Page 26 of Daring the Hockey Player
She seems to have forgotten our little game of truth or dare, which is fine with me. "Do you want to text Charlotte?"
"She texted me in the bathroom. Told me she went home with some hottie at the bar. I reminded her to use protection."
"Come on," I say and help her gather her belongings. She holds the hideous Island Bruisers jersey in her hands along with her purse while I grab my jersey from the game that she abandoned on the table.
"I'll see you guys tomorrow at practice," I say and leave cash on the table to cover the drinks for myself and Amber. I double-check to make sure I have my phone and house keys before walking with her outside.
"How far is the subway?" Amber asks, shivering. She pulls the Island Bruisers jersey from her hands and slips it on to keep warm.
I grumble in the process. Really? Does she have to torment me by wearing that ugly thing again?
I don't have a coat with me, and if I did, I'd drape it over her shoulders. Usually, I grab a cab back to the apartment on game night.
"Where do you live?" I ask.
"I have an apartment near NYU."
I exhale a heavy breath. "Roommate?"
"No, I'm in a studio," she says. "Do you want to come over, see my place?"
"You'll come back to my place." I don't know how much alcohol it takes for her to get sick, but I also don't want to risk leaving her unattended. Someone should stay with her.
I keep an arm wrapped around her waist, helping steady her. "Okay," Amber says and cuddles against me as we walk across the street. There's a hotel and a row of cabs lined up, waiting for guests, which makes it easy to snag a ride and not have to wait to call a cab.
It isn't long before I'm walking Amber inside my apartment. It's a luxurious two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment. More than I need since I'm barely here with my rigorous hockey schedule.
The second bedroom is jammed with hockey gear, and while there's a mattress at the moment, it's leaning against the wall, unused. I don't have time or the energy tonight to clean the guest room and offer her the guest bed.
My bedroom is mostly decent, except the bed isn't made. She doesn't seem to notice or care. She plops down on the mattress and flings her shoes off. "Join me," she says, smiling with shut eyes as her head hits the pillow.
"Yeah, in a sec." I head into the bathroom to brush my teeth and change into something that could be construed as pajamas. I usually sleep naked, but that isn't an option with Amber staying under my roof.
I find a pair of boxers and a black T-shirt to wear to bed.
Amber grumbles as I step out of the bathroom, and she's removing the Island Bruisers jersey. "Too hot," she complains, tossing it at me.
"I'd be happy to burn it for you," I offer, catching the jersey in my hands.
She climbs under the covers. "You'd better not."
The girl has made herself at home in my bed, and I can't help but watch her from the bathroom doorframe. I don't have another bed that's set up to sleep on, and the sofa won't fit my long legs. I'll be cramped and uncomfortable.
I need a decent night's rest for practice tomorrow.
There's a chair in the corner of the room, and if I were a gentleman, I'd take the chair, fall asleep cramped, but deal with it during workouts in the morning to get myself in shape and fixed up.
I climb into bed beside Amber.
We're just friends.
Two friends can share a bed. Nothing has to happen between us.
She's out cold, and I reach for my phone, plug it in, and set my alarm. She doesn't budge an inch, and I shuffle back on the bed, stretch out, and tug the covers over myself.
As long as she remains on her side of the bed, everything will be fine.
My alarm jars me awake, and I feel Amber stiffen as she hears it too. Her arm is wrapped around my waist, her body nestled up against my back.
