Page 32 of The Puck Player

“Yep, just here to talk to your teammate,” I snap, and I see Alexander frown, slowing his pace, as a smirk spreads across Archer’s mouth.

“Uh oh, someone’s in trouble,” he sings, coming to a stop in front of me, as Jake looks between Alexander and I, but I push past them both and stalk towards their goalie, slapping him hard across the face. “Oh shit,” Archer adds, now only sensing this is not a joking matter.

When Alexander meets my stare, he searches it, before looking to his teammates. “Fuck off,” he demands, somehow sensing we need privacy, and the two of them promptly disappear, but my rage is still alive and present.

“How dare you!” I yell in his face. “How fucking dare you! I told you those things in confidence because I thought you were my friend, not so you could use them as some baseless joke to try and get in my pants,” I scoff, still so fucking angry that he would do something like this.

“What? No. Aubree, I am your friend,” he starts, but I cut him off.

“Please, you don’t want to be my friend, you want to fuck me and add me to the no doubt endless fucking notches on your bedpost. Why else would you send me all that fucking shit?” I’m not sure I have ever used so many curse words all at once, but I feel the situation calls for it.

“No, Aubree, it wasn’t like that I swear, I just thought...”

I cut him off again. “I know what you thought, it’s exactly what you’ve thought since the night we met. What? You thought you could break me down and I’d fall at your feet like the rest of them.”

“No, of course not,” he tries again, but I’m still not done.

“Save your breath, I was right about you all along, you’re nothing but a playboy, and whatever friendship I thought we had is over, so fuck you.”

I don’t wait for a response, turning to leave, ignoring his pleas and his apologies, as I get back in my car and drive away, leaving him staring after me at the side of the road.

The anger stays with me the entire day, throughout all my morning classes, the lunch that I avoid going to the cafeteria for, and my afternoon classes too. I spy Archer and Daemon heading toward the art building after my last class, and from the look in both their eyes, I know they know. I saw how close Alexander iswith his housemates, which I guess by proxy includes Daemon too, and I feel even more stupid than I did this morning. Ignoring their attempts at getting my attention, I storm back to my car and drive straight home. If Alexander thinks I will be going to his house for our tutoring session then he is fucking crazy. I want nothing to do with him after this.

A thought I hope he has caught onto, after he started to blow up my phone with apologies after I left, before I promptly blocked his number. I didn’t read any of his messages, nor do I care if he sent any more after I blocked him. As far as I am concerned, Alexander can take back his box of sex toys and use them to go fuck himself!

When I get back to the apartment there is another box waiting outside my door, and I grind my teeth so hard that I’m surprised they don’t crack. Stomping toward the door, I glare at the box in a mixture of disgust and annoyance, that fury from earlier once again burning red hot. This box is a lot bigger than this morning, and it’s heavy as I snatch it up. Unlocking my door, I storm inside. Does that arrogant playboy really think he can just buy my forgiveness after what he did?

I knew his type, I called it the moment I laid eyes on him, but when he started to show me something different I believed it. I let what I thought I knew be overtaken by what he was showing me, and I guess that’s my own fault. I should have known confiding in him was a mistake and well, lesson officially learned. I won’t make the same mistake twice.

Heading straight to my room for privacy, I’m not taking any chances after the first one, I shut the door behind me and sit down on my bed. This box looks just as fancy as the one this morning, except a lot more personal. There is no design or logo, or any identifying markers as to what it could be, just a bright white box with a large black satin bow. There is no stamp on it so I can only presume a courier dropped it off instead, and I stareat it in wonder, trying to decide what offensive thing could be housed inside.

Deciding there is no point delaying the inevitable, I pull off the bow and break open the box, scoffing when I spy another envelope. Like the box, it’s a lot more elegant than the one this morning, again as if more thought was put into it, and I frown in confusion when I spy two fancy letter S’s on the back, engraved into a gold-melted seal. I carefully peel it open, pulling out a fancy cream piece of card with gold foiling around the edges, with a handwritten note taking up the rest of the space.

Aubree,

Apologies for the delay in getting this to you.

My son was adamant after we spoke on the phone last week that I was to send this ASAP.

He isn’t used to not getting his own way, as I’m sure you know by now.

Anyway, I hope you love what he picked out for you, it will be an honor to see you in my clothes.

Let me know if you need anything else.

All my love, Sinclair.

PS: Thank you for giving him your friendship, I really do hope to meet you soon.

I read the note once, twice, three times, and still the words don’t change. It’s from Alexander’s mother, as in Sinclair Striker, as in my favorite model and designer, as in my fucking idol. My heart begins to slam against my ribcage, my handsshaking, as I place the note aside and gently dig into the tissue paper.

The box is literally huge, and when I start to look in it I realize why it was so heavy. Piles of clothes rest inside, varying in pastel colors, and it takes me several moments of hyperventilating to look through all of them and realize she has sent me her entire unreleased spring collection. Tops, skirts, pants, dresses, all of it resting beautifully inside the box, and all of it in my size. My hands continue to shake as I inspect each piece in utter and total awe and confusion, because what the fuck?

How did she know my size?

How did she know my address?

The questions are pointless because I know how, it was him. Alexander did this, and it’s only then I recall the note. Reaching for it again to reread it, I notice where she says he arranged this after we spoke on the phone. That was on Thursday, before I told him I was a virgin, or even joked about hearing Evie and Jake through the wall. So does that mean he arranged this gift before the other one?

---