Page 81 of Wrong Pucking Player

This is the best celebratory way of starting this new path in a passion I’ve yearned to return to.

A shame I can’t be on the ice like everyone else.

RUNNING AWAY FROM THE TRUE ME

~MACKENZIE~

“Yup. This is worse than the walk of shame,” I conclude to myself as I quietly walk down the stairs from the suite.

When I turn the corner, there’s a petite blonde at the desk, watching TikTok. She briefly lifts her head to acknowledge me.

“Not staying the rest of the night?” she inquires with a sweet smile.

At least she isn’t judging me. Not yet anyway.

“Nah, I ‘ve got to get back to reality,” I confess, hoping she understands.

“I got it,” she says with a wink. “I’ll let him know you had to leave early?”

“Yeah, I have an internship to finalize today,” I use as the perfect excuse since I’m not really lying. “He’ll understand.”

“Looks like a good guy,” she admits as she takes me in from head to toe. I’m not sure whether to feel threatened by her comment, but frankly, I’m too tired to get into a catfight at four in the morning.

“He is.” My smile is only halfway.

“You deserve better, though.”

I’m turning away when she says those words, encouraging me to stop and glance back at her to see her appreciative grin.

“He was watching you all night long, envious when any guy looked your way, but can’t take you home?” she summarizes and lowers her gaze to her phone. “Possessive men are hot, but don’t ignore what a red flag that is. Get a man who will make you feel safe and comfortable enough to sleep in his arms until morning.” She’s looking at me again. “Or why not just keep it as friends with benefits?”

She’s right.

I know she is.

“Thanks for the advice.” I’m too tired to try to defend Cyrus Jr because everything she said was a fact.

Not a single lie was said.

Didn’t think I’d be getting such wisdom at four a.m. at the reception desk of the Bar Suites, but here we are.

Yup. Much worse than the walk of shame.

When I get outside, there are a few smokers and drunk jocks laughing and talking smack. Ignoring them, I go the opposite direction before taking my phone out to try to navigate how the hell I’m getting home.

Opening the Uber App rewards me with a list of available rides from here to my place.

“Oh fuck no. One hundred dollars? What do they think this is?”

When I’d checked earlier, it was twenty-five bucks max.

No way am I paying that shit of a price. I don’t even have that money on me. Fuck…

Biting my lip, I briefly come to a stop and stare at my phone, which is trembling slightly in my hand.

I really hate this.

This deprived feeling of not having enough to succeed in life.

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