Page 22 of Puck Prince

“Why does it matter? What’s your aversion to Owen Sharpe?” She snorts. “I didn’t even know there was such a thing.”

“That’s the problem. I haven’t exactly… averted him.”

I can hear the treadmill slow as Kennedy tries to process the vague bits of information I am offering. I don’t want to say it, but she’s gonna make me. With stakes this high, I can hardly blame her.

“We sort of… ran into each other the last time I was staying at your apartment,” I admit, leaning against the stall. The cold tile feels good on my back.

“And by ‘ran into,’ you mean…?”

“His genitals ran into mine. I slept with him.” I squeeze my eyes shut in shame. But Kennedy shrieks.

“Hell yeah! God, I knew your trusty wand of bliss couldn’t do the job forever. But Owen fucking Sharpe? Damn, girl. You really are a little skanky under all that business attire. Tell me everything!”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be a prude! It’s Owen Sharpe. He rakes his opponents across the ice by day and women across the sheets by night. He must’ve been a good lay.”

“He was fine. Acceptable. It was…” I groan. “Fine, he was incredible.”

I know Kennedy well enough to pull the phone from my ear right before she lets out a shrill squeal. “How did it happen?!”

“Well, you bailed on me for another terrible date, and I was on the couch with Ophelia and Jason Momoa.”

“Sounds about right.”

“I was drowning my sorrows with a little cab sauv.”

“Also tracks.”

“And I hear this banging on the wall. The man is yelling at me for being…too loud.”

Callie giggles devilishly. “Dirty girl. Go on!”

“So I go to close the balcony door, but Delilah is on the balcony. And in the midst of trying to catch her, I may or may not have locked myself out there.”

“I keep a key taped to the top of the tunnel.”

“I know that now!” She just chuckles, and I go on. “Owen comes out. We argue. He’s kind of a dick, you know?”

“Oh, I know!” she laughs. “It’s half the appeal. Bad boys do it for me. And for you, too, apparently.”

I ignore that. “So, there we are, fighting about him being cocky and me being half-naked…”

“You were half naked?” she interrupts. “I mean, I guess you would be if you were last seen on your Game of Thrones Pinterest board. But also, Owen knows about the spare key, as well. He saw me use it once when I came home sloshed after a bad date.”

“Something I also learned way too far after the fact to be helpful.” She can’t see it, but I am glaring into the phone. “I hunkered down, not wanting to admit I needed help,”

“A very Callie thing to do,” she sighs.

“And he comes back out and offers to help me onto his balcony so I can get back inside.”

“A very Owen thing to do.” She is enjoying this way too much.

“And then it starts to rain.”

“God, what must it be like to have the universe on your side like that? This was fate.”

“Eventually, I give in. He Thors me onto his balcony, and, well…” I trail off at the memory, but Kennedy picks up where I left off.

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