Page 4 of Playing the Player

This is not what I wanted to do with my life. This isn’t the life I had pictured for myself.

I wanted to be a writer. I wanted to create entire worlds, people, places, lives. To create a story that makes people laugh, cry or lose themselves in for a few hours. And maybe, just maybe, seeing my name on the cover of a published book.

That sounds… incredible.

But it also sounds terrifying. Being vulnerable like that, it’s scary. Putting something so personal out into the world? Letting strangers judge it? I don’t think I’d be brave enough. Not anymore.

On the outside I’m always bubbly, friendly, and full of energy. People probably think that I’m confident, that I have a thick skin and don’t care about what others say about me.

The truth though? I am painfully insecure. What people think about me matters a whole lot more than it should and nothing I, or anyone else says, will ever change that.

“Sarah!” My boss, Larry, barks at me in his gravelly voice that irritates my eardrums.

I muster as much politeness into my voice as possible, even though I am sick and tired of being called every name beginning with ‘s’ that he can think of, but Sasha. In all my years working here, I don’t think he’s called me by my actual name once. “Yes, sir?”

“Cancel my ten o’clock with Mrs Hahn. I don’t have the energy to listen to that God awful voice today.” Funny, I’d say the same thing about you.

“Yes, sir.” I pull up today's list of appointments while Larry storms back towards his office without so much as a thank you. Prick. That man is always in a mood. He must have a permanent stick up his ass or something.

Maybe he just needs to get laid. His wife left him five years ago and as far as I know, he’s been single ever since. Shock. The kind of guys around here like to brag about sex, even though most of them are above fifty and are way too old to be acting like eighteen-year-old boys. But that doesn't stop me overhearing some of the crude things they say about women. Larry is the one man who doesn't talk about sex, so I just assume it’s because he isn't getting any. Poor guy.

Poor me. I’m not getting any either. Maybe that’s all it would take for me to get out of this slump. A good fuck. A good orgasm from a man and not from myself. Just thinking about it makes my stomach tighten.

God, I miss having a man in my bed. Someone who can get me horny from just one look. Someone who’s blonde and tall and who looks like a Greek God that has been carved from stone. Someone who plays hockey-

Okay, nope! Absolutely not! Not going there. We are not thinking about him today. Or ever.

Maybe Josh knows someone. I mean, that whole team of hockey players are sex on legs, I’m sure at least one of them would be done for one, uninterrupted, no strings attached night.

As long as it isn’t him. Though, I know he wouldn’t say no to one crazy night in the bedroom. As long as it has a vagina and a heartbeat, that man would be all over it.

Keeping my phone hidden beneath my desk in case Larry appears again, I pull mine and Josh’s text thread. God, it’s like being back at school, hiding your phone from the teacher so you don’t get in trouble.

I type.

Hey Josh, I’ve been thinking and I was wondering if you-

No.

Hey, bro-

No.

Know anyone looking for se-

I let out an exasperated groan and toss my phone back onto my desk in a huff. I can’t ask him that. Plus, he would tell Liv straight away and I can’t deal with an interrogation right now.

It looks like my tragic love life will just have to wait. For now, I guess I should get back to work.

2

Conor

“Pass me the puck, you dick.” I shout across the ice to Michaelson. Thank fuck we’re only running drills today. If this were a game, we’d be getting absolutely demolished out there.

“Give me a break, Matthews.” He fires, whipping the puck my way. I catch it cleanly, fake a pass and then slam it into the net past Knight. “What’s up your ass today?”

“That’s it for today. Good work, boys.” Coach calls to us and we make our way across the ice.