Page 10 of Off-Ice Misconduct


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Fuck. I’m getting pleasantly hard again.

“Soooo … remind me, what do we do with this thing?” she asks.

“Pasta. Shep here’s gonna boil us some pasta al dente, and I’m gonna do the cheese wheel honors like my mom taught me. You’ll see later.” I wink.

She blushes.

Shit. She’s never done that before. Not for me. Did Shep catch that? Ooooh, he fucking did. I’m so fucked. What are the chances it’s simply my masculine machismo affecting her today?

“I’ll get you a drink,” she says.

“Hey, I’d like something, too,” Shep complains.

“I’ll get you both a drink.” But she gives me a last look and takes off, still wearingmyjacket.

Shep puts an arm around me as we watch her walk off, her hips swaying, ass poking out of those shorts. It is a nice ass.

“You’re in trouble, my friend. Unless …” There’s an unasked question there. Would I consider Celeste?

“Nope. No way, dude. You know my policy.” A lot of hockey players like to settle down before their big break. I’m not one of them. Not anymore, at least. I’ve had boyfriends and girlfriends, but none of them understood my hockey schedule or my hockey dreams.

Plus, I get it. They wanted to come first, but they didn’t. Hockey comes first. I agreed with them when they said they wanted to be with someone who put them first. They deserved that, but it wasn’t gonna be me.

It was better for everyone.

Celeste will want to be put first, she deserves to be put first, I’m not the man to do it. I’ll just have to explain it to her. She’s a reasonable woman, I’m sure she’ll understand.

Okay, so, remember the reasonable woman comment? I stand by my thought that Celeste is usually reasonable, but not when unintentionally—very unintentionally—embarrassed in front of her entire sorority.

The cheese wheel was a fucking hit—just sayin’—and I served it up shirtless, something I thought would draw more money. Totally did. But Freshman Andy showed, sometime around when we were doing keg stands—that’s where we get tipped upside down and have the keg spout shoved into our mouths for an epic chug.

I was more than tipsy and greeted him with a sloppy hello kiss. Celeste—across the room, still in my jacket—slipped away. It was Bender who pulled me away from Freshman Andy to tell me.

When I found her, she was crying. It ate at me so hard that I wanted to tell her I could date her. What would be the harm? People date and break up all the time. I’d be proud to have Celly on my arm for a while. But dammit, I had to be honest with her.

I’m a fucking conundrum. There’s shady-ass shit I do that I don’t lose a wink of sleep over, but leading Celeste on, I would.

I explained my policy on dating and why I don’t. Her eyes darkened, and I swear she looked around for something to stab me with.

“What was this all about then?” she demanded, gesturing toward the jacket.

“You were cold. I was being a gentleman.”

Her lip trembled, and I wanted to hurl myself off a cliff. “I thought …” She trailed off. “Fuck. I’m an idiot. I told all my friends …God.”

She covered her hands with her face, and I crumbled inside. “Dude, look I?—”

“Dude?Dude?”

“I call everyone dude, Celeste. Everyone.”

Her arm pulled back, swinging with ferocity I didn’t have the heart to dodge. I could have, even in my inebriated state, but I’m used to taking a hit anyway, so I let her.

That’s what it took for me to understand—literally being punched in the face—that Celeste didn’t want to be just anyone to me.

Was I a naïve fuckhead? Yeah, I could take responsibility for that much, but I wasn’t an intentional asshole. There’s a fucking difference. But I love Celeste—as a fucking dear friend—and I was willing to be her fall guy.

She threw my jacket on the floor and poured her sugary drink all over it. “I think you should leave, Ace.”