Page 43 of Snap Shot

“Thethreeother bedrooms are currently storing construction materials, or else I'd let you have one of those.And I'll have you know; the cleaners changed the sheets this morning.”

“You're a pain in my ass.” She finally gives in with a grumble, grabbing her briefcase and swaying aimlessly until I show her to the master suite. Indi steps through and turns to close it, a hateful fire in her eyes. “Goodnight.”

I shoot her my best smile. “Night.”

As soon as the door shuts, frustration has my hands running through the thick strands of my hair, tugging and mussing it up.Fuck. I'm going feral with the thought of her lying in my bed, wearing my name, my number twelve on her tight curved body.Mine. All mine. It's a fucking wet dream come true. My heart thuds in its bony cage, sending its heated contents straight to my dick. I need to lie down before I pass out or go into cardiac arrest. Or both.

One couch pillow supports my head as another hides my other head. I lift one corner to peek beneath it. “Go away,” I whisper to my dick. “Why are you like this?”

I've reverted to my twelve-year-old self, sporting relentless boners for Indi. Memories of that year return in waves as I suppress all those dirty thoughts about my lawyer and overnight guest.

Most of the guys were horrible to her. Graham, Yally, Newt, and especially that little twerp Bennett.

One practice Bryce picked on her the whole time. He tripped her as she skated onto the ice at warm-ups and shoved her into the T-bar when she blocked his goal during scrimmage.

“Knock it off, Bennett!” Coach yelled.

“It was an accident! My skate slipped.”

He always pulled shit like that to get out of trouble. Everyone knows you don't mess with the tendy and definitely not your own. We're supposed to be a team, but for some reason, Bennett was determined to make her miserable.

When he grabbed her paddle and slid it to the other end of the rink, she lost it. Indi skated up from behind as she tossed aside her gloves, then grabbed him by the collar. With an echoing roar, she knocked him onto the ice and pummeled fist after fist into his face. The rest of us watched on, stupefied at the unexpected anger from our otherwise silent teammate. Coach Alexei had to pry her away. Bryce Bennett sniveled like a baby.

After practice ended, I doodled on the back of a flyer while waiting for Delaney to pick me up.

Indi sat on the empty bench space next to me and raised her chin over my shoulder. “What's that?”

“Nothing really. You kicking Bryce's ass.” I smoothed out the yellow sheet. It was a quick sketch. Not my best work.

She smiled, then winced, her tongue skimming over the split in her bottom lip from when Bennett got a jab in. “It's pretty good.”

“You like it, eh? It's yours.” Pride surged through my chest at making her smile. I lived for that smile.

“No way! You drew it, you keep it.” She wiped her nose with the back of her sleeve. “Frame it for when you're a famous artist.”

“I'll be too busy playing puck for Toronto.” That would make her smile for sure.

She lifted one shoulder with a roll of her eyes. “I don't know if you have what it takes to make it to the Show.”

I nudged her elbow with mine. “Liar.”

Indi elbowed me back with a soft giggle before a blue Honda Civic pulled up outside. She went wide-eyed, then heaved her gear onto a shoulder and shuffled to the door.

“See ya later, Indi!”

“Bye, Landon.”

All of those post-practice conversations we shared while waiting for our too-busy parents on the bench. Wewerefriends. There's no doubt. Then why is she acting like I'm the shit on her sneaker?

The A.C. whirs on, vent blowing frigid air onto my bare arms. I shiver and eye my bedroom door, wondering if I should go in there and grab a blanket. The clock on the wall beeps every hour.

At 4 a.m., I can't stop thinking about Indi and how she could be thinking about me, too, sliding her fingers between her legs and touching herself. In my bed.Fuck. This is a nightmare.

I get to my feet and advance into the pantry, grabbing the first bottle of alcohol I can find and taking an unglamorous swig. Whiskey burns the whole way down. I don't stop until the bottle's contents halve and my mind clouds over, erasing every last thought of her.

Sleep ends too soon with the sound of Indi's feet faintly thrumming across the floor. I suck air in through my mouth, dry and rough like sandpaper. A bubble rises from my gut, weak whiskey coating my throat.

The drunk stupor doesn’t dissolve when I trace Indi's steps into the kitchen. She’s more glorious in the morning light. The flawless curve of her ass peeks out from under my jersey as she reaches the tips of her toes and opens a cupboard. She can stay here forever if she's gonna look like that.

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