Only One Chance

by Madison, Natasha

  Never in a million years did I think I would end up playing in the NHL. Did I want it? Yes. Did I think it was possible? Nope. I played hockey like any other kid in Canada. I was good, but I wasn’t great. I started my junior year in the low category, but something just clicked into place that year, and I moved up to the higher level.

  The coach of that team took a liking to me, and he introduced me to one of the scouts he knew. I was drafted one hundred and twenty-ninth overall to Chicago. It was exciting, but I had to be realistic. The chances that I was actually going to play for them were slim to none. So I went hard at school and graduated with a degree in economics and mathematics. Something that only got mentioned when I was on the cover of GQ one year. I got called up one game and, let me tell you, playing your first game in the NHL is a feeling you will never ever forget. The fans on their feet, cheering for the team. The rush of the game is so much faster than you can ever imagine, and I made the best of it. I went on the ice and skated my fastest, passed smartly, and when the third period came around, I scored the game-winning goal.

  From that day on, I was on the ice with them, but when the summer came around, they traded me to Dallas. I was shocked and confused, but I was excited for the start. Now I’ve been here for eight years, and I’m one of the oldest ones on the team. I shake my head, laughing. Old my ass.

  Pulling up to the arena, I park in my designated spot. I climb out of my car and then grab my phone to text Becca, my agent, and tell her that I’m here. Then I take a picture for my Instagram.

  The picture is of me smiling, and the caption is:

  This could be all yours. Going once, going twice.

  Putting my phone away, I walk into the arena and see all the changes they made in order to get us to party here. The arena has been transformed into a ballroom with a huge black stage at the back of the ice. Seeing all the round tables situated in front of it makes it feel weird that I played on this ice yesterday. The tables are covered in white tablecloths with crystal standing chandeliers. People mingle as waiters and waitresses pass out food and champagne. I spot the bar right away and start my way there when I’m stopped by a couple of fans who are attending. I smile and pose for a picture and then finally bump into Manning on my way to the bar.

  “Look at you, Mr. GQ,” Manning, my best friend and captain of the team, jokes as he slaps my shoulder. He’s been calling me that ever since I was on the cover six years ago. “You look dapper.” I shake my head. He’s the only man who stands six feet six and is built like an ox who can use the word dapper.

  “We are wearing the same fucking suit.” I point at him, shaking my head. “Let's take a picture together and put it on Instagram so we can do a poll on who wears it better.” I slide my phone out, and he pushes me away.

  “I don’t do that shit.” He’s the only one who refuses to take part in social media. However, he’s the first to help out or donate his time. “It’s enough I have to put up with the pictures tonight from the press. I don’t need you adding to it.”

  “I’ll take a club soda,” I tell the bartender, “with lime.” Looking over at Manning, who puts his hands in his pockets, I see the vein in his head start to pulse. When I see what he’s looking at, I laugh. His wife is the social butterfly. She is in the middle of everything, schmoozing and flirting. “Whatever, man. You get to take her home tonight.”

  Manning looks around before he talks. “Don’t remind me.” He brings his whiskey to his lips. To the outside world, they are a perfect couple, but those who know him, know he’s living in hell. I don’t know when it happened, but she might be the devil. “She threatened to post on Instagram and actually created an account for me.”

  “Did you tell Candace? She’d be so pissed if you didn’t become one of her clients,” I say to him. “Don’t look now,” I tell him, seeing Candace and her boyfriend, Ralph, walking toward us.

  “Boys,” Ralph says when he gets close enough. He is quieter than some of our other teammates. He’s fierce on the ice, but no one would call him the life of the party.

  “You,” Candace says right away, pointing at me. “Are you insane?”

  “Me?” I ask her, confused.

  “Do you know how many DMs you got because of your Instagram picture?” I look at her as she glares. “My phone has been blowing up. One girl wants to suck your dick for a hundred dollars.”

