Page 45 of Ice, Love, & Other Penalties

I can still taste her, the sweetness of honey that clung to her lips, an addictive flavor that has imprinted itself on me. That kiss was reckless, dangerous, but oh so addicting. Now she wants to leave. The mere thought sends a pang of longing through me, so intense it borders on physical pain.

A longing that shouldn’t exist, but I need to satiate. I’ve never felt this desperate before. Never needed someone like a drug, like air. And I know it’s just lust, nothing else.Well no, that’s not true. It might also be madness. It’s probably the lack of sex.

What if I try to fuck someone tomorrow night after the game? Will this go away?

But I know the answer is no. It’s her that I want. Her mouth, her body, her . . . Everything. Just for one night or as long as she’ll have me.

Ty: Yeah, we definitely had a moment. Great kiss, five out of five stars. Now that you finally admit that there’s heat between us, will you accept my proposition?

Indie: Have I mentioned I don’t like to be tangled up with hockey players?

I raise my eyebrows. Has she been with a hockey player before? Or at least in love with one?

Ty: You never mentioned that before but tell me more. Were you in love with one and he broke your heart?

Indie: I’ve never been in love.

Ty: You don’t need to lie to me, darling. This is a judgment-free zone.

Indie: I’m not lying. Did I have a stupid girl crush? Sure, but I wasn’t in love. How about you? Have you been in love?

Ty: A couple of times. Nothing earth-shattering, no broken hearts. Probably some disappointment, but that’s all.

Indie: You disappointed her?

Ty: Why would you think I’m the one who did something wrong? Anyway, I just realized you’re one of those.

Indie: One of what?

Ty: Those people who like to drag information from others, but refuse to give any away.

Indie: I do like information. Isn’t there a saying, information is power?

Ty: I don’t think there is, but you can make it a thing. Now tell me which hockey player broke your heart.

Indie: No one broke my heart, it was just a stupid childhood-crush.

Ty: What’s his name? Tom, Jack, Peter?

Indie: It’s old history, let it go.

Ty: If it was, you wouldn’t mind telling me his name.

Indie: His name is Frederick. He was my brother’s friend.

It takes me only a second to realize that she might be talking about someone I know. Frederick Rossi was a rookie when I played for the Boston Blizzards. He claimed to be best friends with Jude Decker. He used that name a lot to score women.

And of course, I dare to ask her:

Ty: Are we talking about Frederick Rossi?

Indie: Leave it alone.

Ty: Okay, so we’re talking about him.

Indie: There are thousands of men named Frederick.

Ty: But not many were born in Seattle, play hockey, and are close friends with a Decker. He liked to tell everyone about his best friend.

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