Blaze has always had a lot of swagger, but now he’s perfected it. All the attention he gets has given him a big head, so big it could float in a Macy’s parade. Imagining Blaze’s head as a giant, inflated Thanksgiving Day float… well, I hate how that naturally brings up the memory of his weird, homemade porn. Where’s the reset button on my brain?
Unfortunately, that night-vision-green footage of his tight, tattooed body topped with the mascot head… it isn’t something you’ll soon forget. It even has a way of popping into your head when you don’t even mean for it to, like when I’ve got my favorite vibrator buzzing me so close.
Heat zooms over my skin just as Blaze looks up and catches me staring. I can’t read the look in his eyes from up here because I’m too busy rushing away. I know he caught me watching him. Blushing. Staring.
My pace quickens, but I can’t out power walk my shame. I don’t stop until I’m in my office. I close the door, like I need another barricade since I can’t trust the one inside. My heart beats harder than I’m comfortable with. The Witch’s Tit doesn’t feel so cold anymore. I unzip my coat, sit at my desk and force myself to focus.
Thinking about Blaze isn’t a problem. It’s literally a requirement of my job. It’s how I’m thinking about him that’s the problem.
The waitress at Foxies was right. Guys like Blaze don’t change. Why would they? If insanity is doing the same thing over and over a bunch of times and expecting different results, then Blaze is actually the sanest of everyone. He knows exactly what results he’ll get. He’s like those rats that make it through the maze to collect some cheese. Replace the cheese with drunk sex and the rat with Blaze. Although they’re pretty much one in the same, aren’t they? Life keeps rewarding Blaze for getting drunk and exploiting his natural skills with big ol’ chunks of cheese.
“I just need to change how I look at him,” I mumble. It’s time to get that boy out of my head. I open my favorite dating app and start swiping until I find a profile that looks like it might help change my perspective.
Sending messages back and forth kills some time. I’m not hiding out. I don't need a distraction. I just deserve a night out with someone who lets me forget about Blaze for a while. Tomorrow night, to be exact. With my date set, I already feel my focus shift.
I lay my phone down, searching my desk for something to do, but this isn’t a real paperwork-heavy job. Being a nagging nanny and trying to stop Blaze from stepping in dog crap are pretty much my entire job description. The downtime I get when Blaze is in his playgroup gives me a good opportunity to beef up my resume.
This job is an amazing opportunity. Unfortunately, that opportunity is very temporary. When the hockey season is over, Westbury stops worrying about Blaze and his antics. It’s not like I follow him home. When the season is over, he’s a free man, and I’m unemployed.
Another skill this job is providing me is creative writing. It’s not like I can write the truth. Instead of “excellent at publicly protesting men from strip clubs,” I’ll put “convincing public speaking skills”.
Once that’s updated and saved, there’s not much more I can do here. It’s probably getting close to the end of practice. I should find Coach Wilson and see if there’s anything he wants me to do. I don’t let myself pause in the breezeway this time. I rush through it and down the stairs, not stopping until I get in the arena seating. Before I can walk down the concrete steps to join Coach Wilson by the ice, Kaylee and Etta spot me and call me over.
“Hey, I saw your car outside.” Kaylee’s eyes look big behind her glasses. It makes it impossible not to make eye contact with her.
“Yep, another day in daycare.”
Etta laughs. “That’s a good name for it.”
“I didn’t mean all the guys.” I really didn’t. But with Kaylee dating Player and Etta being with Gucci, I want to make that extra clear.
“No, don’t worry about it. We’ve said much worse,” Kaylee agrees.
“I was talking specifically about Blaze.” I know they don’t care, but I clarify just in case.
“Yeah, well, he is a handful,” Kaylee sympathizes.
“That’s what Player says. He’s pretty normal, if you ask me.” Etta shrugs. “Don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t want your job. I wouldn’t last a day, not with all the crazy, stupid stuff Blaze does. I’m not saying he doesn’t make it hard. I’m just saying it’s typical. He’s not the only one who parties and screws around all the time.”
