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CHAPTER 5
RIX
After five days of living with my brother and Tristan, I’ve learned a few things. First, the media isn’t blowing my brother’s extremely prolific sex life out of proportion. He changes women as frequently as he changes his underwear. It’s a little disappointing if I’m honest.
In high school, he dated the same girl for two years. They broke up when they went to different universities. By twenty, Flip was playing professional hockey, and since then, he’s adopted an entirely different attitude. I get that attention comes with fame, but most players calm down after a year or two. Flip seems to keep ramping up instead.
I’ve also learned that it doesn’t matter how often I clean the bathroom. Within twelve hours, his side looks like a bomb site. Flip has a habit of leaving his towel bunched up on the floor. Adding bleach to the wash cycle helps remove the funk.
Third, I now understand why the fridge was practically bare when I arrived. It’s impossible to keep groceries in this house. I’ve been shopping twice already, and I need to go again tomorrow. I bought the first round, but Flip gave me a wad of cash to cover subsequent trips because he’s aware they eat an excessive amount of food.
But the most frustratingly annoying thing about living with my brother and his disgustingly hot asshole of a best friend is that they constantly walk around in their underwear. Half the time they leave the door open when they pee. And apparently neither of them knows how to flush.
I’m currently hiding out in the loft, comparing grocery flyers so I can price match as many items as possible. I also use an app, but sometimes there are hidden gems in the flyers. Ice cream is on sale this week. Not my preferred brand, but I’m an ice cream addict, so I’ll buy the cheaper stuff even if it isn’t as satisfying. I started my price-matching mission at the kitchen island, but Tristan came out in his black boxer briefs, looking like a delicious hate-fuck. I didn’t want to get caught ogling, so I moved to the loft where I can steal the occasional peek without his notice.
My phone pings with a new message. My chest tightens when I see Rob’s name on the screen. His I-miss-you message has been eating at me. Mostly because it feels unfair to send it and then go back to crickets for days.
The internal battle is real. I finally give in and check the message.
Rob
Checking in to see if you’re doing okay.
Responding right away puts the ball back in his court, and I’m not sure that’s where I want it, so I leave it and go back to my price matching. It annoyed Rob when I did this, and he refused to go shopping with me. Which was fine because I shopped with Essie anyway.
As I finish combing through the last flyer, someone knocks on the door. Hookups usually come over in the evening, so I’m curious who it could be.
Tristan answers the door. “Hey, guys, come on in.”
Two deep male voices filter up to the loft. “Where’s Madden?”
I shimmy to the edge of the couch for a better view. Two guys wearing baseball caps, with broad shoulders and asses I could bounce quarters off, stand in the middle of the kitchen. One is slightly shorter, with dark hair that curls under the edges of his ball cap. The other has tan skin and short hair. They’re clearly teammates. Tristan has put on shorts, but he remains shirtless.
“Still sleeping. He was out late,” Tristan replies.
I can confirm this. Flip came home at three a.m. and made a racket. He ate half the contents of the fridge, left a mess on the counter, and disappeared into his bedroom. Middle-of-the-night kitchen noise is preferrable to a woman screaming her brains out, though.
“I hope he finally gets this out of his system before the season starts,” the guy with the short hair says.
“We need him to channel some of that energy on the ice, instead of saving it all for the bedroom, or wherever he’s getting his fuck on,” his friend agrees.
“Hemi gave him shit earlier in the week, but I don’t know if it’s slowing him down much,” Tristan replies.
I slump as his gaze lifts to the loft.
“Like you’re any better, man,” one guy says.
“Hey, my dudes!” Flip’s sleep-raspy voice interrupts. “Give me five and we can get this party started.” The bathroom door closes.
My phone pings with a message from my bestie, asking to chat.
Rix
Bro’s teammates are here. Zero privacy right now.
Essie
Are they all dressed in underpants only?
Rix
Two are fully clothed. Bro is probably in underwear since he just woke up. Dickhead is wearing shorts, no shirt. It’s an upgrade from the boxer briefs earlier.
Essie
Or a downgrade. That guy is hotter than a ghost pepper.
