Chapter 4

My embarrassment is far from over as my dad and I take the elevator to my apartment. I hug him when we reach my floor, thank him for the pancakes, and tell him I’ll see him later. He asks for the seven-hundred-and-fifth time if I’m okay. I tell him I’m preoccupied because I have a project due on Monday. This is not untrue, but it’s ninety-five percent finished. I don’t typically lie to my dad unless it’s to avoid hurting his feelings, but in this case, I can’t tell him the truth. Better for him to believe it’s school stress.

I’m relieved when the elevator doors slide closed, allowing me the nervous freaking breakdown I spent all our meal fighting. I don’t know why Hollis thought it was a good idea to bring my vibrator to the restaurant masquerading as a gift. I would honestly be fine with that remaining an eternal mystery, but avoiding him forever will be a challenge.

I try not to think about the fact that Hollis touched my Batdick when he rolled it in that towel. But now the idea is in my head, and my mind is sinking into the gutter. I wonder if he’s ever fucked someone with their vibrator. I try to blink away the sudden image of me spread out on his bed, naked, and him wearing a too-small towel, holding it.

“Ugh, this needs to stop,” I mutter as I let myself into my apartment.

Rix stopped answering messages about twenty minutes ago, so she’s probably with Tristan. Getting laid. I sigh. I wish I had someone who sent me gifts all the time and wanted to be naked with me. Tristan worships the ground she walks on. It’s been months since my last date. With a pro-hockey-player dad, university guys don’t get my life.

“Fuck.” I almost trip over Tristan’s giant sneakers because he’s left them in the middle of the floor.

I have just enough time to anxiety pee before Hollis knocks. I know it’s him because he raps three times quickly, then pauses and knocks twice more. I wipe my damp palms on my jeans, take a deep breath, and throw open the door. Hollis’s winter jacket is unzipped, revealing his black Toronto Terror hoodie with the angry Canada goose emblem. His jeans do an annoyingly great job of highlighting his amazing hockey thighs.

I wish he wasn’t so hot. I also wish I hadn’t left my vibrator on his nightstand like an idiot, because it says more than I’d like about my feelings for him. But I can’t take it back, so the only way forward is to deal with it. It doesn’t mean I plan to be honest; it just means we get to have this awkward conversation. Hopefully once it’s over, I can forget about it for the rest of my life. Not likely.

This is probably the most mortified I’ve ever been. And that’s saying something since I’ve accidentally seen my dad’s wiener twice in the past six months.

“Explain.” Hollis steps inside and crosses his arms.

His gruff tone and one-word order do all kinds of conflicting things to my body. I’m sweaty, I’m anxious, and now I’m horny. It’s made that much worse by his deliciously furrowed brow and pouty lips.

I let the door fall closed and mentally will the flush making its way up my chest to stop before it reaches my cheeks. Based on the heat level in my face, I’m unsuccessful. “I didn’t mean to forget Batdick at your place.” Or to refer to it as Batdick. But I can’t take either thing back.

“I fucking hope not,” Hollis grumbles.

“You won’t tell my dad, will you?” I throw up a little in my mouth at the possibility.

He stares at me but says nothing.

I get on my pro-self-exploration high horse. “I am an adult, and I do have needs.” I immediately want to pluck those words from his ears and stuff them back into my ridiculous mouth.

His cheek tics. “Why are you taking care of them in my goddamn bed?”

He’s so hot when he’s angry. I cross my arms and spew more nonsense. “You don’t know that for sure.”

He tips his head.

If panties were made of sugar, mine would melt off my body from his expression alone. “Maybe it fell out of my bag while I was playing with the kitties.”

He pokes at his top lip with his tongue. “Onto my nightstand?”

I swallow ten liters of anxiety saliva. “Postie likes to go in there and hunt for treats.”

“And one of those treats was your vibrator?” He holds up a hand when I open my mouth.

