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“Hey, man, don’t worry about it.” He smacks a gloved hand down on my shoulder. “You’re just off your game. It’s probably from lack of oxygen to your dick.”
I laugh at his snide comment because there is some truth to it but also kind of sad. “Yeah, Sydney is fucking killing me.”
“She’s brutal. If Kennedy did that shit to me, we would not be together right now.”
“You had Roxie cock blocking you instead.”
He shakes his head, smiling. “Roxie knows not to get in the way of my pussy anymore.”
The first time Tyler tried to have sex with Kennedy, his dog had gotten in the way. Roxie is still a puppy and requires a lot of attention.
“What are you losers talking about?” Parker asks, skating toward us without his stick.
Tyler turns to face him, his body angled between us. “We were talking about how Donovan can’t get Sydney to fuck him. I swear either his hand or dick are going to fall off before she does. Wanna throw some money down on it?”
“Yeah,” Parker says, looking away, laughing. Then, his gaze travels back to me. “The good ones are harder to get into bed. I learned that with Charlotte.”
“Dude, it took you less than a week to hook up with Coach,” Tyler says, tapping Parker in the arm and he smiles. “Our boy has been getting off on Sydney for a week, and she still won’t let him touch her. She’s a fucking cocktease.”
“Don’t
talk about Sydney like that,” I say, shoving him. I’m surprised how much I have grown to like her, despite all her rules.
He loses his balance but regains it fast. “Dick!” Tyler shouts at me. “Just because you’re having girl problems doesn’t mean you need to take it out on the team or me. Get your shit together, man. I’m going to hit the shower.”
Annoyed with me, Tyler skates off. Some days, I think he has just as many mood swings as a pregnant woman.
“You like her, huh?” Parker asks me as we skate away from the net.
“Yeah, she’s…weird. I kind of like that. I never met anyone like Sydney before.”
Our teammates are making their way off the ice and toward the locker room. As the captain, Tyler usually stays behind until we finish practice, but he's a jerk today for whatever reason. He must have gotten into a fight with Kennedy or missed a morning BJ. Who the fuck knows. I don’t care. I have enough of my own problems to deal with.
“I felt the same way about Charlotte when we first met. She called me out on my shit so many times. We didn’t even get a long at first. Charlotte thought I was some spoiled brat who had his career handed to him on a platter and didn’t want to work for it. She hated me until I convinced her I wasn’t the asshole the newspapers made me out to be.”
“She was wrong about that,” I tell him, exiting the rink. “You’re not so bad.”
“Yeah, but she didn’t know that in the beginning. Most people thought the same thing about me. I had to work hard to get everyone to overlook all the scandals and women. What I’m trying to say is that the good ones make you work for it, and if she’s worth the wait, then don’t listen to Kane.”
Tyler is about as pussy-whipped as a man can get. And the same goes for Parker. Those two have morphed into different people since they met their women. Maybe I should take their advice if I want to get Sydney into my bed before my hand or dick falls off. I still can’t believe Tyler said that. He’s right, though. I can’t take much more of the torture. It’s messing with my head and my hockey, and I can’t have that shit in my life.
“Sydney put on a show for me the first night we met, and then wouldn’t let me touch her. It’s one of her rules. She has a lot of them for some reason.”
“Okay. That’s weird.” Parker looks at me confused. “I don’t even know what to say about that.” He takes off his helmet, his eyes focused on the entrance to the locker room as we walk down the hallway. “Kane told me all about what happened with you and Sydney the night of the last game of the Finals. Your girl sounds like a freak. Not gonna lie. But it might be worth the wait. That’s all I’m saying. I practically killed myself to get Charlotte back. I’m never letting her go again. It’s hard to find a girl who will challenge you. Maybe that’s what you need.”
I cannot believe I’m getting relationship advice from Alex Parker. Before he met Coach, everyone knew him as the most scandalous player in the league. His last incident the media had called Puck of Shame after he staggered out of a dorm room at Georgetown University and got his ass traded to Philadelphia. Well, the sex scandal involving the granddaughter of the Washington Capital’s team owner is what landed him here. But he had a never-ending string of publicized drama for years that earned him a serious manwhore reputation.
Now he’s lecturing me, of all people, about women?
If anyone knows how to keep their nose clean, it’s me. Ever since I entered the league six years ago, I have worked my ass off, tried my hardest to keep up my save percentage. Hockey is my life. Women are not part of that equation. Or at least not long-term. A puck bunny or model here and there is fine. Maybe a stripper or two on occasion. They keep me satisfied and don’t require much hassle. But Sydney is doing a fucking number on me.
After I take a shower, I talk to my coach about how I can work on my game. It has been shit for so many months I have no idea what happened or when it started. All I know is that one day I was killing it, my save percentage was off-the-charts, and then the next, I was missing pucks left and right. Now that I have Sydney fucking with my head, the constant blue balls and games are killing my mojo even more.
Tyler left the Flyers’ practice facility in a rush, ignoring me on his way out of the building. He really needs to work on controlling his moods. I’m used to his temper tantrums. They don’t last long. And Parker was meeting Coach for lunch at a restaurant downtown. Luckily, I have a date. Or at least I think I have a date. I never know with Sydney. She keeps me guessing and on my toes.
Sydney invited me over to her apartment, said she had a surprise for me. That surprise had better be her spread eagle, waiting on her bed, and down to fuck. Because I can’t have my arm going numb again during practice.
On my way over the bridge from New Jersey and into Philadelphia, a call comes through the Bluetooth speakers in my Hummer. I glance at the Caller ID. It’s Sydney.
