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“That wasn’t meant for your eyes.”
“Oryoureyes, apparently.”
“For fuck’s sake. I’m never sitting next to you again,” I grumbled. “How long were you snooping over my shoulder, anyway?”
“Long enough.” He grinned. “She’s lying, by the way.”
“About what?”
“That was no accident, my dude. She meant to send you that picture.”
I’d wondered the same, honestly. I was torn. Part of me hoped it wasn’t an accident, that shewantedme to see her like that. Another part of me hoped she was telling the truth, that it was an accident—because pictures that hot made the best of men do dumb things. Like betray their best friends.
“How do you know?” I asked.
He laughed. “Bro. C’mon. Oldest trick in the book.”
Cale Cotton sat across the aisle from us. “Hey, what are you guys talking about?” the rookie asked.
“Rust’s texting this hot babe,” Dakota barked back. “She sent him a butt selfie. Says it was an accident.”
Suddenly, the others seated around us were interested in my business.
“Accident? Pft. Yeah right.”
“Was it a nice ass?”
“Phenomenal ass, actually,” Dakota said.
Word quickly spread through the plane:
“Way to go, Rusty!”
“What happened with Rust?”
“He scored that game winner and now puck bunnies are texting him nudes.”
“Nice!”
“Man, I want random hot chicks to send me some nudes!”
“Then maybe you should try to score a goal sometime, you fucking pigeon!”
“Bahahahaha!”
I leered at Dakota. “See what you started?”
“Oops. Sorry.” Dakota chuckled. “So how long has it been since you’ve gotten laid, anyway?”
“I don’t know,” I snarled. “I’m not focused on shit like that anymore. Let’s just say it’s been a while.”
“Welcome to modern dating, then,” he said. “Kinda fun, ain’t it?”
“We’re not dating.”
“You might not think so. But I bet you’ll be screwing her brains out soon enough.”
“Not gonna happen,” I said.