“I need to tell you something important.” His nostrils flare with his exhale. “I put up kitty cams in the penthouse last week and forgot to tell you about them.”

“Kitty cams?” I parrot.

He runs a hand through his hair. “They’re movement activated. Ash and Shilpa have them for their dogs. I thought it would be good for away games.”

Ashish Palaniappa is one of my dad and Hollis’s teammates, and Shilpa, his wife, is the team lawyer and one of my friends. I blink at him. “Where are they?”

“The living room and my bedroom.”

My breath leaves me on a whoosh. I grab the edge of the counter for support. “You recorded me?”

“It was supposed to record Postie and Malone,” he reminds me.

I tug at the neck of my hoodie. “Did you…did you watch it?”

He recoils. “Of course not! I deleted it immediately.”

A tiny part of me is disappointed. The rest of me is relieved. Or maybe it’s the reverse. I can’t read his expression or tell if the idea disturbs him or what. “So you actually don’t know if anything happened. That’s you hypothesizing.” This is good. I can deny it. “Maybe I went into your bedroom to get the boys.”

His voice lowers to a growl that I feel in all the rightest-wrong parts of my body. “We both know that’s a lie because you forgot to wash my sheets.”

I open and close my mouth twice as we stare each other down. Another wave of humiliation washes over me. Which is very conflicting considering all the other things happening in my body. I try to keep my eyes on the floor, but they’re disobedient assholes and lift anyway.

“It’s the first time that’s ever happened,” I blurt.

“Elaborate,” Hollis demands.

“You…want me to tell you what exactly I did?”

His teeth grind together. “No, Peggy. I don’t want details. The first time what’s ever happened.”

“The whole thing. The everything.” Explaining this is a lot like tripping around landmines. I cannot show my hand. The only thing worse than having a crush on my dad’s best friend would be him finding out about it. “I was reading a spicy book and snuggling with the kitties, and I’d just gotten my new silicone friend, and one thing led to another, and I’m really sorry.” I mash my lips together, but it doesn’t stop the word vomit. “I meant to wash the sheets. You weren’t supposed to know. It won’t ever happen again.”

He drags his tongue across his bottom lip. They’re so full. So kissable.

I need to stop noticing these things. It’s making my vagina ping despite how awkward this is, or maybe because of it? It’s probably wrong that I half wish he hadn’t erased the video. Definitely wrong.

“This doesn’t explain why you ended up in my shower.” His low, gravelly tone makes my stupid nipples tighten.

My anxiety takes over, and I blurt out more honesty than I mean to. “I was all sweaty after the…” I wave my hand. “And I should have gone back to my place, or to my dad’s, but the shower was right there, and your jet placement is perfect for—” Why can’t I lie?

He arches one dark, sexy eyebrow. Fuck him and his hotness. No, no. No fucking my dad’s best friend, who is more than ten years older than me. The thought is already in my head, and my stupid imagination is forming a scene I’ll probably use as fodder later, when Batdick and I are alone.

“Perfect for what?” he grinds out.

“It’s just nicer.” Thank God I wasn’t completely honest for once.

His voice is raw silk dragged over bare skin. “And this is the first time you’ve done this? Taken care of your…needs in my bed?”

I run my tongue along my bottom lip. My mouth is so dry. I’ve already told him this. Maybe he’s trying to catch me in a lie. “Yes.”

His nostrils flare. His fists clench and release. His eyes close, and his words are barely audible when he murmurs, “If things were different…”

My breath leaves me on a whoosh. What does that mean? If things were different, then what? Would he want me the way I want him? Would the idea of me getting off in his bed turn him on instead of making things awkward between us? What if things were different?

“Hollis.” His name is barely a sound.

He shakes his head, and his lids flip open. From one second to the next, his entire demeanor shifts. “You have your own apartment. Why not take care of your needs there? Or your old bedroom at Roman’s. That would have been better than my bed.”

