Page 5 of Grudge Puck
At the top of my feed, posted seconds ago, I saw a status from an old classmate I once knew.
Holy shit,I thought with a smirk.Camille Kennedy, Little Miss Perfect, lives in New York City. And she opened a bakery? A vegan bakery? What the hell? That's so random.
“Hey!” I piped up, grabbing the room's attention. “Anyone up for some sight-seeing in Brooklyn?”
But the stares I got back told me all I needed to know. Athletes are creatures of habit and these guys wanted to go back to the hotel for their precious post-practice nap.
“C'mon guys. I just want one person to come with me. Don't be so lame.”
“You want to sight-seewhat, exactly?” Iggy Morrow asked skeptically.
I pointed at my cell phone screen. “This broad I knew in high school. Apparently she opened a vegan bakery in Fort Greene. I wanna pay her a visit.”
A wave of amused laughter began to ripple throughout the room.
I peeked up and narrowed my eyes at the boys. “What? Why are you guys laughing?”
Hunter patted me on the back. “Was this the one that got away, Beau? Is this why you're so fucked up in the head? A girl broke your heart in high school and you never got over it?”
“Ugh.” Repulsed, I stuck out my tongue. “Are you kidding me? You don't get it. We weremortalenemies. I can't stand this chick.”
“So …” Leif, our Russian goalie, was struggling to follow the logic, and his face was pinched with confusion. “Sowhywould you ever want to go visit her, then? That doesn't make sense.”
I shrugged. “Isn't it obvious? I want to gloat about how amazing my life is now, and here she is, slinging cupcakes. Lotta good being so much smarter than me did her, eh boys?”
Leif slapped his forehead. “I take it back. Knowing you, that makes perfect sense.”
“So?” I asked. “C'mon, somebody come with me.”
“I'll go with you,” Hunter said as he rose to his feet. “But not because I approve; only because I want to make sure you stay out of trouble.”
I clapped Hunter on the back. “My man!”
And then I lowered my gaze to my cell phone.
Honestly, I couldn't believe I was even friends with Camille Kennedy on Facebook. God knows when that happened—we've hated each other since middle school. But I hardly ever use Facebook, so maybe I just never noticed.
I clicked her profile and flipped through some of her recent pics anyway. With each picture, my heart sank just a bit more.
Well, I hate to admit it, but she still looks good, god damn it.
It'd make this trip out to her bakery that much sweeter if she didn't.
But no.
She still had a deceptively cute face. Sure, she might look like an angel with that golden complexion. But really, that was just nature's way of giving her an ability to draw in poor and unsuspecting victims.
And, oh that smile. That smile was just perfect—tooperfect. Artificiallyperfect. She could trick probably anyone else with that smile, but not me.Iknew Camille Kennedy well enough to look beyond that smile and peer deep into her emerald eyes instead. That's where I could see it, the bare truth, plain as day: for whatever reason, deep down, she wasn't happy.
She'd probablyneverbe happy, because that's just who she was.
And who could forget those plump pink lips? What a shame that full set of DSLs ended up on her. If they were on any other girl? I'ddiefor just one chance to watch those glossy lips sliding up and down my throbbing cock.
I flipped through more and more pics.
Seeing her face again made my heart race—not in a good way. It was the same feeling I got whenever we were at each other's throats back in the day. Blood and adrenaline pumped through my veins as I prepared for battle.
Funny, isn't it, how I can stare down the best players and toughest fighters in the NHL without batting an eyelid. But a girl from high school could get me all antsy and bothered. I loved this feeling, though. At the end of the day, it was exactly what I lived for.