  “What?” I ask her, taking out my phone to check my comments and seeing she’s right. “What is with all these women? Also, only a hundred dollars?” I ask, looking up and seeing Layla walking in. I swear my cock springs to action the minute I catch a glimpse of her bare leg through the slit in her long strapless black dress. Her long brown hair curled and swaying, she stops a waiter and takes a glass of champagne, smiling at him.

  “Earth to Miller,” Candace says. “You need to edit that post,” she tells me, and I just hand her the phone.

  “Don’t click on my photos,” I warn with a wink, and Ralph pushes my shoulder.

  “Is the ring on her finger not enough to tell you that you can’t flirt with her?” He looks over at Manning. “Can you believe this guy?”

  “Yes, I can.” Manning nods. “Do you not remember when we all got his dick picture?”

  “That was on Snapchat.” I throw my head back and close my eyes, thinking about last year when I sent it by accident. “It was an accident.” They all laugh.

  “What is everyone laughing about?” Layla says once she comes closer to us, and I see her holding a glass of champagne.

  “The time Miller sent his dick picture to everyone on Snapchat,” Candace says and then looks at me, then back at Layla. “You look amazing, by the way.” I’m about to tell her that she looks gorgeous when I hear someone talking.

  “There you are.” I look over to see Manning’s wife coming over to us. She smiles at the guys and literally rolls her eyes when she sees Layla and Candace. “Nico would like a picture of us,” she says, looping her hand through Manning’s arm. “Shall we?” He takes his hands out of his pockets, and she grips his arm. He walks away from us without saying anything.

  “Why is she like that?” Layla asks.

  “At least she never poured a drink over your head,” Candace says, and Layla laughs.

  “I thought you were going to throat punch her,” Layla says, taking a drink.

  “Okay, let’s go spend some money,” Ralph says, pulling Candace away to the silent auction items.

  “And just like that”—I smirk—“it’s just you and me, gorgeous.” I wink at her, and she rolls her eyes.

  “You’re so gross,” she scoffs, finishing her drink and placing the glass on a passing tray. She smiles at the waiter as she grabs another glass and downs half of it in one shot. “Oh, look,” she says, pointing at a group of women dressed to the nines who are all huddled together, all holding drinks, and all looking this way. “Well, there you have it. Your harem has arrived.”

  “You know green is not a good color on you.” I push away from the bar and go up to her. She looks down at herself and then up again.

  “Are you color blind?” she jokes, and I see her just eye me.

  “You’re green with jealousy.” I get closer to her as she throws her head back and laughs.

  “Jealous?” She finishes the drink in two gulps, then leans past me. Her hair brushes across my face, and her smell gets my cock going again. “Of you?” She pffts as she grabs another glass and finishes it, then swaps it out for a fresh one before the waiter can get away. “At every single party we’ve both attended, you’ve left with a different girl each time.” She laughs now. “Once, you left with one girl, then came back two hours later, and left with another one. I’d watch myself if I were you,” she says as she passes my ear and then comes back. She motions with her head toward them and then laughs again. “You’d best be careful of them.” She looks at them. “Those girls look like they stab holes in the condoms.” I shiver. “The blonde looks like she can be a baby momma.” I look ove
r at the blonde who winks and then sticks her tongue out and rolls it over her lips. “I think that is her mating call.”

  “That is horrible,” I say, then put my hands in my pockets. “Are you ready?”

  “For?” She looks at me and moves just a touch, and I can see her long smooth leg come out. A leg that I’m going to hook around my hip right before I slide my cock into her.

  “I don’t know about you, gorgeous.” I get closer to her, and I can see her swallow. “But I know how this story ends.” I’ve been chasing her for the past four fucking years. Everyone I meet falls for my charm, but not Layla. She’s hated me since we first met, and it kills me that nothing I do changes her opinion of me.

  “Really?” She crosses her arms over her chest, pushing up her tits.

  “Really?” I nod.

