Page 29 of Good Pucking Luck

Me: People will see.

Rylan: Are you embarrassed of me?

I roll my eyes because he really can’t be this clueless.

Me: No. I’m a Jilted Ex, and I was humiliated at one of your hockey games. All we need is someone to see us together and know we’re…you know.

A vision of a laughing Rylan pops into my head, and I do my best to shoot that shit down immediately.

Rylan: Boning?

Jesus Christ. Could he sound more like a frat boy?

Me: Are you sure you’re twenty-six?

Rylan: I never told you my age… Did you google me?

Shit. Goddamn it, motherfucker.

Me: Of course, but only when I found out you might be a hockey player.

Rylan: Aww…I think you’re obsessed with me…but don’t feel bad. I’m a little obsessed with you too. You should search highlights from my game tonight.

I’m absolutelynotlooking up this game. I don’t want to see any highlights because I don’t care about hockey.

Me: No.

Take that!

Rylan: Please.

Me: I’m ignoring you now.

What is it with this guy? He’s…well, no idea. I can’t quite get a handle on him or why I keep talking to him other than the sex.

Oh God. The sex. The sex that he thinks makes him even better at hockey…the sex I wouldn’t be having if it wasn’t for him. Sex that makes me feel good in this intense way I’ve never felt before. I don’t like that truth, but it’s a truth all the same.

Rylan: Can we talk tomorrow?

Say no, say no, say no.

Me: Yes.

Rylan: I thought you were ignoring me?

Fuck my life.

I set my phone on the passenger seat and drive away. Somehow, I don’t overthink the Jilted Exes’ Club meeting or Malcolm the rest of the night.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Rylan

How does oneproposition a guy for consistent good-luck sex for the rest of the hockey season? It’s all I’ve been thinking about since last night. It’s January, and the regular season goes until April. Then the playoffs. We’ll win the cup at the end of June, so six months of his life for really great sex isn’t too much to ask for, is it? Especially when I know he enjoys it so much. I wouldn’t consider it if I didn’t think Hayes got something out of it—even more than just an amazing orgasm. After what went down with The Prick—my new name for his ex—I think he has something to prove, maybe even just to himself, and something about what we’re doing helps with that. Hayes has basically said so himself.

I texted him this morning, and he’s going to come over this evening when he gets off work. We leave tomorrow for a few away games, so the timing is perfect if this is something he’s interested in.

Hayes…intrigues me. He caught my attention the first night we met, but my fascination with him has only grown. Every time I think about what he went through, my whole body burns with anger. I made the mistake of googling the Jilted Exes’ Club this morning, and…why do people enjoy so much making others suffer? Why do they spend their days speculating about other people’s pain? Why is it so easy to jump on a bandwagon without giving any consideration for the people on the other end of it? And don’t get me started on the number of people who blamed Hayes and the others, who said they must be dumb or didn’t want to see the truth, even accusing them of setting this wholething up as some ploy to go internet famous. I just can’t wrap my head around it.

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