More than Friends

“In the parking lot.”

“Gross.” The way she says it makes me laugh. “Call me when you get home, and I will talk you through your problem.”

“Phone sex, now we’re talking, Kitten. You should FaceTime me so that I can jerk off to your tits. I swear they’re getting bigger.”

“Hello, Dirty Dean,” she says, laughing.

“What? I’m a man, and I love your tits. They’re fucking perfect.”

“In some strange way, this conversation is making me miss you even more,” she says.

“I know what you mean. I miss us and the way things were when we were in college. Life was so much simpler back then. We should have done this a long time ago instead of waiting. Not telling you how I feel sooner will always be my biggest regret.”

“Mine, too,” she admits. “If only we had more time together. Being an adult sucks ass.”

“Tell me about it. Try playing for a team that hates your guts.”

“They don’t hate you. Stop being so dramatic.”

“I’m serious. It’s not like playing for the Senators.”

“Back then, you were a big fish in a little pond. Now, you’re a little fish in an ocean. You have to earn the respect of the older players. They will not hand it to you. Give it time. Even Duke, if you can believe it, had issues with his teammates his rookie year. Hang in there, and things will work out. Once they see how amazingly talented you are, they won’t hassle you as much.”

“Thanks, Kitten. Now, how about that phone sex?”

“Oh, Dean,” she hisses. “Call me when you get home, and you can get me off, too.”

“Good thing I only live ten minutes away from here.”

“Be careful, please. I know you were drinking. Drive safe.”

“Yes, Mom,” I deadpan.

She chuckles. “Call me when you’re in bed and ready for me.”

“I will. Make sure you stay awake.”

“I promise.”

A few seconds later, we hang up. All I can think about is getting home as fast as possible so that I can have some much needed alone time with Kat. I will take what I can get.

Chapter 19

Five months after the NHL Draft

Kat

Anxious, I remove my cell phone from my bag and flip through the notifications. I frown when it sinks in that none of them are from Dean. Again. If I didn’t want this internship to turn into a full-time position, I would have packed up my shit and went home for the day. But I am not a quitter, no matter how much I want to throw in the towel.

My moods shift from happy to sad in an instant. Even I am sick of being around myself, let alone my brothers, who were happy to leave for college and hockey. I was a raging bitch for most of the summer, especially after Dean left.

Becca, my former roommate and now co-worker, taps me on the shoulder, forcing me to look up from my cell phone. “Did you hear from your boyfriend?”

I shake my head and set the phone on the table next to me. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

She shrugs. “You know what I mean.”

“Nope, I haven’t heard from him.”