Page 72 of Wrong Pucking Player

Mikayka’s Heartbreaker King.

He’s in the middle of the dance floor, all 6’5” of him, and with the booming music, dimly lit lights, and the mere atmosphere around us, he looks like a burning flame that can warm up the coldest hearts.

Or warm up a certain pussy that’s probably quivering for his presence.

By the time I look back at Mikayla, she’s off that barstool and heading to the man in question.

Guess I’ve done my bestie duty.

I’m happy for her, already knowing there’s no way we’re going home together. That makes me realize I may not have enough to get a taxi home, but the bar isn’t too far from my place.

An hour’s walk at night? I can run, but in stiletto heels? Stupid way of breaking your ankle, getting kidnapped, and being raped… yeah. Might as well run barefoot.

If I hadn’t changed bags, I would have had my pouch of emergency cash I always carry with me. I’d been so distracted by Armani that I left it on the kitchen island.

Damn. I really didn’t think this through.

With a sigh, I down the last two shots, knowing Mikayla isn’t coming back to finish them, before I pull out my phone.

“How many shots do you think it’ll take me to get wasted?”

I grin at the text bubble before I decide to add another sentence.

“Cause I’ve had six and can hopefully walk home.”

Pressing send, I close the app with the intention of getting away from the bar and maybe dancing a bit, but my phone buzzes a second later.

ARMANI: “Why are you drinking to get wasted, and you’re not walking home so late at night.”

I smile before I can stop myself while my fingers are speeding across the screen.

“Bestie fell into the O’Riley trap, so I’m all alone. Left my emergency mula on the island ‘cause you distracted me. Curse you.”

I have to be tipsy because I can’t believe I’m being so open with him.

He’s gay, Mackenzie. He’s not a rebound. Actually, he can’t be a rebound when I’m not back together with Wyatt. We’re not official or anything, so I can fuck anyone I want right now. Do I want to fuck Armani?

The thought makes my pussy quiver with heat while my cheeks feel hot. I haven’t taken a moment to really think about Armani in that light.

As an actual option.

Not like it’s possible.

Even if we did mingle or even slept with each other, it would end up becoming no different from my relationship with Wyatt.

Sneaky, private, not publicly showing how madly in love we are because of status differences.

Armani wasn’t in a different “financial class” from me, but with him being the new goalie for the Saskatchewan Pincer Blades, I didn’t want to bring his image down in any way. They would soon become famous, then that would be the perfect topic news social media outlets would spread and tear apart.

Saskatchewan Pincer Blade Goalie taking poor orphan girl of Strattonville.

The idea makes me shiver.

Not happening.

My phone dings again.

ARMANI: “I’m coming over there.”

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