Page 22 of What It Means To Be Found

Except for maybe Eloise, for planting the idea of sex in my head, and then immediately shutting it down before I could even give her a proper response.

Fuck, I didn’t realize how badly I wanted her until we had to suffer through the rest of the workout with Courtney unintentionally third-wheeling us.

Oh really, moron? I thought, The number of times you jerked off in the shower simply because she brushed her hands over your stomach didn’t clue you in?

I was pathetic.

Eventually, we wrapped up our workout at the gym. We cooled off on the treadmills, me at a light jog whereas the girls strolled leisurely and held a conversation the entire fifteen minutes we were there. Then, we went over to the black mats near the front of the gym and stretched.

I was stretching forward, touching my toes with my hands when I glanced up and saw Eloise dislocate her hips mid-conversation.

Alright, she didn’t really dislocate her hips. I just couldn’t fathom stretching the way she was. She had leaned forward, pressing her palms flat in front of her as she tucked one of her legs high up, almost against her stomach. Her other leg was fully stretched out behind her. She then planted her hips down, over her tucked leg, and folded forward. She crossed her arms over each other and everything, continuing to chat with Courtney about who-the-fuck-knows-what as she became a human pretzel.

I was frozen mid-stretch, ignoring the pull in my hamstrings as I stared at her profile as she did this. The stretch did interesting things to her ass, which looked fantastic in those little bike shorts she was wearing.

Snapping fingers in my vision interrupted my thoughts, making me blink a couple of times and glare at Courtney.

“Were you paying attention to what we were saying?” Courtney asked, giving me a look that let me know she would for sure be roasting me for staring at Eloise’s ass later. It wasn’t even the first time I had stared at her ass tonight but, as far as I knew, it was the first time I had been busted for it.

What? I asked as I sat back up. I leaned back on my hands on the mats as I pretended to care about whatever Courtney had to say.

“Beach day, next weekend. You in?”

Was Eloise going to be there? Would she be wearing even less clothing than she was now?

Yes, I replied without really thinking too much more about it. I glanced over to the small woman who plagued my thoughts. She gave me a small, nervous smile in return. Holy fucking shit, did Eloise just smile at me? I was positive that was the first time that had happened since the first time we met and I was a grade-A prick to her.

A win is a win.

I followed the women out of the gym. The sun was setting, painting the sky in pinks and oranges. The glare from the sunset lit up Eloise’s blonde hair, which helped me keep my gaze on the back of her head as I saw them safely to their car. I waved as Courtney and Eloise pulled out of the parking lot and I walked a few feet over to my truck, replaying every moment tonight with Eloise.

To my knowledge, I hadn’t accidentally done anything to offend her.

And to top it all off, she gave me a small smile at the end of the night.

Hope sparked in my chest, and a little bit of excitement as well. I couldn’t remember the last time I had pursued a woman, because frankly, I hadn’t really needed to since I joined the NHL after college. There was always someone available, most of the time looking for something easy with no strings attached like I was.

Would Eloise want strings attached?

The thought made me pause as I reached for the handle of my truck. If anyone saw me, they would probably think I had forgotten how to open a car door. Shaking my head once and stepping up into my vehicle, I thought about that question a little more before deciding that it was a little too early to think about it. First, I needed to find a way to confirm that Eloise did, in fact, want to sleep with me. If she wasn’t even interested in sex, then the thought of a relationship with her was wasted energy. One step at a time.

***

Sometimes, more often than I’d like, I wanted to strangle my agent.

This was one of those times.

Connor James stood back behind the cameras in grey slacks and a perfectly pressed button-up shirt, staring down at his phone. His dark blonde brows furrowed at whatever he was reading. Not paying attention at all to the fuckery he was putting me through today.

Connor was also the agent of two other players on my team. Apparently, the Ducks' social media manager decided that we needed to spend more time online during the off-season to hype everybody up. Overall, we didn’t play well last year, and I guess by the end our ticket sales had proven that. When the social media manager, whose name escaped me, told Connor what she had in mind, he wasted no time agreeing.

Even though I hated this type of shit.

So here I was, taking my turn to pose wearing far too little hockey gear. Earlier today we filmed some shots at the rink where we all lip-synced to a popular trending sound on the internet. I was only included in about two seconds of the clip, and I had no idea why we were lip-syncing to a pop song, but I was contractually obliged to put up with a certain level of bullshit.

Was this considered pornographic? I asked myself. How else would you describe me wearing nothing but hockey pants and skates, posing in front of a white background with a freshly oiled and bare chest?

“Holy shit,” I heard our team social media manager breathe, and I turned to give her an annoyed look as she stared at me. “If anything, this content will definitely get more women to support the team.”

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