Page 23 of The Puck Secret

My phone vibrates and any turmoil I was feeling about last night instantly disappears, as a message from my charmer rolls in. He is the only one who ever messages me this early. It’s Sunday, but that never stops him. I reach out and snatch my phone off the nightstand, ready to leer at my daily shirtless picture, and am only mildly disappointed when I see it’s just a message, no picture.

The Lonely Charm: You awake yet Grim?

Maddie: Awake and having a heart attack. Did you finally suffocate under that giant ego?

The Lonely Charm: Never! Why do you ask?

Maddie: No abs, just words…

It feels nice to mess with him and go into our daily routine of talking and flirting with one another. I see the bubbles appear and disappear a few times, and I know he must be trying to work out what I mean, and I can’t help the grin that spreads across my face at the next message.

The Lonely Charm: I knew you had a crush on me, Grim!

Maddie: You wish ?? you’re the one stalking me remember?

The Lonely Charm: Until the end of the earth if I have to…

Those words flow through me like a promise and I find myself blushing as I read them over and over. He does this everyday, pushes at my limits and I let it happen, enjoying the empty oaths he leaves in my inbox. I shouldn’t rely on them so much to make my day. I shouldn't spur him on when I know I am already promised to another, but I can’t resist the simple push and pull between us. Is it possible to have feelings for someone you have never met?

Pushing that thought aside, one because it’s crazy, and two because it’s not something I can ever fully explore, I roll onto my stomach and lean up to write another message.

Maddie: Am I seeing the damn abs or not?

The Lonely Charm: Damn someone is grouchy this morning, is Harold not doing his job?

I almost scoff at his message, and obsession with my damn sex toy, and I would if it didn’t delight me, but thoughts of Harold just conjure up forbidden images of last night. I physically shake my head to try and chase them away as I angrily tap out another text.

Maddie: Harold is not the man bothering me today

The Lonely Charmer: So there is a man, good to know

Shit, I probably shouldn’t have said that, he is going to think I am taken, which in hindsight I am. I doubt my father or my future fiancé would approve of our little texting situationship. At that thought, another image of last night flows through me, and I feel satisfaction at fucking over my intended.

Maddie: It’s not like that trust me

The Lonely Charm: What’s it like?

Maddie: Hate filled with a thousand hell-fires!!!

The Lonely Charm: Sounds kinky

Maddie: No, there is nothing kinky about it! Just hate! HATE HATE HATE!!!!

The Lonely Charm: Damn do I need to find this dude and save him from your wrath?

Maddie: You would probably get along with him, his ego rivals yours!

I smile as I compare them because I am right, and I swear a requirement of being that hot means you have to also be a cocky asshole. Something they both have in common. I don’t know how the hockey team makes it through the day, the coach must go insane dealing with them all together. I wonder if my Charmer plays any sports? We made a deal during the first week after we found out we both go to FU, that until we are ready we won’t talk about what classes we take or anything like that. Little does he know I will never be ready to reveal who I am, all it will do is ruin everything.

With that thought in my mind, I can no longer sit still and sulk. I toss the covers aside, grab my robe, and head downstairs to make a coffee. It’s barely 7am, so the sun isn’t even fully up yet, which means when I am ready, I will still be able to watch the sunrise on the back deck. I make myself a quick cup, and then another and put it into a disposable cup and head out front.

Hector is in his car, eyes sharp, meaning he spots me instantly, rolling down the window with a smile as I bring him his usual cup of morning coffee.

“You’re too good to me, Maddie, my wife is gonna start getting jealous,” he jokes, as he takes the coffee from my hand.

I roll my eyes. “Please, Hector, if your wife brings me those meatballs again, I’m gonna steal her right out from under you.” Hector’s wife, Neeve, is an angel sent from the gods. Hector brings me home-cooked meals made by her at least three times a week, and I swear it’s the only decent food I enjoy these days.

“I’ll fight you for her,” he quips at my back, as I retreat into the house, and I hear his laugh when I shrug as if to say bring it.

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