Page 20 of The Pucking Wrong Man

Her face.

She was a fucking masterpiece. I’d never seen anything in my life as beautiful...as perfect as…

Fuck! I glanced around, a strange heat clawing up my neck. Everyone was seeing her like this. Everyone was seeing what was mine.

I was strangely proud and outrageously upset about it at the same time.

What was happening to me?

She spun and the light danced across her features again. I’m sure I looked like a fool, my mouth open in complete shock and amazement and awe as I watched her expression jump from joy and sorrow to longing and desire. I glanced down, realizing that I’d moved to the edge of my seat, my hands gripping the edge like I was trying to stop from lunging after her.

I thought I had cared about hockey more than anything, but staring at her, I wasn’t sure that I’d ever cared about anything—not if this was what it looked like.

I was mesmerized by her every gesture, every flick of her wrist, every tilt of her head.

Maybe magic was real. Maybe she was a witch. Maybe I’d fucking died and this was heaven.

Whatever was happening, it was outrageous and terrifying and I was pretty sure...

I was in love.

Holy shit…I was in love?

“Are you alright, Camden?” Geraldine’s voice cut through the haze. She’d noticed I was gripping the armrests like I was scared the chair was going to buck me off.

And fuck.

I was hard.

Not just hard, I had an erection that could cut glass. I was pretty sure that all the blood in my body was currently residing in my dick and that’s why I couldn’t think straight and I could pass out at any minute.

And I could feel Geraldine still eyeballing me.

I quickly tried to conjure up the image of Geraldine’s teeth floating in a water glass, bits of spinach still stuck between the crevices.

But not even that was enough to talk the big man down since I still hadn’t been able to unglue my eyes from my dancer.

What was I going to do?

I couldn’t have an erection around Geraldine.

It was a life rule in general, you should never have an erection around someone named “Geraldine.”

Especially the king of all erections. The record breaking, baseball-bat-sized, swing for the fences kind of erection.

Fuck, why was I using baseball references? I would blame that on the fact that my stepfather had called and left a voicemail for me earlier today. He’d always been a huge fan, trying to get me to play baseball instead of hockey all growing up.

Couldn’t think about him either. The idea of my stepfather and the girl on stage—my girl—was enough to make me want to punch someone.

I had lost my fucking mind.

As the final notes of the music faded away and she took a bow, a deep sense of panic...of loss washed over me. I didn’t want her to be done...to disappear from my view. I didn’t know what to do with myself if I couldn’t see her.

The curtains closed and I felt sick, as if I was coming down from some sort of high. Like the room had lost all color.

Like life had lost all meaning.

That may have been a little dramatic, but it was how I was feeling at the moment.

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