I check my phone and see a text from Rafe. Be there in five minutes.
I have to wonder what I’m doing here. Not just in Houlihan’s, waiting to meet Rafe after he played an amazing game, racking up two assists. But here in general, at Rafe’s request to watch the game and then join him after at Houlihan’s so he can, as he put it, “introduce me to the team.”
That smacks of relationship to me. Says he wants me to be at the game to cheer him on, and he wants his new mates to get to know me. It goes far beyond the boundaries I laid out regarding how this would be a relationship focused foremost on sex and would not move into any questionable type of intimacy.
In fact, I had mentioned that to Rafe when he handed me the ticket he’d bought for me and said, “I’d really love for you to come to the game.”
“But why?” I asked, actually confused. It happened to be my day off, and he’d stayed all night. When the subject came up, he was in the process of pulling on his pants, wanting to get home to have breakfast with his mom and dad before he headed off to the arena for a light morning skate.
“Because,” he said simply, “I want you there.”
“This is just sex,” I pointed out, sitting in bed and bringing the sheets up over my naked breasts. He’d just finished thoroughly wrecking my body with a morning quickie.
Rafe spun on me, his eyes flashing with…something. Anger? Amusement?
I couldn’t tell because he was back on me, and I was under him, pinned to the mattress. His face hovered, blocking out everything as he leveled me with a feral smile. “That’s not true, Poppy.”
“Is so,” I whispered.
Rafe shook his head. “No. You said we were friends with benefits. The benefit is sex, I’ll give you that. But we’re friends first and foremost. That comes before the sex. It always has, and as my friend, I’d like you to come to the game tonight. And after the game, assuming we win—which I know we will—I want you to come to Houlihan’s to meet my teammates.”
“But—”
He kissed me to shut me up. It worked, and I got distracted, but then he pulled back and rolled off the bed. Snagging his shirt and shoes from the floor, he moved to my door and threw one last look at me. God he was so gorgeous with his hair tousled and day-old stubble on his face. “Come as my friend, Calliope. But if you don’t, then I’ll get the message. It really is just sex and nothing more.”
Man, those words had punched into me hard, leaving me so breathless I couldn’t even respond. Didn’t matter...he left, taking away any opportunity to even argue with him.
And now here I am.
I totally enjoyed myself at the game. By mere virtue of knowing Rafe my entire life and watching him play hockey for most of it, I’m a true fan. Dedicated to the Cold Fury, who have been a staple in our household since I was a small kid. Rafe and I used to watch them together on the TV with our dads, and on the rare occasion we’d get a treat...tickets to an actual game.
I would admit to no one how excited I was when Rafe got his first assist. It felt like a victory for me. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs... “That’s my friend out there on the ice!”
My lover.
Used to be the love of my life. My best friend.
But now...just a friend that I have sex with.
I realize how ridiculous that all sounds, but really, I’m just protecting myself. We can phrase it however we want, and we can put it in a pretty package with a bow and call it a friends with benefits deal. But when it boils down to it, I’m merely protecting my heart from Rafe. I don’t want it to be broken again.
If you’re protecting yourself, then why the hell are you even here? Why are you letting him draw you back into his world?
I have no answers, only that I want to be here, and I fully believe that I’m merely being a good friend by doing so.
I move farther into the crowd, trying to make my way to the bar, but it doesn’t take me long to realize there’s no room for purchase. People are packed in like sardines.
But then something happens. The noise level rises incrementally, and the crowd seems to swell and shift. Things loosen up, and I even spot a small path right through to the bar.
It’s then that I realize the swell of people are actually moving like a tide toward the doors, and it hits me then that some of the players must be coming in. I rise to my tiptoes, able to see nothing but the tops of the heads of the Cold Fury players. There’s no way I’ll be able to even get near Rafe with the throng of fans pressing in on them.