Page 40 of Mac Meyers Needs Me

“Calm down.” She laughs. “There haven’t been any other real dicks involved, just fake ones.”

“Like a vibe and Chase at the same time?” I should not be surprised, but I’m a little surprised. Chase is a huge guy, and I’ve seen the condom wrappers they sometimes use. Boy is above average in every department.

“Yup.”

“In the same hole?”

“And in a different one, but yeah.”

“Oh my God.” I fan my face. “But like, was it uncomfortable?”

“We started with extra of these.” She waggles her fingers. “And worked our way up. The training is the fun part.”

I blow out a breath. “You’re my hero.”

“You too can have an exceptional and satisfying sex life, you just have to tell Mac that you actually like him,” she says gently.

I haven’t told her, or anyone, about the post-hockey-gala kiss. I figure if Mac mentions it to Chase, he’ll say something to Cammie, and she’ll say something to me. But that hasn’t happened. So I’m left to believe it was a spur-of-the-moment, hormones-running-high, plus a couple of cocktails thrown into the mix decision. It’s made me wildly angsty this week. On the upside, I’ve channeled that into my art and created a few new pieces for my alter ego that I plan to put up when we’re back on campus.

“I don’t want to mess with our friendship,” I admit.

“Do you really think Mac would ask you to be his fake girlfriend if he wasn’t at least entertaining the idea of you being his real girlfriend?” Cammie presses.

“Or I’m safe because I’m in the friend zone. If you’re wrong, it could make things hella awkward with our friend group.” I let my head fall back. “I need the stability of our friends more than I need a fulfilling sex life.” And what if he’s in Florida in the fall and I’m still finishing university? Tally’s dating Flip, but they’re in the same city. Mac and I could be hours apart by plane or car. And I still don’t have context for the kiss. This trip was such a bad idea and it’s too late to uncommit.

Cammie reaches over to squeeze my hand. “I’m sorry for pushing. I’ll let it go for now.”

“I just love that I have the Terror family, and now you guys, and I don’t want to put that at risk by making things weird with Mac.” We’re already showing up at their tournament three hours from Tilton unannounced. Cammie even rented a hotel room so we can stay the night. We should catch both games today, and if the guys go on to the finals, we’ll catch the one in the morning, too.

Two hours later, we check into the hotel. We change into our Tilton cheer gear—Cammie has one of Chase’s jerseys that I helped her modify so it fits more like a dress than a muumuu, and I’m wearing Mac’s oversized hoodie, my toque, and jeans. I even painted my nails Tilton colors, which doubles at hiding the paint I can never get out from under them.

Once we’re freshened up, we head to the arena. My palms are sweaty and it feels like a Ping-Pong game is happening inside my chest as we scan the arena for available seats. The game starts in twenty minutes. We find a spot several rows back from the Tilton bench and stick out like sore thumbs in our gold, pale blue and maroon against the sea of green, black and white.

The guys skate out onto the ice for warm-ups. Cammie and I snicker as phones rise around us when the boys drop to the ice and start their inner thigh stretches. The ice-humping videos are wildly popular on social media. I get it. I have a stash of my own that I sometimes use as private time fodder. Those inner thigh stretches are a PG version of bedroom moves, and those boys know it.

“Do you ever get Chase to do that at home?” I’m clearly being tongue in cheek.

“While naked and on top of me?”

A couple of girls glance over their shoulders at us. We ignore them.

“Daily, I’m sure,” I quip.

“At least once, if not more,” Cammie agrees and notes, “Mac is quite flexible.”

“Don’t start.”

“It’s just an observation.”

“I have eyes.”

She changes gears. “He’s been smoother the past few games.”

“He has been,” I agree.

“Maybe having a girlfriend is helping him focus.”

Annnnnd we’re back to the same hamster wheel. “Or maybe he’s been practicing.”