Page 8 of My Virgin Puck

“So if you’re not fucking her…” Jacob slides up beside me. His shaggy brown hair is untidy and disgusting. “Then who are you fucking?”

A pull in my gut tells me to leave. Leave now. Forget putting socks on. Forget shoes.

Just fucking go.

It’s the same feeling I get whenever sex is mentioned in the locker room. It’s the same feeling I get whenever I used to go out with the guys, and they’d set me up with a girl. It’s the same feeling I get when I see Madi, and those gorgeous deep brown eyes of hers.

I’m a nervous fucking wreck whenever it comes to sex.

“I’m not fucking anyone,” I mumble, throwing my bag over my shoulder.

I go to push forward towards the exit, but Jacob jumps in front of me, his eyes wide. His palm is pressed against my chest, holding me firm as Jamie stumbles over. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear they were twins. Terrible twins, at that.

“What do you mean by that?” Jamie says, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yeah,” Jacob adds. “Like, you’re not fucking anyone right now… Or… Or…”

Jacob’s brow creases but his expression is different. He’s not tormenting or teasing me this time. His mind is ticking over and with every passing second that he’s holding me to the spot, he’s inching closer and closer to the truth.

Shit. Shit. No. They can’t know. They can’t know!!!

“Listen, I’ve got to-”

Jacob’s palm grips my shirt and forces me to remain on the spot. Jamie circles in closer, and we’re huddled in a tight circle. I reach down for my bag, trying to escape but it’s no use. Jacob’s fist restricts me and pulls me back so he’s searching my mind with his intensity. It’s not aggressive or intense – it’s curious and revealing.

“Mason, are you a virgin?”

****

“Here, Big Boy…” Jamie shoves a Viking horn filled with beer into my chest. “Drink this. It’s called liquid courage for a reason. Bottom’s up.”

Jamie smashes his horn into mine, so to speak, and downs his beer to a wild cheer from the enthusiastic Viking’s fans surrounding us at the bar. With a swipe of his mouth, he eyeballs me and gestures down at my flask that remains untouched.

“Your turn,” he says.

“I don’t think so, mate,” I grunt.

The Bloody Viking is just as busy as I remember it. There’s a reason I stopped coming here. The sticky floors. The stale smell. Not to mention the over-the-top fans who feel as if it’s their right to hassle and nag you for autographs all night.

And I’m certainly not about to scull a beer from one of these stupidly shaped horns.

So when Noah yanks me by the shoulder and guides me to the back VIP area, I finally take a sip of my beer and position myself in a chair beside the eight ball table where a few of the rookies are playing.

“Not that bad, is it?” Noah says, leaning across so I can hear him over the blaring jukebox.

I raise my brows, “If you say so.” Noah chuckles and shakes his head. “Where’s your girlfriend, anyway?”

Noah sips his beer, which, lucky for him, is in a normal glass. From the corner of my eye, I see four or five of the guys who were at the bar stumble in, headed by Jamie and Jacob who’s cheeks already looked flushed.

“She’s in New York. Flat out with work still,” Noah reveals, holding his glass up to the boys. “She’ll be here over the weekend, though. Hates missing the games now, and she certainly doesn’t want to miss out of Rival’s Week.”

Rival’s Week is the biggest week in the NHL. We’re due to play back-to-back games against Toronto and I can’t wait to kick their asses again this season. Coach Best hasn’t shut up about it. That’s why he’s been so fucking wound up this week.

“Fuck yeah, man,” I say. “Pretty cool your girl likes hockey, eh?”

Noah grins at me and smiles a timid smile. “Yeah. Don’t worry man, you’ll find a girl. Don’t let those guys put any pressure on you.” Noah gestures to Jacob and Jamie who have taken over the eight-ball table. “Sex isn’t everything.”

“Oh really?” I pin Noah with raised brows.

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