Page 29 of Pucking Only

But, Skyler had been pissed. Even though she’d told me not to follow her inside, I had. I’d watched as she made her way straight to Zander and the two had left the bar together.

After that, things get blurry.

All I really recall is lots and lots of shots. Too many shots. A nauseating number of shots.

At some point, I didn’t care. I just wanted to be shit faced so I didn’t have to think about what could possibly be happening between Skyler and Zander.

I do remember having no interest in hooking up with anyone else, though. That girl in the tight black dress had approached me at least two more times as the night had progressed. At one point, she outright invited me back to her place. I usually would have said yes without hesitation, but last night…it just didn’t appeal.

With a groan, I push my covers aside and force myself to slither out of bed. Making my way into the bathroom, I turn my shower onto the hottest setting I can stand. The water feels like tiny pinpricks against my too-sensitive skin, but the steam and the heat are soothing. I wash the smell of stale alcohol off my body, then dry off and drag on a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. Thankfully, there’s no practice today. Otherwise, I would be in a world of hurt.

I trudge through my apartment with the intent to collapse on my couch and not move for the next eight to twelve hours.

The layout of my place is pretty identical to Grace’s. The main difference between the two apartments is how clean, organized and homey hers is, versus how bare-bones and messy mine is. I’m not a pig — I throw my trash away and I’m not a hoarder by any means, but I don’t have a lot of decor like Grace. I really only have the basic furniture, like a leather couch, table and chairs, bed, etcetera.

Just before I can reach the living room, I’m surprised by aknock on my front door. Who the hell is bothering me when I’m recovering from marinating in tequila all night long?

Begrudgingly, I walk to the door and open it. To my surprise, Jensen is standing in the hallway, a big shit-eating grin on his face.

“Well hello there, sleeping beauty,” he greets.

“What are you doing here?” I grumble.

“Wilder called and said you had a rough night,” Jensen explains. “I thought I’d stop over and make sure you hadn’t puked yourself to death. Plus, I brought breakfast.”

He holds up a paper bag, the bottom of which is wet from grease. I can smell fried things inside the bag and my stomach gurgles a good way.

“All right,” I sigh. “Come in.”

I step aside to give him room to walk through the door and shut it behind him. He takes the bag of food into the kitchen. I reluctantly follow. I’m not in the mood for a lecture, but I’m pretty sure there’s bacon in that bag.

He sets out styrofoam containers of fried hash browns, bacon, eggs, sausage, and jelly-filled donuts. My mouth starts watering at the sight of the smorgasbord. It’s the perfect hangover meal for me.

“Dig in,” he says, handing me a fork.

I grab the container of scrambled eggs and start shoveling them into my mouth.

“So,” Jensen begins in a curious tone. “Want to tell me what exactly happened last night?”

I’m not touching that question with a ten-foot pole. Jensen is in Papa mode - when he steps in and tries to give me advice or set me straight because he’s a year older and wiser than me. He does know me better than anyone else on our team because we’ve been friends since college.

I shrug and say, “Just went too hard. It happens.”

“Uh huh,” Jensen says, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t suppose your head-first dive into a tequila bottle had something to do with Skyler, did it?”

“What?” I snap, my whole body tensing in an instant. “The fuck you talking about man?”

Too late, I realize that my response was way too defensive.

Jensen gazes at me with a skeptical look, his mouth pressed together in a thin line. He clearly doesn’t believe me.

“You’ve been acting strange ever since she got here,” he says, all but ignoring my outburst. “You’re moodier, more agitated, and you're not as focused during practice when she’s watching.”

I shrug and try to maintain a calm and even tone when I reply, “I act differently around her because she’s like a little sister to me. She’s not a conquest.”

Yet, even as I say the words out loud, they feel…wrong. Like a lie. That’s ridiculous, though, because I don’t view Skyler as more than a sister.

So…why did I kiss her last night? And why does the memory of her body pressed tight to mine have my dick twitching to life despite how shitty I feel?

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