Page 100 of Slap Shot
“Fuck you.” I laugh and hit her in the face with a pillow. She yelps and launches one back at me. “I’m not dying my hair.”
“I couldn’t pass up the joke. Tell me your resolution. I promise I won’t make fun of you, especially with how selfless those other ones are.”
“I’d like to start dating again. I’ve always liked having a significant other, and I think this is the year I put myself back out there.”
“Why haven’t you been dating anyone?” she asks.
“Haven’t really felt like it after my last breakup. Plus, you and Lucy are here. Bringing someone else around is disrespectful.”
I don’t add the other part.
The admission that not a single woman has caught my eye, because I’ve been thinking aboutherlately.
Nonstop, really.
Wanting to touch her. Wanting to taste her. Wanting to wrap my arms around her and kiss her until she’s dizzy and forgets her name.
I’m not supposed to want those things. Wanting those things goes against everything I asked from her when she started working for me, and I’ve adhered to that boundary I put in place.
But as someone who’s always followed the goddamn rules, who’s always been so fuckinggood, thinking about something I can’t have makes me want her even more.
“Am I cockblocking you?” Madeline asks. “Shit. I’m sorry.”
“You’re not.”
“It sounds like I am.”
I grab my phone off the table. I unlock it, pull up Instagram, click on my message requests, and toss it her way. “Trust me.”
She frowns and looks at the screen. “What is this?’
“Proof you’re not cockblocking me. Hundreds of those messages are from women in DC. Hundreds more are from cities where I’m playing on a given night. If I felt like finding someone to date… someone to fuck… someone to pass the time with for a while, I could. And I haven’t wanted to.”
“‘I’d like it if you spanked me, baby. Or I could spank you,’” she reads, and she’s trying not to laugh. “Please don’t tell me that’s what all of these messages say.”
“I haven’t looked through them, but they might.”
“Damn.” Madeline grins. “You really are a bombshell.”
“Shut up.”
“I’m serious. You could have anyone you wanted. You’re like a pussy magnet,” she says, and my entire body heats when she says that word. “Does sliding into a guy’s DMs and making sexual comments actually work?”
“I don’t know. Some of the guys on the team like it. They’ve got a girl in every city.”
“It’s sad. All those prospects in your DMs, and you don’t have anyone to kiss at midnight. They’d be over here before the ball dropped if you asked, but you’re stuck with me.”
“I haven’t kissed anyone at midnight in a few years,” I admit. “Am I missing something good?”
“You’re asking the wrong person. I haven’t kissed anyone at midnight since before Lucy was born. I’m destined for another year of mediocre luck.”
The host gives us the three-minute warning, and I stare at Madeline from across the couch.
Feels like I’m always staring at her these days.
An hour ago, I was exhausted. Now, I’m buzzing with energy. Wide awake and willing to sacrifice sleep if it means hanging out with her.
She’s beautiful with her hair down and her silk pajama set. I’m not sure why I inch closer to her. I’m not sure why I get in her space, but I’m drawn to her like a magnet, and I can’t stop myself.