“You’ve seen my bedroom at my dad’s. I outgrew Barbie when I was nine.” I don’t have the heart to tell my dad that, though. “It doesn’t do a good job of setting the mood.”

“What’s wrong with your own apartment, then?” He’s back to disapproving.

“I have a roommate, and sometimes it’s nice to just let go and not worry about how much noise I’m making, or whether Rix can hear me through the door. It’s hard to relax when she’s home, and then it takes forever and there’s chafing.” Why can’t I quit when I’m ahead? Why do I keep spewing exceptionally blunt honesty?

Hollis holds up a hand. His head looks like it’s about to explode. “Stop.”

At least I’m not the only one mortified here. “Oh, God.” I raise my hand in front of my mouth. “Did those videos have sound?” I really let loose in every sense of the word when I did the unthinkable in his bed.

“No. At least I don’t think there’s sound. And like I said, I erased them without watching.” His voice is stern when he declares, “That can’t happen again. Ever.”

I’m about to agree—even if I don’t mean it—when a long, loud feminine moan filters down the hall. Obviously, Tristan and Rix are getting to the good part.

Hollis’s eyes flare as he glances toward the noise. He’s about to speak when another longer, louder moan interrupts. He clamps his mouth shut and waits until it’s over before he says, “Tristan’s here.”

“Yup.”

“Why don’t they go to Tristan’s?”

“To be fair, I went out for pancakes, and Tristan knows we do this, so he probably thought it was safe.” Based on the sounds, they’re getting close to the end. Of round one. Most of the time they do go to Tristan’s, but occasionally I’ve come home in the middle of one of their exceptional fuckfests. “The walls are thinner than they realize.” And they have phone sex every night when they have away games. I haven’t told her how thin the walls are because I really don’t want to make her feel bad. Usually, I just go up to see the kitties or clean my dad’s place until they’re done.

Hollis’s eyes go to the ceiling. “Well, shit.” He shakes his head and licks his lips. “Use my place if you need it.”

“Seriously?” This is a twist I didn’t expect.

He holds up a hand and eyes me from the side. “I don’t want to know about it or see evidence of it.”

My lady parts clench. “Yes, sir.”

His eyes narrow. “And only the spare bedroom.”

“Yeah, ’cause I guess a video of me touching myself is probably pretty conflicting,” I mutter.

He purses his plush lips.

I cringe. “Sorry. Let’s forget I said that. Do you want the towel back?”

“No. You keep that.”

“Okay. Cool. Thanks. I’m sorry we had to have this super-awkward conversation.”

“Never speak of it again.”

“Sounds good.” I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I clasp them, then drop them at my sides.

“I’m gonna go,” Hollis announces.

“Okay.” I follow him to the door. “We’re okay, right?” I bite the inside of my cheek.

His face softens. “Yeah. Of course, Princess.”

“I need to hydrate before you turn me into a sex pretzel again!” Rix rounds the corner and comes to an abrupt halt. Tristan almost knocks her over.

“Oh, hey, Hollis. Hammer.” Tristan’s gaze flits between us.

“Tristan.” Hollis salutes him and Rix and disappears into the hall.

Rix’s eyes are wide. She turns to Tristan, who is currently wearing only a pair of black boxer briefs. “You need to get dressed and go home.”

He gives her a disbelieving look. “But I just got here. We have five days to make up for. I’ve missed you.”

“Hammer and I have something we need to deal with.”

He stands there, looking unimpressed.

“If you go now, that thing we did two weeks ago is on the table later.”

He turns around and disappears down the hall.

“So predictable.” She waits until her bedroom door closes. “What just happened? Do I need to call a girls’ summit?”

“Probably.” I rub my temples. “That was so freaking awkward.”

“Let me get Tristan out of here. Then we can talk.”

A minute later, he reappears, looking a lot like a disgruntled bear.

“I’m sorry in advance for the conversation my dad is going to have with you tomorrow at practice. I kind of used you as a scapegoat, not on purpose,” I say as he jams his feet into his shoes.

