Scored (V-Card Diaries 1)

I glance back at Ian, kind of wishing I could tell him that I think he’s as nice, funny, and in shape as any of the fabulous gay guys I know.

Who knows?

Maybe, if he says yes, I’ll have a chance to tell him all of those things and more.

Preferably, while we’re both naked.

Chapter 14

Ian

As Cameron plays a round of darts with a woman he picked up with his new flirting mindset not five minutes after we cruised into Spliffy’s, the neighborhood dive, I want to bolt out of the darkened bar. I want to jog back across the street to Evie, drag her into a quiet room, and lock the door until we’ve talked this through like rational adults.

Though, considering the way my cock responds every time she so much as glances my way with her new bedroom eyes, maybe being locked in a room alone together isn’t a good idea.

No matter what she wants or what I want, sleeping together would be a disaster. There are too many things that could go wrong, too many ways we could hurt each other or damage our relationship with her brother beyond repair. And even if Derrick weren’t in the picture, I’m on the rebound. I just ended a three-year commitment. I’m not ready to jump back into another one, and Evie isn’t a casual-fuck kind of girl. She’s a virgin who’s waited years for the perfect first time, for God’s sake, and I can’t give her that.

I love her as a friend, but I’m not in love with her.

And I’ve never been anyone’s first.

The one time I realized I was dating a virgin, I ended the relationship immediately. I was only twenty-one at the time, stressed about being a rookie, and not in the right head space to take on that kind of responsibility. And things aren’t that different eleven years later. I’m older and wiser, but I’m still stressed about where my team is headed—or not headed—and wanting to make the most of my last years in the NHL before I’m put out to pasture.

And Derrick and I aren’t just best friends. We work together. He’s part of team management and technically one of my bosses. I can’t afford to alienate or enrage him for a whole host of reasons, not the least of which is that my work life is already a hot mess.

Yes, art therapy went pretty well today, but our group therapy sessions are going nowhere fast and the fighting during practice hasn’t slowed down at all. If anything, some of the guys seem angrier after being forced to talk about their feelings and more likely to fly off the handle.

So that’s it. My decision is made.

I can’t even consider Evie’s request.

I’ll wait until she arrives and pull her aside. I’ll tell her I’m flattered, but that I care too much about her to put our relationship at risk that way. And if she insists our relationship will be fine, I can always fall back on the fact that I know what it’s like to have sex and she doesn’t.

I understand how sex intensifies things, confuses things, and leads to all kinds of stupid decisions you’d never make if you’d kept your dick—or your pussy—in your pants.

Yep. That’s what I’ll tell her, but I’ll do it in a way that doesn’t make her feel annoyed or hurt or condescended to. I can pull that off. I’m good with things like this. You don’t grow up riding herd over seven little brothers and sisters without learning a thing or two about peaceful conflict resolution and Evie isn’t an unreasonable person. Even if she’s disappointed, she’ll see my point.

Now, I just need her to hurry up and get here already…

How long does it take to change clothes and throw on some makeup? I mean, it took Whitney at least an hour but Evie’s more low maintenance than my ex and the other women were already dressed.

I’m about to shoot Evie a text asking for an ETA when I hear a voice that sounds like Harlow’s shout from the front of the crowded bar, “Stop it, asshole. They’re not interested. Get the hell out of our way.”

I sit up higher, stomach balling into a cold knot as I catch a glimpse of Harlow’s shiny brown hair just visible over the shoulders of two enormous men.

A second later, I’m off my stool and across the room.

I’m blocked by a table full of guys watching the baseball game and a couple making out like they’re trying to leap down each other’s throats, but I get close enough to see Harlow with her hands propped on her hips, glaring up at the shorter of the two men. The taller one with the blond buzz cut has his arm extended to press against the wall, blocking Evie and Jess into the corner by the filthy window.