Pucked: Pucked Over Part 5

Violet gives her a look. "Seriously? Do you even remember my mom's wedding?"

"What happened at your mom's wedding?" Sunny asks.

"Oh, you know, the usual. I humiliated myself in front of all of my parents' friends."

"I'm sure it wasn't that bad," I offer.

"I told my mom I didn't want to give a speech, because I'm not comfortable getting up in front of that many people. But she was convinced I'd be fine because it was all people we knew." Violet shakes her head. "When it was my turn I got up, tripped over the bottom of my dress, and face-planted into Buck's junk. It set off a chain reaction. He stumbled into the podium and knocked it over, and it landed on the cake! I ruined my mom's wedding."

"You didn't ruin it, Vi. It was just a hiccup," Charlene says.

Vi turns to me and Sunny. "That's not even the worse part! My b.o.o.b popped out of my dress, and everyone saw it! There were, like, three hundred people at the wedding!"

"There were only seventy-five. It was small," Charlene corrects.

"Well, it seemed like three hundred!" Violet huffs. "The whole team is coming to the engagement party! All of them. And they've all seen me naked. Or parts of me naked. It's embarra.s.sing. What if I have another wardrobe malfunction? What if I say something stupid or talk about Alex's d.i.c.k, which we all know is highly likely."

Last year rumors circulated that Alex had gotten caught having s.e.x in the locker room with an unknown girl. The claims were never substantiated. We all know the truth, though; Alex got kicked out of a game, and Violet went to see if he was okay. It was close to the end of the third period. The team walked into the locker room right after they finished, or at least that's what Sunny told me.

Apparently Miller and Alex almost had it out right there. I'm not much for violence, but I would have paid to see that fight. I did get to see Miller punch Alex out on national TV, and then I saw Alex return the favor in real life, so that's something.

"Yeah, but you've been around them all a ton since then. I'm sure they don't even remember at this point," Sunny says.

"Oh, they remember all right. That Kirk guy mentions it every time I see him."

"Ick. He's such a pig," Charlene replies.

"Right?" Sunny shakes her head. "Miller says I'm never supposed to be in a room alone with him."

"Why would he say that?" I ask. I have no idea who they're talking about.

"Kirk's one of the guys on the team. He's a dirtbag. He's getting a divorce because he can't keep his winkie in his pants," Charlene explains.

"He's not coming to the engagement party, is he?" Sunny asks.

"Oh, he sure is. Alex didn't want to invite him, but we couldn't very well leave him out since the rest of the team is coming." Violet rubs at a spot on her stomach. "G.o.ddammit! I have hives again. We need to talk about something else." She points at me. "What's going on with you and h.o.r.n.y Nut Sac?"

"Who?"

"Randy b.a.l.l.s. Come on. Spill it. He's clearly had his face in your beaver. Alex is all worried and s.h.i.t. I'd be jealous if he didn't constantly refer to you as his 'other baby sister' and my rack wasn't way bigger than yours."

I protectively cup my pint-sized b.o.o.bs. Benji always said they were barely there and I'd better get a good job so I could afford to pay for an upgrade. He loved pointing out girls with more cleavage than me. Violet fills out her bikini top in a way I couldn't even if I wore one of those super-extreme push-up bras. I bought one of those once, and Benji laughed at me. G.o.d, he was such a jerk.

"I'm not being mean," she adds after a moment, probably because I haven't come up with anything to say. "Just honest. Alex loves b.o.o.bs so, so much. He tries to use mine as pillows every night. Maybe he got weaned from breastfeeding too early or something. I don't know. Anyway, what was I talking about? Oh, right. b.a.l.l.s."

She looks at me expectantly.

"There's nothing going on."

"Come on, Lily," Sunny kicks me in the water.

I sigh. "We messed around. That's it. It's not a big deal."

"Liar face!" Violet shouts. "You are the color of a tomato. How was the s.e.x? I hear you were doing it in the bathroom last night."

"We didn't have s.e.x in a bathroom!" I wish I could sink to the bottom of the pool right now. I'm not big on talking about this kind of stuff with anyone but Sunny, let alone people I don't know all that well. I'm a private person. Except when I'm locked in a bathroom with Randy, apparently.

"I'm not judging. I had s.e.x in a locker room, and all of Alex's teammates heard my come moans. Everyone needs a little love now and again. Sometimes it's nice to get laid for the sake of getting laid. Besides, that Benji guy you were with before seems like a real d.i.c.k. Randy's a perfect rebound bone: he's hot, well built, and can probably screw like a stallion."

Just then, Daisy comes outside in her hot pink bathing suit with huge flowers on it, putting an end to the conversation.

But maybe Violet's right. I've been looking at this all wrong. As long as I'm smart about it, using Randy as a rebound is exactly what me and my b.o.o.bs need to forget about Benji for good.

Chapter 5.

Running in Circles RANDY.

A week after the exhibition game, I'm sitting in a lounge chair close to the pool on Lance's patio back in Chicago. It's been unseasonably warm, but today is likely the last time it's going to be this hot before fall takes me back to jeans and long sleeves. So I'm enjoying the sunshine. Or at least trying to.

