Page 54 of Anatomy of a Player

Okay, that’s enough thinking about pushing buttons… Try to think rationally.I was on a sex sabbatical for a reason. I made bad choices when it came to picking guys.

But that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the night’s spell/ball for a little while longer, even if I decided to stick to my no sex decree. “I think I’m ready for the rest of the movie.”

While he didn’t limp much on the way back to the couch, it was there. I told him not to move while I retrieved an ice pack from the freezer. I thought I’d have to make do with frozen veggies, but apparently hockey players stocked up on ice packs, because there were a few next to what had to be a years’ worth of frozen burritos and Eggo Waffles.

When I closed the freezer, I noticed the note held up with magnets.

McCaffrey said he knows you have a test coming up and insisted I give you this. The email address on top is for the tutor, but he says it’s probably too late for this test, so you should also email the other address, just this once. All you have to do is send the class info and you’ll get an email back for how much it’ll cost. McCaffrey said he’ll spot you the money if you need it.

-D

Two email addresses were scrawled across the bottom, along with one sentence:Remember, the whole team’s relying on you. I stood there, unsure what to do. Here was proof of cheating.Come on, Hudson. Don’t tell me you’d do this.

After a couple seconds of going back and forth, I took out my phone and snapped a picture. That way I could delay my crisis of conscience versus truth and fairness for later.

The smile Hudson flashed me when I placed the pack over his ankle filled my gut with guilt. He wrapped his arm around me and I tried to push everything away and just focus on how nice it was to be cuddled up next to him.

Using my fingertips, I memorized his hand, every long finger and the web work of veins across the back, then moved on to his forearm, running my fingers over the ink and coarse hair. When I got to the puckered scar on the underside, I asked, “What happened here?”

He glanced down. “Just boys being boys.”

I wanted to press more, but then he tightened the arm he had around me and kissed my cheek, a quick brush of scruff and soft lips. I got lost in the rhythm of his breaths, the pulse beating at the base of his neck, and the way the lights of the television lit up his features at intervals.

There were moments we ignored the movie and simply studied each other, exchanging smiles and kisses. I thought about taking off my wig a couple of times, since it was getting itchy, but I was sure my hair was a tangled mess underneath, and it seemed like it had made the spell hanging over us possible.

Hudson’s phone chirped as the movie credits began rolling up the screen. He lifted it and sighed. “The guys just landed. They’ll be home soon.”

Just like that, the spell broke.

If I ran, Hudson’s ankle might prevent him from catching me, but since there wasn’t a pumpkin-turned-coach waiting for me, I didn’t have a ride. “Are you sure you can drive?”

“I’m sure.” Hudson put his hand on my back and led me out the door.

Neither of us said much on the way home, the low murmur of the radio filling the silence. I wondered if he felt the magic of the night unraveling, too, or if he was just tired and I was delusional for thinking this night had meant as much to him as it did to me.

When he pulled up to my apartment complex, he wrapped his hand around my thigh. I wanted to tell him I’d had an amazing time, but then I didn’t want to sound needy or clingy, even though I felt a lot of need right now, and the desire to cling onto him was definitely there, too.

“You know, I knew from the beginning that there was something you were holding back.” His eyes locked onto mine. “Things that didn’t quite add up.”

My blood pressure spiked and all the air whooshed out of my lungs.

“Time to come clean, Reporter Girl.”

I tried to keep the panic off my face.Oh, holy crap. How much does he know? How long has he known?

I contemplated spouting facts and figures in hopes he’d understand why I’d started the exposé—at least a little. But then I realized maybe he just meant the survey. Or the note.

My journalist side kicked in, telling me to cling to my cover at all costs.Deny. No, turn it on him. Or make a joke. Do…something.

“You want to come clean about something? Ooh, I can’t wait to break the scoop.” I patted my skirt even though there were no pockets, acting like I was searching for my notebook. “Let me guess, you’ve been using steroids. First Lance, now you.” I shook my head, rather proud that I’d remembered an athlete’s name.

Hudson’s mouth dropped open and he threw a hand to his chest. “This body is carved from hard work, baby. Don’t act like you weren’t enjoying it earlier.” His hand drifted up my thigh a few more inches and the temperature in the cab shot up about a billion degrees. “I mean it’s time foryouto come clean.”

My palms grew damp and I fought the urge to wipe them on my skirt. I licked my lips and tried to think past his callused fingertips and my short-circuiting emotions. I seriously considered jumping out of the truck and making a run for it. Of course, the one time I needed to sprint I had on my giant heels.

“You don’t know a damn thing about hockey, do you?” He squeezed my thigh, and I sat frozen as my brain worked out what he’d said versus what I’d thought he was going to say.

Hockey? He was asking about my hockey knowledge? That was…not as bad as the exposé. Probably still not great, though. “I…I know some.”

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