Page 17 of Bad Pucking Roommate

“I wish. Unfortunately, they don’t seem to do the trick. Not by themselves anyway. I need the person watching to be a guy.”

Justus cocks his head to the side. “Are you bi also? I’m not really good at sensing these things.”

Here’s the part that really makes me sound like an asshole.

“No, not bi. I don’t need a man watching because I’m attracted to them or anything, although if he’s touching himself it makes the whole thing hotter, it’s just… Somewhere along the way I think I convinced myself the guy watching wanted tobeme. Or got off on knowing a famous hockey player was withhisgirl, like that made me more important somehow.Fuck, I can’t believe I just told you that.” I thunk my head against the headboard again. “Not even Noah knows that part.”

“Why’d you tell me?” Justus’s voice is barely audible even though he’s sitting next to me.

“No idea. Shit,” I laugh, “you probably wish you picked a different favorite player as a kid.”

“Actually, I’m even more convinced I picked the right one.”

I feel like one of those cartoon characters whose jaw literally hits the floor when they’re shocked. That’s how far mine seems to be hanging open right now. “You can’t be serious. I just admitted I’m egotisticalandborderline disturbed. That’s hardly role model material.”

“Whatever you are off the ice, you’re still the most talented player on it. And because of this conversation, I also know you’re pretty self-aware. Lots of people struggle to understand themselves—I’m pretty sure Noah’s going through that right now—but you know exactly who you are. That’s an admirable trait.”

“It’s admirable that I know I’m flawed?” My eyes take a trip to the back of my head.

“Everyone has flaws. Most people can’t see their own—and I’m not saying having an ego or being an exhibitionist is a flaw—I’m saying you’re able to see yourself clearly instead of believing you’re something you’re not. And thatisadmirable. It means you have the knowledge to make changes if you want to or stand behind the person you are now. Either way, the ability to really see yourself makes you more authentic than most people.”

His words don’t give me any clarity about how to get rid of my superstitions, but they do make me feel somewhat better.How does a guy ten years my junior do that?“Why do I feel like I’m talking to a shrink?”

Justus dips his head as his cheeks get pink. “I studied psychology. Not long enough to get a degree, but that’s what I would’ve done if my NHL career didn’t take off.”

“To understand your Grandpa’s dementia?”

Justus seems to stop breathing for a second before he answers. “How did you guess that?”

“You get this kind of distant look on your face when you mention him.”

“I do?” He seems genuinely surprised to learn that.

“Yeah. It’s almost like you’re remembering something. I can never tell if it’s something happy or sad, though.”

“A little of both. Grandpa got me into hockey. It’s hard to accept he doesn’t really grasp the fact I made it this far.” A wistful smile tugs the corner of his lip before he shakes his head and turns his attention back to me. “So, yeah. I remember just enough to know that the ability to see yourself clearly is a good trait for a role model.”

“And my othertraits?” I snort. “What did your studies tell you about sex-based superstitions?”

“I never got to the sexual stuff. I’m pretty sure those are higher level classes, specifically so you don’t get a bunch of horny kids taking them.” He’s blushing again, I assume because we’re talking about sex and my unusual preferences while we’re sitting on the same bed.

“What about superstitions in general though? Any way to get rid of them?”

Justus chews absently on his lip. “Having clear goals, positive thinking. Nothing that’s going to instantly make it go away, though. It’s all about reframing your state of mind…”

“Which I don’t have time to do if we want to make a run at the cup this year.” I finish the thought for him.

The guy who once told me he tries to have a glass half-full outlook just like his Grandpa withers in front of me, spine curling as his shoulders droop, almost like he’s taking it personally that he doesn’t have a solution. I’m half-tempted to put my arm around him, which is pretty ironic considering up until a few seconds ago he’s the one who was trying to comfort me. I'm just about to convince myself to do it when he suddenly straightens and faces me with a steely look.

“No.” I shake my head firmly.

“What other choice is there?”

“Depending on the city, there are people I can call, and I can ask them to bring a friend. Plus, it’s not as hard as you’d think to pick up a couple.”

“And when that couple tells people about it, which you know they’ll do since most people can’t keep celebrity encounters secret. What then?” Justus’s brow furrows with worry.

“I actually have an NDA for that situation. Remember, I didn’t always have Noah’s help.” I shrug away his astonished expression.

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