Page 14 of Testing the Goalie

“I’m really looking forward to watching you play again,” the puck bunny says, running her finger over my arm. Goose bumps break out across my skin, but not the good kind.

“Cool. Do you know Pawker’s address? I getting ride,” I tell her, and her smile grows.

“Could I share it with you?”

I shake my head. “Sorry. I too dwunk. I don’t tink I can even get it up,” I lie.

She pouts but gives me the address anyway. “Next time you’re not so drunk, you should call me,” she suggests. “Do you still have my number?”

I nod even though I’m positive I don’t have it, then text Ian the address. I’m not sure if he’ll actually show up, but it’s worth a shot. If he doesn’t, I’ll just sleep in this chair. I’m sure no one will give a fuck if I do.

Apparently, I must have passed out at some point and am woken by a shaking. “Your ride’s here,” the dude who told me I was at Parker’s house says, and I stare at him, super confused.

Did I order a ride? Maybe I did and just forgot. I am pretty fucking drunk.

“Tanksss, man,” I slur, stumbling toward the front of the house.

I stare at the cars, searching for a ride share, when my eyes land on Ian who is scowling hard. Shit, he’s clearly pissed off. How come I find him really sexy like this?

“You came!” I cheer, climbing into the passenger seat.

“I shouldn’t have,” he grumbles, pulling away the second my seat belt is fastened.

“Arrre yooou gonna get in twouble?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I doubt it. Most people were too drunk to recognize me. Where do you live?”

I stare out at the streetlights, trying to recall my address, but it doesn’t come to me.

“Dunno,” I finally respond, making Ian sigh.

Leaning my head against the cool glass, my eyes become heavy. My head is fuzzy, and I can’t tell if it’s the car’s vibration or the lingering effects of the alcohol. Vaguely, it registers I’m supposed to tell Ian something, but before I can figure out what that is, my eyelids fall, and I drift off.

CHAPTER EIGHT

IAN

Hunting Ben down and picking him up from that house party was stupid. If someone saw me driving Ben and reported it to the dean, I have no excuse for why I was doing it.

When I received his first text, I knew I had to get him to ensure he was safe. And even though this has the possibility to all blow up in my face, I’m glad he’s with me.

I wish I knew where he lived. But Ben is too drunk to remember, which means I’ll have to bring him back to my house for the night and decide what I’m going to do in the morning. At the very least, I will have to fill out some paperwork saying that Ben and I have a history so things don’t bite either of us in the ass.

If tonight proves anything, it’s that I’m addicted to Ben Cooper. If I wasn’t, I could have ignored his texts, but the instant his contact information lit up my phone, I opened the text without hesitation.

For the last couple of weeks, since he’s reentered my life, Ben has been all I’ve thought about, and it felt like fate when he finally texted me. I could say this will be the last time I do something stupid, but it won’t be. Ben is my kryptonite.

When I pull into my driveway, Ben is snoring, and I give his shoulder a gentle shove. “We’re here,” I whisper, and he slowly opens one eye.

“Where’s here?” he questions in a drunken yet sleepy voice.

“My housesince you apparently forgot where you live. I have a spare bedroom for you to sleep off your drunken stupor in.”

“I’d prefer your bedroom,” he murmurs, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“You’re too drunk for that,” I tell him, and he shrugs before nearly falling out of my car when he opens the door.

I rush to his side to help him, shaking my head.

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