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“I told him before we could do anything he needed to watch the video of me on the ice. He started watching it then stopped when he realized what had happened.”
“You told him to watch a video of your coochie?” Rachel asks. “Why would you do that? Some kind of weird foreplay?”
“No. I wanted him to know what he was getting into. That I have history. If it ever comes out, he should know in advance.”
She sniggers.
“Not like that. You have a dirty mind.”
“Oh honey, I’m not the one who’s been making the beast with two backs with a hottie hockey player.” She clears her throat. “So was it good?”
I take a breath. “Yes.”
She squeals again. Louder this time. I send out a silent apology to the people of Manhattan. “I knew it. He’s a hockey player. They’re notorious for being the best kind of lovers.”
“My dad’s a hockey player,” I point out, feeling icky. “And my brothers.”
“Except them,” she adds quickly. “They’re crap.”
“I don’t know if that’s any better.”
She lets out a sigh. “We’re getting off track here. Fuck your family – not literally because eww – can we get back to Eli Salinger?”
“Why do you keep saying his whole name?” I ask her. “It sounds weird.”
“Because he’s Eli Salinger,” she whispers. “There are fan sites devoted to him.”
“What kind of fan sites?” I ask, because I haven’t actually Googled him. Maybe I should.
But then I’d be as bad as all the people who watched my video, wouldn’t I?
“Ones that Photoshop his head onto naked bodies.”
I wrinkle my nose. I’m definitely not looking now. “Why would they do that?”
“Because most women don’t get to see his naked body in real life. Is it awesome? Is he buff?” She lets out a laugh. “Of course he is. Do you think he’d mind if you took a picture and sent it to me?”
“I’d mind,” I tell her. “So no.”
“I was just kidding. Ask Goran to do it instead.”
“Shut up.” There’s a beep on my phone, and I’ve never been happier to hear it. “I’ve got to go. There’s another call coming in.” It’s actually an Instant Message. The alert sounds are different, but Rachel doesn’t need to know that.
“Just draw me an approximation,” she says quickly. “In fact, don’t bother. I’m going to search for hockey porn.”
“Goodbye, Rachel,” I say dryly, ending the call. I pull the phone back to see the message, a stupidly big smile pulling at my lips when I see the author.
Meet me in the locker room at seven tonight. – Eli
It’s stupid how happy that small message makes me.
And then I remind myself not to get too excited. This is just a casual thing. That’s what I wanted, isn’t it?
What if I’m busy? – Mackenzie
Three little dots appear on the screen. He’s typing back.
Are you busy? – Eli
