Pucked Over (Pucked 3)

“Oh. Wow. Good to know.” She nods like this means something to her. “So…” She bites her lip and gives me what I suspect is supposed to be a coy smile. “Do you have any other ink you’re hiding?”

I fight an eye roll. “I only have the sleeve right now.”

“Does it go all the way to your shoulder?” Her fingertips slide under my cuff. She’s trying to segue, and I’m too preoccupied with the fact that she’s not Lily—and why that matters—to assess what’s coming.

“Yeah. It’s a full.”

She leans in until her breasts press against my arm and her lips are at my ear. “Maybe you wanna go back to your room and I can show you my ink?”

Miller’s long gone with Sunny. Waters and Westinghouse are bromancing it up in their room since their girlfriends are back in Chicago. There’s no one here to give me any grief about hooking up. Lily and I aren’t a thing. I haven’t seen her in more than a month, and she’s not falling all over herself to see me. It shouldn’t be an issue for me to bag a random and release some of the pent-up tension I’ve been carrying around since last goddamn month.

It shouldn’t. So I don’t know why I stall instead of saying yes right away.

“It’s okay if you have a roommate. I’m not shy.” She bats her abnormally long eyelashes.

“I don’t have a roommate.”

“Great. So I can have you all to myself.” She hooks her purse over her shoulder, looking at me expectantly.

Lance has his arm around the other girl, his hand resting near her tit. He looks at me, then at her, then back at me. “You out, Ballistic?”

“Uh, I don’t—” I should feel something other than conflict, like maybe some kind of reaction in my pants, but there’s nothing. Not even a hint of hard-on happening.

Lance eyes her again. “You check your messages lately?”

I don’t know why he’s asking me that. I’ve got this weird feeling in my stomach like I drank too much. That could explain the lack of action in my pants, except I’ve only had three beers. That’s nothing. I can drink at least six before I start feeling it.

I reach behind me for my jacket and feel around in the pocket for my phone. The girl who thinks she’s going to get naked with me puts her palm on my thigh and squeezes. “You can check your messages on the way to your room, right?”

I ignore her and her wandering hand and look at my phone. I checked it a couple hours ago after the game on the way to the bar, but I had nothing—not even a good luck message from Lily, which kind of sucked. Now there are fifteen new messages, all of which have appeared in the last half hour. I don’t know what the deal is with the reception here in Canada. Miller warned me it can be wonky sometimes. It’s weird, like this country creates some kind of phone limbo.

Some of the messages are from Miller—but his contact is all screwy, coming up as a number instead of his name. Several are from another number that’s vaguely familiar. The girl beside me is still talking. Her hand’s still on my thigh. I move it off because it’s distracting. “Gimme a minute.”

I skip the messages from Miller and check the other ones.Msg me when u get this. I can take Uber 2uidk what hotel ur atSunny isn’t answringLft u vmGot hotel addy. On my way, ok?“Fuck.” A horrible feeling slams into me like a puck to the groin. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I scrub a palm over my face.

The girl puts a hand on my arm. “Is everything okay? Why don’t we go upstairs?”

“Can you back off?” I’m way loud. And angry. For a lot of reasons I don’t understand.

She blinks a few times, her caterpillar eyelashes fluttering. “What’s your problem?”

My phone beeps with another message:here“I gotta go.” I push my chair away from the table. “I’ll get you for the drinks tomorrow, yeah?” I say to Lance.

“Sure thing, Ballistic. You okay?”

“I don’t know yet.”

The girl, who’s clueless, stands up like she’s ready to come with me. I hold it up, prepared to shut her down, but Lance grabs her by the wrist and pulls her close. “He’s got shit to take care of. You can stay here with us, gorgeous.”

She’s does that blinking thing again, but seems too stunned or maybe confused to argue. Lance pulls her down in the chair beside him. I owe him one.

Grabbing my jacket, I make my way to the exit. I don’t want Lily to see Lance with the girls. Nothing happened, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel like shit about what might or might not have if I hadn’t gotten her messages. I hit the call button and bring the phone to my ear.