“Maybe not, but he’s the only one who keeps doing it even after he got the whole team in trouble,” Kaylee answers. “And, for the record, just because I’m with Noah doesn’t mean I’m a parrot for all his opinions. I have my own thoughts.” She huffs, and her glasses fog up.
“I know. I didn’t mean it that way. I just think Player is kind of hard on him,” Etta soothes.
“Yeah, but that’s because Blaze just wants to watch the world burn.”
“That’s what makes him hot.” Etta does an exaggerated eyebrow wiggle that makes Kaylee and I both laugh.
“True,” Kaylee agrees.
All three of us look out to the ice. “He’s not my type,” I lie.
“That’s a good thing, trust me,” Kaylee says.
“Yeah, Blaze is hot, but he’s completely undateable.” Etta nods.
I agree, but I don’t really want to get into why.
“I should get going.” I start to back up with that slow first step when you’re trying to end a conversation politely.
“Yeah, for sure. Hey, speaking of Blaze, we’re having a birthday party for him tomorrow night at Hector House. You’re invited if you want to come over.” Kaylee stops me in my turtle walk.
“There’s no drinking or rule breaking, promise,” Etta chimes in.
“Tomorrow night? I can’t. I have a date,” I answer. I would not go to his birthday party even if I didn’t, but I keep that part to myself.
“Oh, too bad.” Kaylee looks down but bounces back quickly. “Not that you have a date. Just that we can’t hang out. Okay, well, another time. Maybe just the girls?”
“Us and Hattie,” Etta clarifies.
“Yeah, I’d actually really like to do that.”
“Great, I’ll text you. Anyway, have fun on your date.” Kaylee finally frees me from the conversation.
“Yeah, good luck,” Etta says.
“Thanks.” I walk out of the aisle and back to the concrete steps. All the guys are getting off the ice. My entire body tenses when his intense eyes draw mine. Blaze was just staring at me.
I don’t want to feel this clench inside… like my body has a memory of his touch. It’s overpowering. Unless my date tomorrow is with someone unforgettable, either in a Prince Harry way or a killer-clown way, I’m screwed.
6
Sleepy Fruit
Blaze
Laying in the middle of my bed, I toss my bean bag stress ball up in the air and catch it again. This is without question the worst birthday I’ve ever had. Legally speaking, I can hit up whatever bar I want. I should be getting mobbed by bunnies in the VIP section while drinking the most alcohol I’ve ever consumed. Legally.
Instead, I’m dead sober. And alone. Tossing this ball up in the air. Priscilla’s rules for our team have me in lockdown. How much of my life am I supposed to give up? This entire season is such bullshit. I can’t go out to the clubs because: curfew. No beer because: no underaged drinking. I don’t even have my secret stash of CTB’s anymore. Player and Prissy found out about my Closet Temperature Beers and confiscated them. I figured it wasn’t worth the trouble to replace them. Cracking one open to celebrate today would’ve been nice. I can’t even send a dick pic because: no making porn.
But, hey, this is nice too.
I toss the ball and catch it. It’s automatic. I’m not looking. I’m not paying attention. I’m barely here. Twenty-one. This is such bullshit.
Downstairs, Hector House is full of noise. It sounds like I’m the only one having a quiet evening
. The voices of all my roommates and, annoyingly, all their girlfriends float up through my bedroom floor. It’s easy to be alone in a crowd, especially if the crowd has shunned you.
The knock at my door surprises me, but I still catch the ball without looking. “Yeah?”
Rookie opens it with a dopey look on his face. I can see how he made it to college without getting laid. He’s got zero game-face. I can tell he was sent to come get me. “Uh-are-ya busy?” He says it like he’s melded the words.
“Why are you here, man? You’re not paying rent.” I frown at the ceiling.
“Yeah, that’s true.” He nods. “Maybe next year.” He sounds hopeful, and it makes me feel even more like a dick.
It’s no secret that Griz has pretty much moved in with his girlfriend, Hattie. He still has a room here, but it’s more like a storage locker. I can’t remember the last time he spent the night here, but I can hear Griz downstairs now. If I wanted to lay here listening, I’m sure I’d hear Hattie too. They’re pretty much inseparable. Next year, he’ll probably move in with Hattie full-time which would leave a room open at Hector House, a room that Rookie is clearly gunning for.
