Pucked Off (Pucked 5)

Poppy closes the dishwasher and looks at me. “Um, I’m supposed to have dinner with April tonight.”

“Right. Okay.” I tap on the counter.

“We’ll probably be done by seven, though.”

“Yeah?” The anxious feeling that’s tensing my shoulders eases a bit.

“I could text when we’re done, and if you still want to see me—”

“I’ll still want to see you.”

She gives me a shy smile. “Okay.”

I end up driving her into work because she can catch a ride with April on the way home. I kiss her in the parking lot until she tells me she’s going to be late.

I’m running late for skate practice now too, but nothing seems to matter at the moment. I have a good thing going, and her name is Poppy. I get to see her again. Tonight. I speed back to my house to get my gear, and then book it to the rink.

I finally check my phone as I’m walking into the arena, having turned it off when Tash messaged during dinner last night. My good mood deflates when I see twenty new messages and two voicemails from her. I also have messages from Randy and Miller.

I don’t check any of them before I hit the locker room to change because I don’t want what’s left of my post-Poppy high to disappear.

“What the fuck, Romance?” Randy asks when I enter.

“Huh?” I drop my bag beside him.

“Thanks for letting us know you weren’t coming to get us.” Miller slams his locker shut.

“Oh, shit.” I totally forgot I was supposed to pick them up for practice. I scramble for a reason because neither of them knows what I was up to last night, or this morning. “I shut off my phone last night ’cause Tash wouldn’t stop messaging me, and I just turned it back on. I totally forgot.”

Miller scoffs and gives Randy a look. “Tash? What kind of fucking bullshit are you pulling, Romance?” He jams his helmet on and clomps off, red faced.

“Jesus. What’s his problem?” Things have been less tense since Sunny had the baby, but now he’s pissy with me again. I rush to put on my equipment so I’m not late hitting the ice.

“Have you checked social media today?” Randy laces up his skates.

“No. Why? What’s going on?”

“What do you think? You went out with that Poppy girl and didn’t think it was going to be all over the bunny sites?”

“Oh, shit.” Now the onslaught of Tash messages makes sense.

I think about the middle of the night kitchen encounter: me naked, Poppy in just my shirt. Me contemplating how good it would feel to be inside without the condom, assuring her everyone was asleep in her neighborhood. “Is it bad? Like, are there bad pictures?”

“Depends on what you consider bad, I guess.”

“Does any of it make Poppy look slutty?”

Randy strokes his beard and regards me curiously. “No. Not really. I mean, there’s lots of you all up on her.”

“Up on her how?”

“Like normal date stuff, I guess.”

When I give him a blank look, he sighs and looks uncomfortable.

“Getting all touchy, kissing her, that kind of thing.”

Oh, thank God. Nothing from the kitchen. “So? I don’t get what the problem is.” The locker room is emptying fast, and Randy and I are getting looks.

Waters pops his head in. “Let’s go, guys. You needed to be on the ice two minutes ago.”

“Be right there.” I hurry to tie my laces.

Randy stands and grabs his helmet and stick. “When was the last time you took a girl out for dinner?”

I grab my helmet, stick, and gloves. My skates are loose, but we’re out of time. I don’t think taking a girl to The Olive Garden when I was a teenager counts. And that was only once.

“I don’t know. Never? The last time I took anyone anywhere it was Tash, and that was Waters’ engagement party and the whole team was there, so it wasn’t like an actual date-date or anything. Plus things got kind of fucked up.”

“Ya think? You lost your shit on her because you thought we hooked up.”

“Well, she fucks everybody, so it was highly plausible.”

“Pot, kettle, dude.”

“You think I like being like this?” I snap.

Randy’s eyes go wide as he opens the door to the ice.

“I just wanted to be with her. I kept telling her that, but all she wanted to do was screw with my head. She was the one who kept bringing me girls like they were fucking gifts.”

“Wait. What?”

“It wasn’t my idea; it was hers.”

Randy looks floored by this information. “Seriously?”

“Unfortunately, yeah. They were her way of saying I wasn’t enough, I guess.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before now?”

“What was I gonna say? That I hate the shit I did for her, but I didn’t know how to make it any other way?”

“But the Tash situation wasn’t isolated.”

“Until her it wasn’t common, though.”