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‘Fine,” I snort, leaning over the computer as he places it on the couch between us.
Kennedy published an article this morning titled One-night stands: What the puck! She’s funny, I’ll give her that. Her use of hockey and sex to entertain her followers is much different from anything I have ever seen before online. Most blogs follow the same format, but her blog is original, unique—just like Kennedy. Based on her appearance alone on Saturday, I never would have pegged her as a funny, sporty, sex writer. Some people take you by surprise. In this case, it was a good one.
“Good morning, puck bunnies!” Donovan laughs at Kennedy’s use of the term for her followers and continues reading to me even though I have already read the post twice.
You know the joke that starts with a priest walks into a bar and the punch line is something stupid but still funny? Well, how about a puck bunny walks into a coffee shop and runs into her one-night stand? What do you do when that happens? Well, one of our bunnies had a run in with some hottie she took home one night, only to creep out of his bed in the wee hours of the morning to avoid the awkwardness later. But her plan backfired. Oh, yes, it failed miserably.
She bumped into him at her local Starbucks not long after getting it on. But what if you don’t live in a big city where the next Starbucks is only a few blocks away? What if you live in a town that has two restaurants and one coffee shop, and you’re stuck seeing this person every day? To be honest, I think you are screwed if that’s the case.
So, ladies, what do you do when you bump into a one-night stand? How about an ex-boyfriend? Exes are tricky because of the potential feelings that might still be there. Your feelings toward a one-night stand might be something along the lines of, Oh God he was horrible in bed or Why did I have sex with this idiot?
The worse is when you have a good buzz going, and the beer goggles are thick. Waking up next to a troll could give a girl a panic attack or maybe even a heart attack. That’s what happened to our bunny.
She woke up a few hours after their horrific sexual encounter, still drunk and disoriented, and ladies, he had a case of the baby dick. Need I say more? I don’t think so.
But our girl went through with it instead of pretending to have her period or making up an excuse. Anyway, so our bunny snuck out of his apartment, left her cell phone behind like Cinderella, and as if he were her Prince Charming, he somehow managed to track her down and find her at the local Starbucks where she gets her morning coffee. Her reaction was hilarious.
Our busy bunny told him to keep the phone and ran out of the coffee shop. But here’s the best part. He showed up every morning for three weeks until our follower had taken the phone from him.
If it were me, I would have done the same thing except I would have snatched up the phone. Is that the most mature response? No, probably not but it sure beats him asking you for another date. All I know is I would have been out the door faster than you can say, What the puck!
Donovan laughs and slides the computer back toward me on the couch. “Do you know this girl?”
“She’s the reporter we met a few days ago at Coach’s skills clinic.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “The girl you had coffee with?”
“Yeah, her name is Kennedy. She’s beautiful, smart, and likes sports. I had fun with her.”
“You’re not into her.” It’s not a question, and his tone makes me a bit defensive. I feel protective for some reason.
I shrug against the couch cushion and lift the computer back onto my lap. “So what if I am. Do you have a problem with it?”
His mouth twists in disgust. “It’s just…she’s not your type. That girl is kind of homely, not a bunny or a model.”
“Really, dude? Homely? That’s harsh.”
Propping my feet up on the coffee table, I sink into the dark leather and scroll through Kennedy’s blog post, reading it one more time before I decide to do something crazy and comment, ignoring him as he speaks.
“You know what I mean. Just not the kind of girl you’d go for. That’s all I’m saying.”
Laughing to myself, I type out, You talk about cocks way too much for a lady on Kennedy’s blog and hit submit. I made the screen name Kanenoshame07, making sure to use my last name and jersey number, so she gets the hint. I would love to see her live reaction as she reads my comment.
“She’s different, but maybe that’s a good thing. Bunnies and models just want to be famous. A girl like that wants nothing from me. And it’s not like that between us. She intends to write a story on me. I’m pretty sure she can’t stand the sight of me, thinks I’m a pig, blah, blah, blah…”
“She wants something from you alright. What kind of story does she want to write about you?”
“About my personal life.” I cringe at the thought of exposing my life to the world, knowing I can never let her write the story she needs to make headlines. “She wants to come see my house and where I grew up. Not a big deal.”
His jaw drops in shock. “You’re kidding me. What did you say?”
Roxie licks my face, and I wipe away her slobber with the my hand, running my hand down her back to massage her thick coat. “I said okay. I like her. She’s…interesting. I don’t know why you are getting all upset about it.”
“Because…” He hesitates for a second, his gaze shifting to the pictures on the mantle above the fireplace just below the massive flat screen TV hung on the wall. “Are you going to tell her about Payton and Blake?”
Looking at Blake’s picture, I shake my head. “No way. I already told her Payton and my family are off-limits. The last thing I need is everyone feeling sorry for me over the past, and it’s also none of their damn business.”
“She might expect more from you, and when you don’t give her what she wants, she may end up digging for it on her own.”