Lance invited a bunch of people over. Inevitably, that means bunnies. He's been better about it lately, but he's still Lance, so there's always at least half a dozen hanging around, waiting for someone to throw them a carrot-and by carrot I mean d.i.c.k.

There's a girl lying on the chair beside me, yammering away about who-f.u.c.king-cares what. She won't stop talking. The problem isn't her constant flow of words, which is irritating, but tolerable because I can tune it out. The real issue is that I've slept with her before, and based on the way she keeps edging her lounge chair closer to mine, she has it in her mind it's going to happen again.

I'm not feeling it. Or her. Sure, we got naked, but I didn't call her or respond to any comments on my social media afterward, so the message should be clear. It was what it was, and now it's over. Unfortunately, she's not getting the hint.

I text Miller to see what he's up to. He's been steering clear of Lance's when the bunnies are around. That means he stays for workouts and then he bails unless we're having Xbox wars. Which isn't very often. Lance usually gets antsy after a couple hours and calls in the reinforcements.

Miller messages back almost right away to tell me he's at Waters' Chicago place. That's still weird to me that not long ago those guys were busy breaking each other's noses to defend their sisters' honor. They've worked it out since then, but this hanging out stuff is a new development.

With Miller occupied, it looks like I have two options: stay and let the bunny annoy me, or go home and lounge in my own backyard, minus the pool to cool off in. I have a sprinkler if it's a real problem. Option two holds more appeal than option one, so I excuse myself to the bathroom. Once inside, I grab my duffle and keys from the rack in the kitchen and head for the front door.

"Hey, man, where you goin'?" Lance asks, tucking himself back into his shorts as he steps out of the main floor bathroom. A random bunny appears behind him, adjusting her bikini top. Her eyes are gla.s.sy and her cheeks flushed. She looks well taken care of.

"I got a headache. I'm gonna roll out."

"There's lots of cures for headaches here." Lance pats the girl's a.s.s as she pa.s.ses him. She jumps and giggles, then turns to wait. He lifts his chin in the direction of the pool. "I'll be out in a minute." He waits until she's gone. "Everything all right with you?"

"Yeah. Fine. I'm cashed today. It's been a busy week with getting back into training."

There's a brief hesitation on Lance's part, like he's not sure whether he believes me. Then he slaps me on the shoulder. "I get it. I'll see you tomorrow."

"For sure." He goes back to the pool and his company.

My truck is parked beside a Fiat. I hit the unlock b.u.t.ton and start the engine. Then I hear a voice.

"Randy! Can I get a ride home?" It's the girl from the pool.

She's still in her bikini, but she's got a ma.s.sive purse, or bag, or whatever it's called hanging off her arm. Her legs are like sticks, and her b.o.o.bs are half hanging out of her top. Her getting into my truck isn't a great idea.

"I, uh, I'm about to run some errands." It's a lame excuse, and she isn't deterred.

"My apartment is, like, five minutes from here. You don't mind, do you? My friends are staying, and I kinda wanna go."

I scratch the back of my neck. "I'm running late already."

"Seriously, five minutes. Please? I don't have money on me for a cab." She drops her head and bites her lip, looking up at me with watery eyes.

"Yeah. Okay. I'll drive you."

She does a little skippy thing and runs around to the pa.s.senger side. Her head appears at the window. She really is tiny. Except her b.o.o.bs. Those are busting out. "Can I get a little help here? It's a long way."

Yup. Here we go. I can feel the regret as I circle the front of my truck. I take her bag and toss it into the cab, then tap the running board with my foot. "Take a step up."

She does as I ask, but she's facing me, so her b.o.o.bs are right there. It takes an infinite reserve of muscle control not to roll my eyes. After picking her up and dropping her on the seat, I wait for her to swing her legs into the cab. When all she does is give me a blank stare, I hook a finger under the back of her knee and move it so I can close the door.

This is going to be a whole s.h.i.tton of fun. I hoist myself back into the driver's seat and shift the truck into reverse. The girl, I think her name might be Mary, or Miranda-it's definitely got an M and an R in it-shimmies over. Thankfully the center console is in the way, so she can't get too close.

She practically crawls over it. I don't notice the phone until she kisses me on the cheek and a flash goes off. I put a hand up to stop from being blinded. "Seriously?"

"Sorry! All my pictures from last time were dark. I wanted a better one."

"I'm driving here! And it's nice when you ask first." I try not to be snappy, but the way she shrinks back tells me I'm unsuccessful. Why did I agree to this? I feel like Miller back in the day. This just looks bad.

"Do you want me to delete it?" Her eyes are all wide and sad looking.

Maybe I'm being paranoid. Nothing's going to happen; I know that. "It's fine. I just didn't expect it." I stop at the end of the street. "Where'm I goin'?"

"Oh, right! Duh!" She gives me directions to her place. It isn't five minutes away; it's fifteen according to my GPS, but she's already in the vehicle.

She fiddles around on her phone for a minute, probably posting the picture she took. Once she's done, she drops it on the seat and runs her hand over the dashboard.

