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He rolls his eyes and scoffs loud enough for me to hear even over the almost deafening roar filling the bar. “Do me a favor and don’t patronize me, okay? I know I had a good game. That’s never been a question.”
“Then what is it?”
He opens his mouth. He closes his mouth. Finally, he sighs. “I don’t know, man. There’s something off with me.”
“Don’t tell me you’re getting sick or something.”
“No, nothing like that.”
“Hey. For real.” I wait for him to look my way before clapping a hand over his shoulder. “You need anything, you know you can talk to me. Right? That’s never going to change.”
“I know. Thanks.” His smile is brief enough that I might have imagined it, and he quickly polishes off his beer. “I think I’m gonna go back to the hotel. I’m not feeling it tonight.” He glances around and snickers. “I thought we partied back home.”
He’s got a good point. The ice isn’t the only place where the intensity picks up in this strange new world we’ve landed in. A few of the guys are currently doing shots to see which of them can drink the most and still be able to walk a straight line. There’s a crowd around them, most of them laying bets on who will win. A couple of the players who I happen to know are married have drifted off to dark corners with eager looking girls. There’s dancing all around us, the floor is sticky with spilled alcohol, I can barely hear myself think over the laughter, cheering, squealing.
As tired as Ash seems with all of it, the opposite is true for me. I’m buzzing — alive, vibrating with energy. I want to celebrate a win. Who knows if I’ll get another chance like this?
Still, I sort of feel like I have to be a decent friend. “Want me to come with you?”
“No way. Have fun.” This time, there’s no asking myself if I imagined the look that comes over his face. Even in the vaguely purple light coming from the neon signs over the bar, I can read it plain as day. He’s concerned. Doubtful.
Suspicious? He should know me better than that. I don’t want to call him out on it and start anything, but I can’t help wanting to ask him what the hell he’s thinking. It’s not like I would do anything to jeopardize what we have with Harlow.
Not like there hasn’t been plenty of opportunity already.
But I’ve been a good boy. And I will be now that Ash is leaving, raising his hand to say good night as he exits.
The fact is, I’ve never been a cheater, but I can understand why some of these guys can’t seem to stay faithful. Women find out you’re a pro athlete and they make it their mission to hook up with you. They might as well launch themselves out of a cannon. That’s how it feels tonight, when everywhere I look, there are wide eyes inviting me. Sexy smiles. Women in short skirts and tight dresses, women with long hair they swing close to your face as they lean in to shout at the bartender, asking for a drink. Women who brush their bodies against mine and offer coy, flirty smiles.
Smiles I can’t ignore. I never could. I’m a natural flirt – I always have been, ever since I discovered the difference between boys and girls. I like women, what can I say? I like being around them. And I like it when they like me.
That doesn’t mean my feelings for Harlow have changed. Far from it. I miss her like crazy and have used our last night together as jerk-off material in the shower more than once. It’s nice to know she’s home waiting for me. I can’t wait to tell her all about this experience.
But there are certain things I’ll leave out. Like how damn difficult it is to turn away from the latest coy, welcoming smile offered by a petite brunette with tits I would’ve liked to fuck under different circumstances.
“You’re one of the Orcas, aren’t you?” She practically has to shout to be heard, and even then I need to lean down to hear her better.
“I am.” I’m not trying to explain the whole two-way contract situation, and I doubt she’d care, either way. I’m a player right now, and that’s what she cares about.
“That is so hot. Hockey players are my favorite.” Like she’s talking about the food she likes best to eat, or the music she likes to listen to. Out of all sports, hockey players are her favorite. Doesn’t matter which one.
“Cool.” Do not engage. Do not. It took long enough to get Harlow to a point where we could have a relationship, unusual as it is. I’m not going to screw that up for some girl whose face I won’t remember by morning.
No matter how tempting she is when she presses her arms together and practically presents her tits to me. Her deep cleavage is plainly visible thanks to the low-cut tank top tucked into a pair of jeans so tight, they might as well have been painted on her body. My dick twitches, but that’s an unconscious reaction. I can’t help it.
What I can help is the way my gaze keeps darting down toward her cleavage.
Maybe I should’ve left with Ash, after all.
And maybe, just maybe, our unusual arrangement isn’t the arrangement for me if I’m having such a hard time disassociating from the fun going on all around me. I can see myself living in this world. I can see it all too easily.
But how could I, and still stay faithful to Harlow?
Did I make a mistake committing to her in the first place?
5
HARLOW