“Can’t be easy to balance having your dad around all the time and in every part of your personal business.” How he grunts that entire sentence is a wonder. He turns to Rix and wraps his hand gently around her throat as he leans in to brush his nose against hers. “Bea, your ass is mine later. Love you.” He slips out the door. He’s the only person who calls her Bea.

Rix slides her phone out of her back pocket. “Sorry I missed a bunch of messages. You know Tristan and waiting.”

She thumb-types vigorously, and a few seconds later my phone buzzes with a text. There’s a few minutes of back and forth before she slides her phone into her back pocket. “Does this call for nachos and margaritas?”

“Yes. Heavy on the margaritas.”

Twenty minutes later, Hemi Reddi-Grinst, the director of team PR who I interned with during my fall semester; Tally Vander Zee, the coach’s daughter; and Dred Reformer, who lives in the apartment across the hall from Flip, arrive. Dred has recently become a regular fixture in our group. She and Rix’s brother have also started hanging out, and much to our surprise, they’re completely platonic. She has some kind of superpower that makes Flip a rational person.

Anyway, these ladies are my girl squad. It often also includes Shilpa, but she’s out with Ashish tonight. I have school friends, but they don’t really understand me like these women do.

“Okay. What in the sweet hell happened? You look like you’re on the verge.” Hemi makes a circle motion around her face.

I explain the situation—how I’d planned to go back later, but the team came home early. I leave out the kitty-cam part, though.

“Why didn’t you go across the hall to your dad’s place? You still have a bedroom there,” Hemi asks.

“Because my dad decorated it, and I don’t have the heart to tell him I’ve outgrown bubblegum pink.”

Hemi cringes.

“It is sweet that he tried,” Tally says.

He put so much effort into it and I don’t want to make him sad that I don’t like it anymore. It’s one of those instances in which I won’t be truthful with him. My dad is the most important person in my life.

“But you two are okay? He won’t say anything to Roman?” Hemi asks.

“What could he say? Hey, buddy, your daughter got herself off in my bed. Want to talk to her about it?” Dred asks.

“Roman would murder him,” Rix says. “With his bare hands.”

“Hollis won’t say anything.” I probably shouldn’t have said anything either. I run my hands up and down my thighs. “Maybe we should talk about literally anything else.”

The girls exchange a look but roll with it.

“How about the guest list for the gala?” Hemi suggests.

“Yes!” I slap my thighs. The gala is my baby this semester and a way for me to prove I have the skills to organize and manage a large-scale event. It’s an ambitious undertaking, but if I pull it off, it will be an incredible addition to my resume—and get me an A in Event Management. “I actually have a great idea.”

“All your ideas have been great so far,” Hemi praises. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’re taking this on. It’s been a rough transition going from two extra sets of hands to zero.”

Tally and I both worked with Hemi last semester, and it was my dream internship. All I want is to work in the Terror organization again. “Do you need me to take on anything else? Besides the gala?” I’m all about channeling my nervous energy into something constructive.

“The gala is a full-time project on its own, but I appreciate the offer. I’ll get things under control.” Hemi sips her water. “You said you had an idea?”

“Right. Yes! So, Dallas and Flip attended the Hockey Academy, right?”

“Yeah. They went to the summer program when they were in high school.”

“What if we extend an invitation to their staff? It’s run by a team of legends. How cool would it be to have Alex Waters and Rook Bowman come to the gala? Or even better, Kodiak Bowman. He’s on track to be the MVP this year. That might be shooting for the stars, but it would be amazing to have support outside of the team for this charity event.”

“I love it. Do you want me to call?” Hemi asks.

“I can handle it. If I need any follow-up, I’ll let you know.” I need to prove I’m capable of handling this on my own. Otherwise it just looks like nepotism. My dad worked so hard for his career, and I don’t want anyone to think I didn’t do the work.

“Sounds good.” Hemi smiles warmly. “This is shaping up to be our best one yet.”