I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Of course the only possible way to identify who is leaving me gifts is to tap into some caveman jealousy by being seen with someone else. Do boys beat on their bare chests and grunt at themselves in the mirror when they’re alone?
I can’t tell if he’s serious. I also can’t tell if he actually wants me to be his date or if he’s offering it to me as some kind of charity gesture.
I know he doesn’t know me, but he really,reallydoesn’t know me if he thinks I’d be down for a childish act to try to make someone else jealous.
His eyes skim my face again, as though scanning my every thought racing through my mind, and his grin grows wider. “How about an exchange? A trade? I’ll take you to our party, and you can do something for me.”
H-e-double-hockey-sticks, no!
I’ve read books about Fae. If I make a bargain with him, it means he’ll eat my soul or something else equally dramatic.
And I’m absolutely not thinking about him eating something else right now. Nope.
“Thanks, but I’m good.” I untangle myself from his web of charm and allure and suck in a breath of fresh air. Except it’s not fresh air, it’s Ares. I get a full shot ofeau de Aresright into my nostrils, and I want to turn around and sniff him.
Forcing myself into the car, I don’t look at him again as I drive off. I leave the mischievous man with the magnetism of a siren and the chiseled jaw of a marble god statue in my rearview.
The audacity of that demigod. Oh hey, let me solve all the world’s problems with my delicious manliness. Swagger, swagger.
Like the hockey house party is the center of the entire universe. I bet he thinks everyone with a brain cell wants to be at his dumb kegger. While in reality, anyone with half a brain cell would likely rather be anywhere else.
Ugh.
I don’t fight the eye roll this time. Nor do I let myself relive how delicious he actually is.
My last boyfriend was as boring as watching paint dry, even for me—I’m not exactly an exciting, life on the edge kind of girl. But I certainly don’t date arrogant, cocky, douche nozzles who think their penis is the be all and end all of civilization.
But I also can’t lie that the idea of going on a date with him is ringing every bell in my head, my heart, and my lady bits.
This is bad. This is very, very bad.
CHAPTER9
Ares
The weirdest pre-game meal I’ve ever seen is Raffi’s big-ass bowl of cheese. He’s no Phil Kessel, but it’s like he thinks if he eats enough cheese, he might be. I’m glad I spend the game between the pipes. I can’t imagine the stench he leaves in his wake when he’s out on the ice.
Maybe that’s his tactic, gas our opponents with his ass.
A kid behind me has been chirping for the whole fucking game. He’s dressed in a Kalamazoo shirt with what looks to be a Burger King crown on his head. Kid’s got balls. Coming to a Raccoons’ game dressed in our opponent’s colors and yelling at the home team’s goalie. He gives no fucks, and I kinda love it.
It’s fueled my fire. Since Coach has let me off the bench I’ve stood on my head for each and every game. We play Kalamazoo again tomorrow in Michigan, and they’re a tough team to beat in their home barn.
I’m going to give this kid behind me my stick when the game is over. Sure, he’s with the visiting team, but kids with such a passion for hockey should be encouraged. And I need a new stick anyway.
The clock counts down, and the final buzzer sounds. I pull out the silver Sharpie I’ve had tucked in my pants and scrawl a message on the blade of the stick.
Good chirps! Take it easy on me next time.
Then I sign my name.
“Hey, kid!”
The kid’s eyes widen, and he hides behind the big dude he’s standing next to. Brother? Father? Either way the kid’s lost his confidence now that the game is over, and I’m addressing him directly.
I pull off my mask, leaving it on top of my net before gesturing for him and his accomplice to follow me to a part of the plexi that isn’t covered by protective netting.
I reach my stick up over the boards and drop it into the older guy’s hands. He hands it to the mouthy little guy who looks at it, looks at me, and his face breaks into a wide smile before he flips me off and takes off running up the stairs.
