookies,” he calls out to me.
I stop my retreat. “Why? It’s not even a game night. Why would we go to a sports bar when neither of our teams are playing tonight?”
“Why wouldn’t we go to a place with a bunch of hot men?” Jere’s brows pull together and his hand rests on his popped hip in the sassy way he does.
A laugh bubbles out of me. “Aren’t you going with your bed buddies brother? Don’t you think his brother might get upset when you start trying to hook up with another dude in front of him?”
“Girl, I don’t need a man.” Now, Jere is the one to start taking backwards steps away from me. “But, you sure as hell do. Bye, bitch. I’ll see you later.”
With that, Jeremiah turns around and jogs down the street toward his apartment. This entire night is so that I can find a man, because my bestie thinks I’m being weird due to the fact that I haven’t had sex all semester.
Jere knows all about my tryst with the man on New Year’s Eve, but he doesn’t know that he is the reason for my four month long dry spell. I never get hung up on a guy like I am with Daemon, and I’m afraid that my friend won’t understand it.
Jeremiah Abernathy has been my friend since we ran into each other at a freshman hazing party before classes began almost four years ago. We were both doused in cheap smelling beer while we stood in the line waiting for the bathroom at one of the apartments not far from campus.
Since that day, he has been my ride or die. Not long after we met, we made a pact that we would experience everything that college has to offer us. Mostly, we were talking about the guys. We vowed not to get into a committed relationship until after we had our diplomas in hand.
Over the years, we’ve both succeeded in holding up our ends of that deal. We’ve had random hookups and long term fuck buddies, but neither of us have been in a real relationship during college.
None of the men I’ve met have interested me enough to go back on that vow. That was until Daemon Lucero crash landed into my atmosphere. Now, I can’t get my mind off of the damn guy no matter how hard I try.
Jere on the other hand has never strayed from the plan. If one of his regulars starts to catch feelings, he has always been quick to end his entanglement with them.
I wonder if he would feel the same if the man in question was as charming and attractive as the hockey player I met a few months ago.
After the party at Maxton’s childhood home, I looked up Daemon from the Hudson Huskies team, and my jaw hit the floor at everything I found.
Not only is he older than I expected, but he’s also been a professional hockey player for nearly twenty years; almost my entire life.
I was nearly three when he was drafted straight out of high school.
Our age difference doesn’t bother me, but now I understand why he made a point to ensure my age before we took off on the stolen snowmobile. Someone in his position can’t risk a scandal involving an underaged girl.
Daemon has had endorsements with some of the most prominent brands.
He’s from a small town in Minnesota, which apparently is not surprising due to the number of hockey players the state sends to the professional league.
His parents are still together, and he talks about them like they are still madly in love after close to fifty years together.
The only thing I can’t find about him online is his dating history.
According to the internet, Daemon has never had a public girlfriend during his career.
There is only one picture of him out with a woman, and I’m almost positive that the woman is Maxton’s fiance Sage.
Knowing that Max has been in love with her since they were kids, I doubt that was anything more than a friendly hangout.
When I find myself standing in front of my apartment building, I look around confused.
I don’t remember any of my walk home, because I was so zoned out thinking about Daemon.
Being able to walk home on autopilot is terrifying.
Along the way, I could have walked in front of a car without noticing, or I could have been kidnapped by an assailant I never heard coming.
My phone buzzes in my hand, and I unlock the screen as I head into the building. I’m thankful for the distraction from my downward spiral until I see who the text is from.
Shauna: Are you sure you can’t make it? What do you have going on Sunday night?
I huff out a breath as I enter my apartment. Dropping my bag onto the couch, I kick off my shoes before typing out a response.
Me: Well, aren’t you nosy today? If you must know, I have a date.
Her response is instant, and I immediately see the error in my lie.
Shauna: Gianna Michelle! You are full of shit! You don’t date, so try again.
Chewing on my cuticle the way I do whenever I’m nervous, I try to come up with an excuse that makes sense. She really didn’t need to use my full name, like I’m a petulant child.
Instead of defending myself, I opt to close my phone. Tonight is my last hurrah before finals start, and I refuse to let Shauna ruin this for me. Once I start exams, all my partying will have to come to a halt, so I’m determined to have a good time tonight.
Heading into my bedroom, I drop my phone on the bed and head into the bathroom. First, I’ll shower. After that, I need to find myself a hot outfit for the evening and get ready for a really wild night.