Pucked Up (Pucked 2)

“You’re lucky. Imagine what it would be like to know your daughter is dating a half-man-half-yeti who’s boned fifty percent of the women in the continental US.”

I ignore her dumb joke. “I haven’t had sex with that many people.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“I’m sure I haven’t had sex with a hundred and fifty million people. But Lily thinks I’m playing Sunny.”

“Of course she does. It’s not like your reputation with the ladies is going to evaporate because you’ve started dating someone.”

The sun peeks through the trees and hits the windshield. I flip the visor down and put on my sunglasses to keep from being blinded. “I haven’t been with anyone since I met Sunny.”

“I know that, but Lily doesn’t. You’re still at the bars with your buddies all the time, and the pictures with the bunnies haven’t stopped showing up. And then there are the parties at Lance’s with the mostly naked chicks. Where the media is concerned, you’re not acting like a guy in a relationship. People believe what they see, even if it’s not true. You know that better than anyone. It’s the situations you get yourself in to that are the real problem, Buck. Anyways, we’re off topic. This is about the vegetable dude and Sunny going camping. You said they dated in high school?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re sure about that?” Her tone makes me nervous.

“That’s what Sunny said. Why?”

“I think Sunny only had one boyfriend in high school.”

“So she didn’t do a lot of dating. That’s not a bad thing.” The asshole in me likes the idea that Sunny didn’t get around during those prime years for hormonal experimentation.

“Not necessarily . . .” She hedges. “Hold on a second. I need to ask Alex something.” She covers the receiver. Her voice is muffled and then she’s clear again. “Charlene returned the purse. I’m talking to Buck now. No. No. Don’t even.” There’s some fumbling. “I won’t touch the MC for a week if you do that! I mean it! Stop.” When Violet turns her attention back to me, she’s slightly breathless. I don’t want to think about what was happening on the other end of the line. “I was right. Kale’s the only guy Sunny dated in high school.”

“But that was a long time ago, so it shouldn’t be a big deal, right? She’s gotta be over him. She said she broke it off, so that has to count for something. Apparently he got his ass dumped again recently, so it shouldn’t be a big deal that they’re going on this camping trip.” I need some confirmation this is going to be okay.

“I don’t know, Buck.”

Her lack of confidence is disconcerting. “You’re not making me feel better about this.”

“Did she tell you when they broke up?” Violet asks.

“During senior year, I think? That was two years ago, though. That’s plenty of time to move on, isn’t it?” Two years seems like a long time, but then that’s me. I waited all of two days to move on when I found out the girl I’d been dating was screwing around with half the hockey team at her college, two states away. Then I fucked all the depression out. It wasn’t the most effective strategy, but it kept me busy. That was five years ago. Then I got drafted.

“In theory.”

“Why in theory?”

“They started dating when Sunny was a freshman and Kale was a sophomore. He stayed an extra semester after graduation so he could be with her. He planned to take the last semester off to work and then they would go to college together. She broke up with him because he was being a clinger and not very motivated or something. That’s Alex’s version of the story. I don’t know Sunny’s side.” I must not say anything for a long time as I process this shitload of important information. “They dated for four years, Buck,” Vi finally adds.

“I can do the math.” That’s almost as long as I’ve been playing professional hockey. “I can’t believe he never gave her a goddamn orgasm. Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with that guy, and why the hell is she in a camping trailer with him for a week? We’ve been together for like, what, three months, maybe a little more? I’ve already given her, like, fifty. She should’ve bailed on that trip and come with me.”

“Unfortunately, it’s not all about the orgasms.”

“Well, it should be. That’s the first thing I give myself in the morning, and the last thing I take care of at night. They’re essential. Orgasms are like breathing.” I’m panicking. I know this. I’m also sharing a lot of information I probably shouldn’t—not that this whole conversation hasn’t been an epic overshare. We should be drunk so we can forget all the crap we’ve just told each other.

“Look, I know this is hard for you to understand. You’ve been slutting it up for a long time, but in real relationships that don’t involve bunnies, it’s about a lot more than the number of orgasms you can provide. Sex is awesome. Orgasms are awesome. Someone else providing those orgasms is the best thing ever, but that’s not the only thing that matters.”