Pucked Over (Pucked 3)

“Right. We’ll talk about it in the morning. I gotta crash. I’ve got a workout at ten.” That’s a lie, but talking to my dad in this state isn’t productive. It’s not that useful when he’s sober, either. Looks like the rest of my weekend has gone to shit.Chapter 12Fluttery Eyed FearLILYAt one-thirty in the morning, I’m back in my room at Alex’s huge, nice house. Alone. Violet’s hives have finally subsided after a boatload of Benadryl, and everyone else has gone to bed. Probably to have awesome sex. I bet even Violet and Alex are having sex, though she still has a few welts on her face. I’d hate to be that stressed out over getting married.

I change into a pair of tights with a hole in the crotch and one of my T-shirts from high school. They still fit exactly the same since I haven’t grown even a little bit since then—not anywhere. I don’t have to pull down the sheets because they’re already messed up from earlier.

I still can’t believe I did that. Well, I can. It was part of my plan, but not quite so early in the evening. I figured it’d be later, like now. I step on something gushy and shriek. Jumping back, I discover the used condom.

“So gross,” I mutter to myself. At least he had the courtesy to tie it in a knot so the jizz didn’t ooze out and end up between my toes. I snap a picture of it beside my foot and send it to him with a frowny face. I don’t get anything back right away, which is kind of a disappointment.

I toss my phone on the bed and rummage through my bag, looking for face wash. I do the nightly routine, still bitter that everyone is getting action now but me. I leave the light on in the bathroom and pull the door mostly closed, leaving a sliver of illumination to guide me to bed. Of course I step on the stupid condom again.

I drop down on the comforter, the empty condom wrapper crinkling under me. I roll over, find it, and toss it on the floor. Now I have that awful spermicide crap on my hands. I should probably shower, but I don’t feel like it. I mash my face into the pillows. The scent of Randy’s cologne lingers. I close my eyes, tingles starting up as I think about the amazing sex.

Sadly, now I know just how mediocre it was with Benji, and how average his dick seems in comparison. I don’t know if all hockey players have giant man rods, but it seems to be the case from what Sunny reports and what I accidentally saw of Alex when I was a teenager.

As I ponder the size of man’s most useful appendage, my phone rings. I pick it up, and my stomach does that fluttery thing. It’s Randy. Calling me. I let it ring twice more before I answer. “Thanks for the rubbery gift.”

“Sorry, ’bout that. I usually clean up after myself, but the interruption made me sloppy. Next time I’ll be the good Boy Scout I am.”

I try to picture Randy as a Boy Scout. All I get is an image of him at twelve with a beard. “Pretty presumptuous assuming there’ll be a next time.”

“You didn’t have fun?”

“It was okay.” I rub my legs together, thinking about how good okay is.

He laughs. “You’re terrible for my ego. You know that, right?”

“If it’s anywhere as big as your trouser anaconda, you don’t need help in that area anyway.”

“Nice backhanded compliment. I’ll take it. How’s Vi?”

“She’s fine now. I think, anyway. It’s hard to tell with her. Alex is worried, but then that’s kind of how he is. I’m sorry you had to leave.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“We can still do dinner tomorrow, if you want.” I let it hang like it’s a question.

“Yeah, about that—”

My stomach sinks, and I get that thick feeling in my throat.

“Something’s kinda come up.”

“Oh. Yeah. Of course.” Maybe Randy lied about my performance being a ten out of ten.

“It’s family stuff. Otherwise—”

“You don’t have to explain.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m blowing you off. My dad showed up tonight, and I wasn’t expecting him.”

My relief worries me. “You don’t sound too happy about that. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. It’ll be fine—once he’s gone. He’s kind of an asshole, and I’m not sure how long I’m going to have to deal with him before he takes off, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It is what it is. I would much rather be taking you out.”

“Would it make you feel better if I told you it would’ve been hard to pull off anyway? We’re having some kind of retail therapy tomorrow to make Violet feel better, and that’ll probably go all day.”

Randy chuckles. “I’d tell you yes, but that’d be me lying. I guess we’ll have to try again another time.”