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“Go, Gigi,” I heard one of my girls call from behind me.
Dammit. I would have to address this immediately. After I handed back the phone, I stood up. Leaning on the back of my seat, in a loud voice, I said, “That is not what it looks like.”
“It looks like you want to play tonsil hockey with each other,” Giana said, cackling. Everyone joined in, laughing and hooting.
Anna popped up and shouted, “Dang, girl. You got in there before any of us even had a chance!” More hollering and lewd comments followed.
I took a moment to think about what my dad would say. How many fucks did I actually give that some asswipe had posted this on social media?
The picture itself was hot and suggestive that there was something going on between us. Nothing demeaning about it. Beau’s sexy grin looking down at me made my own heart beat faster as I looked at the pic.
And I knew there wasn’t anything happening other than two people feeling extremely frustrated with each other.
I had no love life to speak of. Nobody to misconstrue or get mad at me for possibly cheating.
Marcel and Angelique might get ticked off that their two captains were caught in a seeming embrace. All I could do was explain my side of it.
Other than being seen as another, “Beau Moreau” groupie, this wouldn’t affect me much at all—well, aside from the girls on the team giving me shit. And that was to be expected.
I wasn’t super well known down here. Most of these people looking at the photo probably didn’t even know who I was, or that I played hockey.
And with my hair and makeup done like that, I doubted anyone would recognize me anyway.
This would most affect Beau and his abilities to bed his next victim. That thought made me almost giddy inside. Cockblocking Beau Moreau was actually kind of funny.
So, the answer to my dad would be, “I give zero fucks that my picture is posted on social media right now.”
It remained to be seen what the owners and coaches said, however. None of that was under my control.
“Ladies, trust me, that picture is not what it seems. Nothing happened. It was a well-timed shot, that’s all. I assure you, Moreau feels nothing but contempt toward me.”
“I think he wanted to feel a couple of things, Gigi,” someone shouted from the back, making me smile. What a bunch of assholes I played with. I laughed and gave up, then plunked down into my seat. After that, I plugged my other earbud into my ear and turned up my music.
The bus stoppedin front of a building with condo-like apartments. The ivory colored stucco and red, terracotta shingles on top really stood out. The windows looked oversized and stylish.
Accommodations for hockey players were typically not this nice. Not in my experience, anyway. This was a pleasant surprise.
We filed out, the players talking amongst themselves as we made our way through ornate, iron gates and into the courtyard of the condos. It was a horseshoe shaped building with upper and lower apartments—big balconies on top and nice sized personal patios on the bottom.
A perfect pool, bluer than any sky I’d ever seen, sat right in the middle of the large courtyard. A large hot tub surrounded by palm trees sat off to the side and another, much smaller pool hid behind that. If I were to guess, I’d say it was likely an infinity pool.
I had to admit I felt more than a little awestruck here as I looked around at how great everything was. A zing of excitement tingled through me while I imagined this as my new residence.
The grounds were decorated with potted plants and cacti. More patio furniture than you could shake a fist at completed the picture.
“Wow, this place is amazing,” Jillian said, dropping her suitcase on the sandstone tile deck.
“You can say that again. This is one time when the pictures didn’t do it justice,” I said, still gazing around at our surroundings.
“And the picture of you and Beau?” she asked, one eyebrow raised.
I frowned at her, my stomach twisting slightly. “Jillybean, it’s nothing.”
She squinted her eyes at me. “Really? Because the looks on your faces…”
I closed my eyes. “In your imagination. He’s pissed at me. I’m pissed at him. That’s all that was. I promise.”
Jillian’s bullshit meter was strong. The unamused look on her face told me she didn’t believe me one bit. But this time she was definitely wrong. There was nothing going on between us.
