Page 92 of The Bro-code

“We have nothing to say to each other.” I argue, more because I’m pissed off that he affects me so much, than because I don’t like having him so close.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he says, the arrogance completely gone from his tone. “You left me in that aircraft bathroom and when we landed, you vanished before I could talk to you. I thought I was never going to see you again.”

I don’t say anything. I had thought the same thing before I realized who he was.

“Bay,” he pleads, using my name for the first time. “Please say something.”

My gaze is fixed on his left pec. Looking into his eyes makes it too hard to gather my thoughts enough to have this conversation with him. “What do you want me to say? The second we crossed paths, you’ve been so rude. It’s obvious you and I don’t like each other.”

I shouldn’t be surprised when he disagrees.

“That’s bullshit. I don’t know about you, but I’m just playing. You’re funny when you get worked up. But we both know it’s just a bit of banter. I think we liked each other just fine in that bathroom, I?—”

Yeah, no. We’re so not going there. “That was a momentary lapse of judgment on my part. I was on my third flight in twenty-four hours, my journey had started in France. Isn’t it crazy what jet-lag makes people do?”

I don’t know if I’m asking that question to him or to myself.

It doesn’t matter because he doesn’t let my words distract him. “We both know jet-lag has nothing to do with what happened. There was an immediate spark of attraction between us. And before you start making up excuses, I know you felt it too.”

I did.

To the point that if he hadn’t used a hockey metaphor, I would have let him fuck me in that aircraft toilet. Or at the very least I would have let him finger me.

“What I might have felt doesn’t matter,” I say, opting for the truth. “Now that you know that I used to go out with Topher, I’m sure you understand why I have a rule against dating hockey players.”

He doesn’t look satisfied with my explanation. “First off,” he scowls. “I wasn’t talking about dating. I don’t date. But if you took the time to get to know me, you’d see that I’m nothing like your ex. He used to be a douche back in high school and from what I can see, he got even worse with time. What were you thinking about dating him for three years?”

I roll my eyes. “It’s a long story. Topher has a good side too and when he decides to show that side, he’s a completely different person.”

Ryker considers my words.

“So why are you judging every hockey player based on his actions?”

That’s a good question; one I’ve been asking myself during the long, lonely weeks I spent on Luca’s yacht.

“Because I realized that Topher might be a douche, but the environment you guys live in has a lot to do with how my relationship with him ended. Hockey players are treated like campus royalty, like gods. Rules don’t seem to apply to you guys. You get all sorts of privileges and women throw themselves at you constantly. You have puck bunnies, for crying out loud. Even the great guys like Cole are a walking red flag when you look at them as potential boyfriends. I don’t want to be another notch on another self-important hockey prick ever again. Are you satisfied with my answer now?”

Something shifts in his eyes and Ryker moves to the side, letting me run out to the backyard, away from his sexy and confusing presence.

“Hey, hey,” Cole stands up from the lawn chair he was sprawled on with a girl on his lap. I’ve seen them together a couple of times last year. “Bay, what’s going on?”

He grabs my arm, giving me no choice but to stop.

“Nothing,” I lie, refusing to meet his dark blue gaze. “I’m just so tired of these parties.”

I mean it.

Cole’s expression softens. “Come here, let’s go over there,” he points out to the space on the other side of the pool where a few couples are slow dancing. “You don’t have to hang out with anyone you don’t want to. Let’s make this our own party, what do you say? Dance with me, Bay.”

That sounds good. I let him guide me to the area he just pointed out.

The music is soft here, the lights not as bright.

Cole takes me into his arms and I immediately feel better.

The way I react to his tall, solid body against mine is confusing. On one hand, a jolt of awareness sparks from the needy spot between my legs and makes all my nerve endings come alive. On another hand, this is Cole. My best friend. A guy I adore and would trust with my life. He’s one of the most handsome men I’ve ever seen with his perfect body, his short blond hair, dark blue eyes and features so gorgeous he could put any Hollywood star to shame. But my feelings for Cole are deeper and more complicated than just the fact that I think he’s smoking hot.

He gets me.

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