"This is a nice truck. Is this the only thing you drive? Do you have a sports car, too? Lance has a lot of cars, doesn't he?"

She couldn't be more obvious if she wore a "bunny" sign around her neck. "I have an Audi. And yeah, Lance likes his cars." He has a collection. I'm not sure how he makes things work with all the money he blows, but that's not my issue to manage.

The girl whose name starts with M roots through her bag-purse and pulls out a shirt. I a.s.sume she's going to put it on over her bikini. That's not what happens. Instead she pulls the tie around her neck and the one at her back, and the material drops to her lap. I glance at her and then back at the road, holding the wheel tight. I knew driving this chick home was a bad idea.

"What're you doing?"

"Getting changed. You don't mind, do you? My bathing suit's still a little damp, and I don't like the way it feels."

I try to keep my tone even. "Again, I'm driving. You can't be naked in my car."

"The windows are tinted. No one can see." She pulls the shirt over her head. It's almost see-through, but it's better than looking at her nipples. My d.i.c.k starts to get the wrong idea about what's going to happen here and begins the process of inflating.

Next my pa.s.senger shimmies her bottoms off. Now there's naked p.u.s.s.y in my truck. Directly on my seat. She roots around in her bag some more-looking for shorts, maybe. I have no idea. Not like it matters. Normally this scenario wouldn't be a problem, but I've been texting Lily this week, and she's been messaging me back. I'm seeing her next weekend, and based on the content of our texting, I'm almost positive she's willing to get naked and have some fun. She's already made it clear to me and a good portion of my clothing that she doesn't like to share.

Now here's the thing: I don't get into serious relationships. Based on what I've seen happen with my teammates, and my own d.a.m.n a.s.shole father, all relationships do is cause bulls.h.i.t.

I travel all the time, and my entire life I've watched long-distance relationships fail. I had a front-row seat to the s.h.i.tshow that was my parents' ruined marriage. My dad was a professional hockey player-decent enough to be farm team and play a couple pro seasons. But he couldn't keep his d.i.c.k in his pants when he was away from home.

Apparently I'm exactly like my dad where hockey is concerned, except I'm a better player. At twenty-four, I'm in my sixth season with the NHL. He managed three seasons, but never first line. Still, it's been hammered into me that I'm just like Randy Senior. We have the same personality, the same face, the same skill set, the same style on the ice, the same everything. And I've spent enough time with him to know it's true.

So that means one thing: there's a good chance I'm going to screw someone over the way he screwed over my mom. It might not be intentional, but it'll happen. So I don't get involved. Usually I'll hang out with the same girl for a while, rather than bunny hop. We have fun until it gets too involved and isn't working anymore, and then we part ways and do our own thing.

Most of the time it works out okay. But some girls get invested way too fast. There've been a few bunnies along the way that wanted more from me, but I make it abundantly clear that's not how things are going to roll. It's not my fault they read more into it than they should. There was one who got a tattoo of my face on her t.i.t-and that was after I cut ties. As soon as I see it happening, I bail. I don't want to hurt feelings or break hearts; I just want awesome s.e.x and some sleepovers.

Except that's actually a load of BS, because in all honesty, if I wasn't at risk of f.u.c.king up someone else's life, I might want an actual girlfriend. I can see the appeal. But definitely not this chick currently taking up s.p.a.ce in my truck.

With Lily, I have to be even more conscious of what I'm doing and who I'm doing it with because she's connected to Miller and Alex. I don't want to mess s.h.i.t up and make my life or theirs more difficult. She's a lot of fun, though, and she's clearly on the rebound, so I'm thinking we can spend some time getting to know each other without clothes on.

I chuckle at the memory of Lily's expression when she saw my underwear in that bathroom last weekend. I plan to pull them out next weekend to see how she reacts again.

M Girl must mistake my chuckle for some kind of green light to get all up on my d.i.c.k. She's still pants-less. She adjusts her seatbelt's shoulder strap and leans over as far as she can. Her hand lands on my upper thigh and moves to my slowly inflating, traitor d.i.c.k.

I glance down and then at her. "What're you doing?"

"I thought maybe I could thank you for the ride."

"By holding my d.i.c.k?"

"I was thinking more along the lines of a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b."

I exhale heavily through my nose and move her hand off me. We're less than two minutes from her place now. "I don't really have time for that."

"I can be real fast. I give amazing b.l.o.w. .j.o.bs."

I want to tell her that's not something she should be bragging about. I take the next corner a little too fast, almost fishtailing. She slides across the seat and b.u.mps into the pa.s.senger door.

"Sorry."

"It's okay." She moves back into position as I turn another corner. I need both hands on the wheel, so she takes the opportunity to slide her hand into my shorts.

Her building is two hundred feet away. I screech to a stop in front-it's a nice place-and throw it in park.

"No!" I bark, gripping her wrist.

Her eyes go wide, and she retracts her hand like she's been bitten.

I close my eyes for a second and breathe. When I look at her again, I'm calm. I've given this speech a bunch of times, so it's nothing new. "Look, you're a nice girl, and we had fun, but the new season's about to start, and I can't get into anything right now. I gotta keep my head in the game, you know?"