Page 13 of One Night Only
Me: Sorry. That was sent in error.
“That’s even worse!” She’s going to think I meant to send it to someone else. “You idiot,” I yell at my screen as if I’m not the one in total control of my phone. Then, when I realize I’m sitting here, yelling at a goddamn phone, I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the moment I so clearly need.
Me: Sorry. I lied. That wasn’t sent in error. You were the intended recipient.
Great. Now I sound like a fucking bot. Get your shit together, man. You’re Dallas Shaw, for fuck’s sake.
Rolling my eyes, my hands are actually trembling as I tap out yet another message.
Me: I hope you’re proud of the fact that you’ve rendered me incapable of stringing together a sentence. I promise I’m not normally a giant, bumbling fool.
I sit there for a long while, staring at the message thread. For all I know, she’s blocked me. But I’m nothing if not a persistent asshole.
Me: What’s your favorite food? I’m a Texas boy, so of course I’m gonna say you can’t go wrong with some good ol’ fashion barbeque. But I also like Italian.
Me: If you like Italian, we could go to Cucina Vappiano. It’s this cute little mom and pop joint in Bay Ridge. I think the lady who owns it has a crush on me. She’s always putting extra cannoli in my order.
Reading over what I’ve sent her, I close my eyes on a groan. For the record, I have no idea what I’m fucking doing. In my defense, I’ve never had to actually try and impress a woman before; they’ve always just thrown themselves at me. But this is different. Emily is different. I’ve never wanted more the way I want more with her. This is harder than I thought it would be.
I pinch my bottom lip between my thumb and forefinger, looking out at the view of the New York City skyline across the river, lights twinkling against the night sky. And that’s when it hits me. Another one of those feelings I’ve never felt before. One that makes me do something I’ll probably live to regret.
Me: I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since that night. Your smile and the dimple in the apple of your cheek when you laugh. The way you treated me like I was an actual person and not just some piece of ass. You’re the first woman I’ve ever held as I’ve drifted off to sleep. And I really want to hold you again.
As I stare at that last message, I can’t help but wonder who the fuck I even am right now. If she hasn’t already blocked me, she sure as shit will now. Hell, there’s probably a cease and desist being drafted in some lawyer’s office right at this very moment.
I drag a hand over my face.Chrissake, Shaw.
Suddenly, my phone shudders, and I almost throw the thingin the air. Fumbling the device, I somehow manage to collect what little cool I have left, unlocking it. But when I see what’s on the screen, disappointment floods through me.
Happy: Yo, Tex! My dick ain’t gonna suck itself.
Logan: He’s probably in the middle of one of his pre-road trip bangs.
Irritation rolls through me, and I don’t know why. I am so not an angry guy.
Maybe it’s the fact that I’m not currently in bed with a woman the night before a road trip like I normally would be. Hell, the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind until now.
Maybe it’s the fact that I know deep down, the guys know me too well, and they’re right; I’m the NHL’s loveable playboy, a crown I’ve worn proudly for the last two years.
Maybe it’s the fact that I just showed a piece of my heart to Emily via text and she’s blatantly ignored me.
I don’t know, but whatever it is, it gets the better of me and I scroll to my Puck Bunny contact list, select export, and share it in the chat.
Me: Have at it, fellas. I’m sitting this one out.
Logan: What do you mean you’re sitting this one out?
Happy: Holy shit, is this your road trip roster??
Logan: Tex, are you dying?
I ignore the messages and mute the chat, heaving a sigh as I stare back out at the view of the city, trying not to think about Emily’s silence. I kind of hope she has blocked me. Not seeing my messages has got to be better than flat-out ignoring them.
When my phone vibrates next to me, I glance cautiously at it,not wanting to get my hopes up. When I see Robbie’s name on the screen, I breathe a sigh of relief; sure it’s not Emily, but I’m also not completely pissed.
Picking up the device, I open his text message.
Mason: You good, man?
