Page 204 of Well Played

His breath is heavy against my ear. “You’re beautiful.”

I smile and lay my head against his shoulder, content to stroke him with soft touches meant to make up for the fact that I probably clawed him up a little bit. He arches and gusts a laugh, then takes my hand and presses it flat.

“You’re ticklish?” I murmur.

I feel his quiet response in my chest. “Don’t tell anyone.” It settles in my heart and my stomach like a heavy weight. Does he mean that I shouldn’t tell anyone about what just happened? Should I be ashamed about this?

Immediately, my head goes to the worst possible scenario: he’s embarrassed by what just happened. By me. He wanted to get off and now he’s done. It’s been a long enough dry spell for me that I had almost forgotten how weird some guys are about sex and girls who enjoy it.

I shake my head and slide off his lap. I don’t meet his eyes when I say, “I won’t.” I wait a beat when he doesn’t move or say anything, then add, “You should go.”

He stands and adjusts himself, then reaches for his backpack, running his fingers through his already messy hair, tugging on the ends. I try not to think how my hands were tangled in thosesame strands mere minutes ago. For a second I think he’s going to say something. Instead, he stares at me with a muscle in his jaw ticking and his fists clenched.

Then he’s gone.

William

I just totally fucked up.I glare at myself in the library third floor men’s room mirror after cleaning myself off with some towels. I pride myself on reading the situation on the ice, yet Camille was upset and I just stood there like a dumbass, jizz drying on my skin and underwearlike a thirteen-year-old. Could she tell? I’m such an ass.Somethinghad been going through her head. Something I didn’t have the experience to read, let alone handle.

This is exactly why I don’t do relationships.

But…damn. Those noises she made while she was straddling me? I’m half-hard again just thinking about them. And the way her nose had scrunched up when she was telling me about changing her major? There’s no way I can leave it alone. Leave her alone. I need to make it right somehow.

I’ve never been much for socials, but I key into the Trinity app and our DMs from earlier.

Beast: I’m sorry if I took things too far. I didn’t mean to upset you.

Camille: I’m over it. I gave it up to my worry dragon. We’re good.

That doesn’t sound encouraging. I don’t want her to begood, I want her to give me another shot. One of the key skills of a goalie is a selective short-term memory. We’re able to easily let go of the saves that didn’t happen so we can effectively focus on what’s coming instead of the past. I channel that, and lay it all on the line.

Beast: I’d like to see you again.

There’s a pause. I hold my breath while I wait for those three jumping dots. Finally, they appear.

Camille: ?? You made it pretty clear it was a one-time thing.

Jesus, fuck. Seriously? I don’t recall saying that at all. One minute she was all satisfied-smiles and tickling-teases and the next she was asking me to leave. When did I have time to screw things up this badly?

Beast: I never said that at all and I’m sorry for whatever I did that made you think it. I guess I’m not good at conflict unless it’s something I can punch.

Another pause.

Camille: A text is better?

Oof. She may not be using her fists, but she’s taking shots and landing every single one of them. Still, I’m known for my coolness under pressure.

Beast: I see your point.

Beast: We could maybe grab a coffee or something after Watts’s class Thursday?

I don’t drink it. But I’m wracking my brain to come up with what I’ve seen guys like Patrick do when they want to date someone.

There’s a pause and those three dots jump, then jump again.

Camille: I think I have a math project meeting.

It takes me a full five seconds to realize she’s messing with me, using the excuse I gave Watts for why she couldn’t stay in his office. Something eases in my chest at her teasing.

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