  “Is it with you catching chlamydia?” She laughs. “Don’t worry, I heard all it takes is four pills, and you’ll be back to normal.” She turns then and starts to walk away.

  “Is that so?” She halts. “In my story, it ends with you …” Walking closer to her, I look around to see if anyone is watching, then my voice goes low. “Naked under me.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” she says. She storms away from me, and I can see that I almost got to her.

  “Just a matter of time,” I tell myself right before the blonde comes up to me. Her Southern accent hits me right away.

  “Well, hey there,” she says with a smile, and I swear my cock hides. “I’m Darla.”

  “Miller,” I say although I know that she knows this. “Are you having a good time?”

  “Not as good as I’m going to have tonight when I take you home,” she says. I can already tell she’s a stage five clinger. “So tell me, Miller …” She comes closer, trailing her manicured index finger down my suit jacket. “What do you like for breakfast?”

  “Um,” I say, and then I step back so her hand falls, “if you will excuse me, I think I see someone I have to say hello to.” I smile as I lie, walking away from her. I turn to my right, and my eyes meet Layla’s. She is shocked that I caught her staring, and she turns her head away so fast I’m surprised she doesn’t have whiplash.

  “It’s game time,” I tell myself. For the past four maybe even five years, I have tried and failed miserably to get her to date me. But I was never a quitter, so I’m not going to start now.

  Chapter 3

  Layla

  My eyes lock with his, and the smirk on his face is making my blood boil. So what if I was caught looking at him? It’s a big room, and my eyes were just wandering. No one who is that arrogant should also be that good looking, I think to myself as I finish off another glass of champagne. Besides, every time I look around the room, I find him flirting with another woman. Each of the women hangs on to his every word and then pretends what he is saying is so funny, making me roll my eyes. I can just imagine which one he’s going to slide out of here with. Just the thought has me taking another glass of champagne.

  “A penny for your thoughts.” I hear from beside me and look over to see Candace holding a glass of champagne in her hands.

  “I was just thinking that I hate dressing up and that half these people are fake.” I look around the dimly lit room, I mean arena. I’m still always shocked when I attend functions here, and it’s not hockey. The wooden floor put over the ice, and the tables scattered everywhere so people can sit. “Actually, more like seventy-five percent of the people are fake.”

  “I think more like ninety percent of the people are fake,” Candace says to me, taking the last sip of her champagne, and just like any great event, there is always a waiter there to take your glass and offer you another one. I down the rest of the champagne and grab another glass. “Did you drive here?”

  “Negative,” I tell her, taking a sip. “You didn’t think I would attend this thing and not drink?” I smile at her. Ignoring the flutters in my stomach, I look around the venue again and spot Miller talking to yet another woman. Why the fuck do they flock to him? Fine, he’s good looking—I’ll give him that—but he’s an asshole. Okay, fine, he’s also not that. I think it’s just because he’s cocky. It’s as though he knows he’s good looking with his perfect hair and brown eyes some women have called bedroom eyes. And then you have the scruff on his face that surrounds his perfect lips and his perfect fucking abs. God, he’s the most annoying person I know. He’s been on my ass to date him forever, and the more I deny him, the harder he pushes. I know his type. He’s after the chase, and once he gets it, I’ll be just another notch on his bedpost. From the way people talk, the bed frame already needs to be replaced.

  Candace takes a sip of her drink. “I will say that your dress is fucking stunning.” She looks me up and down, and I have to admit when I tried it on, I knew it was made for me. The black dress hugs my every single curve, and it’s almost like a corset by the way it brings in my stomach and enhances my hips. But my favorite part is the slit that looks like it goes all the way up to my hip bone but only goes to my upper thigh.

  “Isn’t it?” I take a sip and roll my lips. “By the way, nice dress.” I wink at her, looking down at the tight black dress she’s wearing. “That isn’t the one you bought.” I point out. When we went shopping, she got a green off-the-shoulder dress that was short in the front and long in the back. It was perfect for her.