“Yeah, maybe.” I sit up and look at him. “What’s up?”
“Listen...” He looks over his shoulder and then just walks right in. “I’m supposed to get you to come down because they’re having a surprise party for you.”
Clearly, he’s new to this.
Finally, some good fucking news. I jump out of bed. “When’s everyone coming over?”
Rookie looks down at the floor, and I know something is wrong.
“What?”
“It’s not that kind of party. It’s just us. No alcohol or girls or anything.”
“Nah. Fuck that.” I stop in my tracks.
“Come on.”
“No, I’m not going to a birthday party for a ten-year-old.”
“Why not, man? You’re acting like a ten-year-old,” he fires back. “Come on, you already got Player pissed off at me the other night.”
“Because I was helping you,” I point out. No good deed goes unpunished.
“Blaze, if you want to help me, come downstairs and act surprised.” Rookie stares at me, like he’s waiting for me to say something. When I don’t, he leaves my room.
I don’t say anything, but I do follow him down the stairs. When he makes his way to the dining room, I’m not far behind him. Everyone yells surprise, and even though it’s not what I want to be doing, I try not to be a total dick about it.
“Alright, everyone, grab some pizza and cocktails. They’re already in the kitchen,” Kaylee instructs us. Maybe it’s her big, round glasses that makes her seem like the mom of the group. Maybe it’s because she’s Player’s girl, and he’s the Team Captain. Whatever it is, everyone tends to listen when Kaylee speaks.
“Cocktails?” I look at Rookie.
How great would it be if he lied to me about the booze and bunnies? The island in the kitchen is stacked high with pizza boxes. All the guys in the house are descending on it like gulls dive-bombing a dumpster. On the counter lining the kitchen wall are a bunch of tall glasses with slushy drinks filling them. There’re sticks of fruit poking out, and, for some reason, little umbrellas.
No one else seems to have any questions about the drinks because everyone grabs one. The pizza is fine, but I normally don’t drink these even when they have alcohol in them. A sip the slushy mixture confirms it… not a hint of booze. Not a drop.
I plop down in a dining room chair, and Canuck takes a seat next to me. “Happy Birthday, Blaze.” The seats fill in around us, and just about everyone wishes me the same thing. Canuck nods at the drinks. “Those remind me of my grandmother.” He lifts his and takes a sip.
“Enjoys a good daiquiri, does she?” I ask.
“What? No.” He shakes his head. “Well, yes.” He laughs, and now other people are listening, so a bunch of us laugh with him.
“My Nan did like a strong drink. She passed away when I was in high school, and she could drink me under the table then.” Canuck smiles. “She used to make herself stuff like this, but with tons of rum in it.”
“So, how it was meant to be enjoyed?” I don’t have to look up to feel Player’s angry stare burrowing into me. I ignore it, eat my pizza and decide I’d rather pay attention to Canuck than Player.
“Yeah, and she was a strong, French-Canadian farmer. When she’d babysit and I was being a rowdy little fuck at bedtime, she’d just stay calm. She’d fix a drink like this and slowly sip it down. Anyway, when she decided she wanted some peace and quiet, she’d tell me I could eat the fruit that had been in her drink the whole time. I loved my sleepy fruit so much.” Canuck laughs.
“Sleepy fruit.” Griz nudges his sister, Etta. “That reminds me of the Christmas punch. Remember, we’d fish out the fruit the morning after the parties?”
“Oh yeah, those were so good,” she agrees before taking a huge bite of pizza.
“Yeah, except you always took all the good fruit. I’d get stuck with lemon slices.”
“When life gives you lemon slices,” Etta cuts in.
“You eat them and get a buzz,” Griz answers.
“Well, there’s no sleepy fruit in these.” Kaylee smiles.
“That’s a fucking shame,” I cut in. “I could use a lot of fucking sleepy fruit right now.”
Player is getting pretty tense. I can see him clenching up. “Why don’t you go smoke another joint. That usually does the trick, doesn’t it?”
