Page 90 of The Hat Trick

I never would’ve thought I would be seeing one guy a month ago, let alone three. They are back on the road, and I hate to admit that I miss them, but I do. I’m trying not to think about it too much because I feel like I might go insane if I do.

“Chelsea,” a voice calls out somewhere behind me. I don’t think too much about it, still stuck in my daydream of muscular, sweaty hockey men doing glorious things to my body.

“Chelsea.”

The memory that replays the most is when I had all three of them. At the same time. I’ve never done anything like that before. I never thought it was something I would evenwantto do.God, it was amazing, and I want to do it again. Ineedto do it again. To be so full by all three of them. Have them so focused on my body.

“Chelsea.”

They will do whatever I want, I know they will. Whatever will make me happy, give me pleasure. They love to watch me come, it’s like they are as addicted as I am, and I don’t even know how that’s possible. I don’t even think—

“Chelsea!” A hand slams down on my desk, yanking me out of my dirty daydream. I look up at my boss’s assistant, Natalie. She fucking hates me, which is stupid considering I’ve never done anything to her.

“I’ve been calling your name, why are you ignoring me?”

“Uh, my name isn’t Chelsea.” I narrow my eyes at her. She knows my name. I’ve worked here for three years, and it hasn’t changed.

She lifts her eyebrows like this is news to her.Bitch.

“It’s Chandler, but you knew that.” I smile brightly at her to hide the sarcasm.

“Is it? Hm, I thought that was a guy name.” She shrugs, and I narrow my eyes at her. “Boss wants to talk to you.”

Great.

“Do you know why?” I ask, stupidly.

“Nope,” she doesn’t even turn around to answer me.

I sigh, pushing away from my desk. I was much happier living in my daydream and now I’m dragging my feet while walking toward my boss’s office. Part of me wonders if I’m going to be fired. It wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. I’m just a marketing assistant and this is not my dream job by any means.

I like the graphic design element of marketing and when I first got offered this job, I was told that was what I would be doing. Three years later that has yet to happen, and I’m stuck with boring ass analytics and paperwork. I haven’t designed anything in years outside of small things I do on my own time for fun.

So yeah, I guess I’m okay if I get fired. Other than not having an income. That part would suck. I know Audrey would be able to cover me at least for a couple months since she makes decent money, but Denver is expensive.

I knock on the doorframe before entering. “You wanted to see me?”

George, is probably in his mid-sixties, gruff, and whatever the opposite of a people pleaser is. I’ve never had any particular problem with him, but I also have never really liked the guy.

“Ah, yes, come in,” he waves me into his cramped office, and I sit on the chair on the other side of his desk. “I thought I remembered you had shown interest in designing your own ad campaign before, correct?”

I sit up straighter. “Yeah, yes, I would love to.”

George looks pleased with himself that he remembered and that it is an accomplishment that should be commended, but I choose to ignore his reaction. Especially if he’s going to let me do this for real. This could open doors for me. I can add this to my resume, I can actually try to move onto somewhere better than this shit hole.

“Great, Natalie will send you an email with everything you need to know about the company, what they are looking for and all that,” he says dismissively.

“Thank you, it’s going to be great, I promise.” I stand from the chair, but he’s not looking at me, and he doesn’t say anything else as I leave his office.

I get back to my desk and try to smother my excitement. What really takes me off guard is that my first instinct is to text the group chat with the guys. I want to tell them the news and about how excited I am. I want them to be the first ones to know anything exciting happening in my life, but as soon as the thought comes another one takes over.

That they don’t care. They wouldn’t care. This is nothing to them. They are professional fucking athletes who have probably millions of fans and play for arenas full of them every few days. My news is nothing to them, and that’s why I hold back from saying anything. I know they are busy on the road anyway.

Instead, I lay my phone face down on my desk as I read over the email that just came through from Natalie and get to work.

* * *

For the first time in…everI have to force myself to leave work at five instead of counting down the seconds. I got so caught up in planning what I want to do for my new project that time actually flew by.

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