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“Seems like someone wants your attention as much as I do,” Sparkle said.
“It’s Rome,” I said. “Trying to fuck with me.”
“We should fuck with him right back.”
“How do you propose we do that?”
“Send him a picture of us together,” Sparkle said. “But we have to make it worth the effort.”
Without hesitation, Sparkle dropped her right hand from my neck to between my legs.
She let out a loud oohhh sound.
Then of all the cliché things to ask…
“Is that a hockey stick in your pants?”
I smiled.
I reached into my right pocket and carefully slid my phone out.
Sparkle had quite the handful over my jeans.
I gritted my teeth.
I pressed the side button and the phone screen lit up.
When I saw the name I jumped back so fast, you would have sworn Sparkle jammed a stun gun against my cock.
Far out of her reach, both of my hands suddenly to myself, I turned, looked down, and studied the messages.
One apologizing for the texting so late.
The other…
“What is it?” Sparkle asked.
My heart twisted and fell free like an apple from a branch.
“Uh,” I said. “Uh, the man who taught me everything I know about hockey… he, uh, he died.”
“Oh, no,” Sparkle said. “You poor thing. Was he like a father to you?”
“Yeah, he was. The only thing I had in my life that resembled a father.”
Sparkle touched my back.
Her hands moved down and around to the front of my body.
“I’m so sorry, Henry,” she whispered. “Losing someone that means that much to you. Let me take good care of you now. You have nothing to worry about.”
That’s where Sparkle was very wrong.
There was plenty to worry about.
My biggest worry?
The person who sent me the texts.
