Page 7 of Perfect Boy

Ryann

The other dancers and I walk toward the studio. When I got out of work last night, I was greeted with an email stating that Jolene had chosen pairs and that we needed to come in today so she could inform everyone who they would be working with.

Yippee. Hurray. Wonderful.

There’s no jock inside of the studio right now that I will allow myself to get close with. Not. One.

“Let’s get this over with, ladies,” I mutter, pulling the studio door open. “I really don’t want Cade Huff. He’s a whole fucking mess.”

“He’s so hot though,” Lana gushes. “I love a bad boy. Remember bad-boy Brody O’Brien? The dude who started this charity? Well, before he grew a heart and fell in love, I got to ride that train.” Her eyes go full doe-eyed as she speaks. “He had no clue who I was a few weeks later when we had a run-in at the coffee shop. But that one blissful half hour?” She fans herself with her hand. “I’m melting, just thinking about it. He. Was. Huge. But more than that, he surrrre knew how to use it.”

“You know what else does a good job, Lana?” I whisper. “Vibrators. And I’m pretty sure they probably have a higher IQ than the hockey players we’re about to work with. And they probably give a better orgasm too.”

She responds, but I’m distracted by the heated exchange between Sutton and Hunter Thompson. He smirks, whispering something in her ear. And her cheeks heat. But not like she’s blushing. No, homegirl is downright mad. There’s a lot to unpack between the two of them, but I know she’ll share when she’s ready.

Just like me, she’s keeping secrets. And who am I to force them out of her when I’ve got my own skeletons in my closet?

As some of the hockey team files in, Watson Gentry struts through the door. His hat is backward, and his gray T-shirt hugs his body in the best and most annoyingly perfect way. But the most obnoxious thing about him is the black sweatpants that make my traitorous mouth water.

He’s hot. There’s absolutely no denying that. And I hate that my eyes drink him in like a tall glass of icy-cold water. But given the fact that he’s a puck boy, I’m sure he doesn’t even remember me by now. I know how fast hockey players move. Or any jocks for that matter. Besides, if he’s that hot, maybe his dick is the size of a baby carrot. Yep, I’ll go with that as a deterrent. He has to have some deep, awful, major flaw. No one can be that perfect.

Stopping directly in front of me, he flashes me a dimpled grin, tipping his head toward me slightly and making my heart flutter the smallest bit. “Well, if it isn’t the girl who did not want me pissing on her to mark my territory.” He winks. “Ryann Denver.”

And before I have a chance to even think about responding, he struts off to join his teammates, folding his arms over his chest and not sparing me a second look.

Well, I’ll be damned. He did remember me.

I’m still not falling for it. All puck boys are players who are not to be trusted. I’m going to work with them and come up with a badass routine because that’s what I have to do for this fundraiser and to appease Jolene. But under no circumstances will I build a friendship or have sex with whoever I get paired up with. No way.

It’ll be easy. I’m not worried. Not at all.

Puck boys aren’t even my weakness. I’ll be fine. Everything is totally under control.

Yeah … sure it is.

Watson

The second our names leave Jolene’s lips, I watch Ryann’s entire body stiffen and her eyes roll up to the sky as she huffs out a breath—clearly annoyed that she just found out she’s working with me. And me? I can’t wipe the grin off my face because I got the hottest dance partner here. And all that spice packed in her hot little body? I get to have my hands on that.

I’m a nice guy. A respectful man. She’s going to learn to like me. After all, it’ll be hard to hate each other while having practices multiple times a week. But I can’t say that her attitude won’t make it fun. Because it so will. I’ve always been drawn to fire. It keeps things interesting.

Hunter and his partner, on the other hand, really do hate each other. And when he looks at her, giving her an evil smirk, and she looks like she might actually kill him, I realize just how deep their rivalry might run. I don’t really know what made him hate Sutton Savage, but whatever it is or was, it’s far from buried.

Once we’re dismissed and told to exchange numbers with our partner and come up with a plan, I’m shocked when Ryann’s short stature comes and stands before me. She wastes no time telling me exactly how she feels. Not just by her words, but also her entire face.

“Look, I know you’re some high and mighty hockey player and I’m supposed to work around your schedule, but guess what. I have a job. I have school. And I have dance. I’m also busy. Just because I don’t have a willy between my legs or push a puck around the ice doesn’t make my schedule less important.”

“I don’t really push the puck around.” I shrug. “You know, goalie and all.” My lip twitches, and I try my best to keep it together. “Did you just say willy?”

“Dick. Peen. Penis. Snake. Or probably baby carrot, in your case,” she rattles off. “Call it whatever you want, but it doesn’t make you more important than me. Got it?”

“First off, I promise you, that last thing you rattled off? Baby carrot? Fuck. No.” I narrow my eyes. “Cucumber? Sure. And not the little ones either. Also, I never said having a dick makes me more important than you. You came up with that all on your own.” I shake my head, looking down at her. “I get it, Tiny Dancer. You’re busy. I’m busy. So, we can come up with a schedule that works for both of us.”

She seems taken aback by my words, and she frowns, pointing her finger at me. “Also, some ground rules. Rule number one, I’m not sleeping with you. So, just get that out of your head now. It’s not happening.”

“I never said it was happening.”

“You’re a dude. A jock. Don’t feign ignorance with me. And you know that whole thing in class the other day—you pretending like you were nervous and then acting like you’d been waiting to meet me? All. An. Act. I saw through it.” She puts a hand on her hip. “Anyway, like I said, it’s not happening. Ever. Rule number two, I come up with the routine. Choreography is what I’m in school for, so I’d like to be in charge. No, scratch that. I am in charge.”

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