Page 3 of The Stud

Then again, I’m not sure that I don’t.

At this point in my unwanted – although not necessarilyunwarranted– barn burner against the most incredible woman to ever exist, it’s hard to say until we’re actually on the verbal ice going skate to skate.

“Our biggest sponsorand foundation donor, Loca Mocha Casabloca, has agreed to partner with us to provide the fans with a morein-depthlook into the life of their favorite player.”

“What’s that got to do with Snowman?” Hoss swiftly snips, prompting me to shoot her a narrowed stare.

Hot Rocket noticeably fights the urge to grin as she replies, “He received the most votes.”

“Can I request a recount?” asks our social media expert.

“His postgame interviews are always the most watched.”

“That could easily be an algorithm issue.”

“And his autographed, specialty jerseys always rack in the highest bids.”

“People are probably just pressing the wrong button.”

“Why is it so difficult for you to believe people like me?”

“Because I’ve met you.”

“You adore me.”

“You meanannoy,” she swiftly snips, on a sardonic cock of the head. “An easy American toDoctor Whomiscommunication.”

“Doctenn.” I shake my head in minor amusement. “I am fromDoctenn.”

“Youwishyou were a ten,” Hoss spitefully sneers.

“According to our fans, heis,” Hennington announces, recollecting our attention. “His autographed stills go forthree timesmore than theleagueaverage.”

I knew I was a fucking beauty, but I didn’t realize I was afucking beauty.

I mean, yes, I obviously do fairly well with the broadskies – blond hair, blue eyes, tattoos, and one of the sickest shots in sweaters makes that shit easy – but I had no fucking clue fans liked methatmuch.

Especially not with some of the shit I’ve read through my spy account regarding my performance on the ice as much as off.

And for the scoresheet?

Yes.

Mostof us across the league fucking have a dummy account.

We wanna know shit.

But we can’topenlyknow shit.

So, we figure out how to learn that shit on the QT.

Like Ridley from Boston having to be moved to IR last season over a Donny involving his brother, his nutritionist, and a baking pan to the face.

Truthfully, I’ve never dropped the gloves over a female.

Not sure I ever would.

Or will.

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