He’s always on my ass about everything, so I’ve gotten used to ignoring his comments. Player has looked down his nose at me since I got arrested last year. Now that he’s with Kaylee, he acts like his entire fucking nickname wasn’t given to him because of how much pussy he used to get. Now that he’s settled down, and I’m still doing the exact same stuff he did as a single guy in college, I’m the fucking degenerate. Hypocrite.
Not only is he a hypocrite, he’s lame now. Player used to be a fun guy to hit the clubs with. Now, he’d rather cozy up to his girl and binge-watch Netflix. Like my parents. Life is too short to settle down when you’re young. Player and Kaylee might be dreaming of sharing a house with a white picket fence, but that’s not for me.
“No, you don’t need any sleepy fruit.” Kaylee also ignores her boyfriend’s comment and looks at me. “We got you a cake, and that’s way better. Cake won’t get you kicked off the team.” She gives me a look. As the unofficial mom of our group, a look is all she needs to give me to shut me up.
“I’ll grab it.” Etta pops up from her chair and heads out to the kitchen. She returns quickly and starts singing a warbly Happy Birthday. It doesn’t get less awkward when more people join in.
“It’s an ice cream cake.” Kaylee is so much more excited about this than I can even pretend to be.
“Perfect.” I fake a half-smile. I know she means well, but this is… “It’s every ten-year-old’s dream.”
“That’s a pretty fucked up way to say thank you.” Player glares at me. “Especially since Kaylee bought this stupid cake for you. I told you that grocery store one was fine.” He gives her one of those pointed looks that couples do. The ones that say, “See?”
“It’s okay, I had a coupon for it and it was going to expire, so…” Kaylee pushes her glasses up her nose and shrugs.
Player’s eyes flash when they land on me. “Coupon or not, she went out of her way for your stupid birthday cake. So, how about you shut the fuck up and eat it. No one cares if this is the party you wanted. It’s still way more party than you deserve.”
“You make one lousy porno and don’t deserve a twenty-first? Fuck off, man. You’ve had your own scandals before you got college-married,” I answer.
“No, you fuck off.” He stands up. I do too. Kaylee grabs his hand, and that seems to deflate him a bit.
“We would’ve taken you out to the bar, but you fucked that up for the entire team. And even after you fucked that up for us, everyone
still tried to make this birthday special for you. But you don’t give a shit because you can’t get fucked up. Because you don’t give a shit about anyone but you.”
“You’re right. I don’t give a shit. I’m out of here.” I walk away.
I’m probably supposed to go sulk in my room like a twelve-year-old who got grounded. Instead, I grab my jacket and keys and get my boots on. I don’t know where I’m going, but I know I’m not staying here. I’m probably going to miss out on a wild game of pin the tail or musical fucking chairs, but I’m out. I can’t stomach anymore of this. It’s a bit too Stepford Wives in suburbia for me.
The only time I want to feel like I’m partying in the suburbs is if I’m fucking all the wives at a swinger party. That’s a birthday party I could get behind. Fuck Player and his college-marriage and white-picket-fence dreams. I’m going to ring in my twenty-first the way nature intended, drowning in booze and pussy.
7
Happy Birthday
Priscilla
“You’d make beautiful babies.” My date leans in when he says it, white wine tilting in his glass. His green eyes are fixed on mine. Damon is a very handsome guy talking about making babies on a first date. The flag might not be serial-killer red, but it’s some shade of red.
“Oh, okay.” I nod without knowing how to respond. I take a drink of my wine instead, hoping to let the awkward moment pass, but he just keeps staring at me. Waiting for me to speak.
“I’m not in a hurry to find out.” I look down at the dessert that he insisted we share. The one I specifically said I didn’t want. The huge slice of cake sits between us with two forks, and again he’s waiting for me, expectantly.
Damon lifts his fork and waits for me to do the same. It’s weird. I’m not sure why I grab mine. I guess it feels less awkward than dealing with his staring. “That’s too bad. I’m sure at your age you could have a bunch of kids pretty quickly. You probably wouldn’t even need that much downtime,” he says like he’s bargaining a deal.
BLAZE: Enemies to Lovers College Hockey Romance Page 4