  “I know that, asshole,” she hisses at me, making me laugh. Candace and I met at an event for the hockey team, almost like this one, four years ago. Her brother, Evan, was playing for the Dallas team. The two of us struck up a conversation and just clicked. Ever since then, we’ve been best friends. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for her, and I know that if I was arrested or stranded somewhere, I couldn’t and wouldn’t be able to call her because she’d most likely be with me. “Ralph ‘accidentally’”—she uses her two fingers as quotations—“ripped it when he was zipping me up.” She shakes her head.

  “That’s fucking gross.” I look at her. “And hot AF.” I wink at her. “I was going to say you had that glow.”

  She puts one of her palms on her cheek right when Ralph comes over and puts an arm around her waist. “What are you two talking about?” he asks before leaning forward and kissing Candace, then taking a sip of his drink in his hand.

  “I was just telling Candace she has the ‘I just got fucked’ glow,” I tell him. He coughs, and I roll my lips to keep from laughing. I hold up my glass to him as he tries to catch his breath. “Good job.” Candace throws her head back and laughs while Ralph tries not to choke.

  “She does not have the glow. It’s all the glam she did,” Ralph finally says. “I told you not to put all that stuff on yourself.” He starts to rub her cheeks, and she pushes his hands away.

  “There is no glam,” she tells him. “Now, did you bid on anything?” she asks him of the silent auction, and he just nods.

  “Oh, I haven’t gone to bid yet,” I tell them. “I’ll catch you later. Save me a seat next to you,” I tell them and turn to walk toward the tables set up at the back of the venue. I smile to a couple of people I know, and I stop to talk to Nico, the owner of the team.

  “Hey there,” he says, leaning forward to kiss my cheek. Nico screams sex machine, and he doesn’t even have to try. His demeanor does it all for him. He takes no prisoners and apologizes to no one. He inherited the team when he turned thirty and became the youngest owner of any team in the league. It was a shitty team, to say the least, but he dug his heels in and went out there. He had a general manager, but everyone knew that Nico did his own bidding. If he wanted you, he made sure you knew he wanted you. There was no middleman with Nico. “So glad you can make it.”

  “Oh, you know me,” I say with a shrug. “Always ready to play dress-up.”

  He laughs now. “I can spot that lie a mile away,” he says. “But seriously, I wanted to thank you personally for all the publicity you gave this event on your show.” He looks down and puts his hands in his suit pockets. “It was good to l
isten and not get my ass handed to me.”

  It’s my turn now to laugh. “I’m not that bad.” He just looks at me. “Listen, I say what everyone thinks. The only difference is mine is broadcasted live.”

  “Yeah, I’m not sure it’s a good thing,” he says. “Anyway, go and enjoy and save your money. The live bachelor auction starts in a bit.”

  I try not to groan as I walk away from him to the tables. I go through the prizes—a signed puck, a signed jersey, a game in the press box, and four tickets to the All-Star game—and I bid on the All-Star game package, thinking that I could give it away on the air. I’m about to turn around when I bump into a hard chest. Male hands automatically grab my upper arms. “Careful, gorgeous.” I hear his voice and groan, then move my shoulders out of his touch. “What did you bid on?” he asks, walking to the table and going through the sheets. “Oh, look at this.” He picks up a sheet and flashes it my way. “A weekend away in a hidden cabin.” He winks at me. “What do you say? You, me?”

  “How secluded is it?” I ask him, and he looks down at the paper. “Like, is there a chance they will find your dead body?” I laugh, and he just shakes his head. He’s about to say something else when I see a blonde walk our way. Her hips swing, and her tits bounce. “Incoming.” I motion with my head in the direction she’s coming from. It’s his turn now to groan. “Don’t lie, you love all this attention,” I say, and I’m about to walk away when the blonde steps in front of me.

  “Miller.” She sings his name, walking to him and getting chest to chest with him. “I am so excited about the auction.” I roll my eyes and turn to walk away, but not before hearing her beg him to take her home tonight.