PUCKED

by Helena Hunting

Part of me wants to defend Buck; he’s a nice guy under all the whoriness. But if Sunny was my sister, I would castrate Buck before he could get his dick into her. Sadly, with the way Sunny gazes at Buck and Buck smiles back at her, it appears this may have already happened. Alex could be too late to save his sister. I should offer to take her to the walk-in clinic later today.

  Sunny props her fist on her hip. “Look who’s calling the kettle a pot!”

  She and Buck may be on a level playing field intellectually with the way she completely butchered that saying.

  Apparently Daisy gets what Sunny is trying to say. She defends Alex’s nonexistent virtue. “Don’t you say things like that about your brother!”

  Either she’s truly in complete denial or she’s too blinded by her maternal love to see the truth. Alex may not be a player, but he can be a dirty, dirty boy.

  I look around the room; the various expressions are hilarious. Sunny is enraged, Daisy looks like she might cry, Buck is staring at Sunny’s chest—so he has no idea what’s happening—and Robbie has pulled the fruit tray closer. He’s shoveling food into his mouth and peeking up on occasion to check if anyone notices. I like him.

  Sunny props a fist on her hip. “I saw the paper this morning. Did you?”

  “What paper?” Alex asks.

  “The tabloids. There’s a whole article on what happened in the locker room yesterday.”

  “Wait, what?” Buck is suddenly alert. As are Alex and I.

  “It’s not like I’d actually believe any of the stuff in there. Even if it’s mostly made up, it sure doesn’t make any of you look good.”

  “What kind of tabloids do you read?” Buck is wearing his constipated expression.

  It’s clear he’s afraid Sunny has read about his sexual exploits in the tabloids. He’s too involved with figuring out what Sunny might know about him; he forgets about the argument brewing with Alex and settles into hushed conversation with her.

  Alex and I look at each other, clearly wanting to know the same thing—what did Sunny see in the tabloids and how much should I worry.

  I have no idea what’s happening between Buck and Sunny, but I have to admit, even though the two of them seem as deep as a puddle, they get along well. Buck is actually being polite.

  Brunch is awkward, in part due to our inability to get the information we need. Robbie leads the conversation. He’s incredibly articulate for a man under the influence of pot. Alex mentions taking me to the Guelph campus later, and Robbie goes off on a tangent about the Women in Lit classes he took during his undergrad.

  He pats Daisy’s hand. “That’s where I met my Daisy. She was the smartest, most beautiful woman in the room, so of course I had to ask her out.”

  “That’s not true. I failed the course, and you asked me out because none of the other women in the class were interested in you,” Daisy replies.

  “And you were the most beautiful woman in the room.” He kisses her cheek without getting a mouthful of hard hair. It’s amazing.

  “How about the two of you? How did you meet?” Daisy directs the question at me.

  “We met after a Hawks game.”

  “Oh?”

  “I went with my family to see Buck play.”

  She smiles the same calculating smile she wore when Alex and I first arrived. “That’s so nice. Sunny comes to games if she can, but she’s in school right now and her studies are important to her. What about you? What is it you do?”

  “I’m an accountant.”

  “Really? But you’re so young.” Daisy folds her hands under her chin. The evil glint in her eyes makes me nervous.

  “I graduated with my bachelor's in accounting and finance last spring, so I’ve been working at my firm for less than a year.”

  “What kind of accounting do you do?”

  “Vi manages my bank accounts.” Bucks spears a sausage patty and crams it into his mouth.

  “So you manage sports figures’ accounts?”

  “Mostly. I’m a junior accountant, so I only manage smaller accounts, apart from Buck’s.”

  She tilts her helmet head to the side, her inquisitiveness intimidating. “You must be very familiar with what these boys make during their career.”

  “Mom.” I can hear the tension in Alex’s voice.

  “What? I’m just interested in getting to know Violet. It’s been a long time since you’ve brought a girl home to meet us.” Daisy gives him an angelic smile and then turns her attention back to me. “It sounds like a very interesting job. It must be a lot of responsibility.”

  I nod enthusiastically. “Oh, it is. I love working with numbers and figures.”

  Daisy doesn’t ask any more questions about my job. Her blatant dislike makes me so nervous I can barely eat. I force food down so as not to offend her further. Alex doesn’t say much apart from directing the occasional barb at Sunny and Buck. Neither pick up on them; they're likely too busy playing footsies under the table.

  After brunch, Alex takes our bags upstairs and gives me a tour of the rest of the house.

  “I’m really sorry about this,” he says once we’re away from his family. “I only planned for a meal. I thought if we did brunch we could get out of dinner.”

  “Your family wants time with you. It’s understandable.” I still wish we were staying at a hotel where I don’t have to worry about behaving myself after dark.

  We make our way up a narrow flight of stairs to the third floor. It’s an awesome room if you’re an eighteen-year-old boy. It looks like nothing has changed since Alex moved out. The ceilings are high and angled, and large windows frame either end of the wide space. Hockey paraphernalia hangs everywhere, and posters from the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition have the prime spot above his bed.

  Alex drops our bags on the floor beside his double bed and pulls out his laptop.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Checking for the article Sunny was talking about.” He clicks furiously for a few seconds. His brow furrows as he scans the screen.

  I sit down and read with him. Very little of the article has to do with the fight, the mystery of the locker room is much more interesting. There’s nothing concrete in the article. It’s speculation apart from a few grainy photos of Alex smuggling me out of the arena’s emergency exit and a few more of him ushering me onto the bus. My face isn’t visible.

  He heaves a sigh of relief and squeezes the back of my neck. “No one will recognize you.”

  “That’s good. What about Buck and Sunny? Do you think there will be pictures of them, too?”

  Loads of pictures flood the screen when he puts their names into the search bar together. “Shit. This isn’t good. Buck better watch himself.”

  They’re all pretty harmless as far as I can tell. Nothing like the ones of Alex and me mouth fucking.

  “If it’s any consolation, I don’t think Buck has ever done the whole ‘brunch with parents’ thing.”

  “He’s probably doing it to get back at me.”

  ”Maybe they genuinely like each other.”

  “If he does anything to hurt Sunny, I’m going to kick his ass.”

  “Totally reasonable. I’ll even help.” I really hope it isn’t something I’ll have to follow through on. I change the topic, not wanting this to ruin the rest of our day. Honestly, I would feel the same way if I were Alex.

  “Why don’t we go out? You said you were going to show me around Guelph. I’d love to see where the Hobbits live.”

  Alex takes me to The University of Guelph, where there are no Hobbits. Spread over the expanse of a square mile, the campus is a stunning fusion of old architecture and modern design. He even takes me to the hockey rink where he was scouted for the NHL. I try to imagine what it would've been like to be offered millions of dollars a year to play a game with blades on my feet barely out of high school.

  Every time Alex runs into someone he knows—which is often—he introduces me as his girlfriend. It’s sweet. No one takes phot
os or asks for his autograph. They treat him like a normal person. It’s a refreshing change from the scene after the games. Especially considering the whole locker room debacle.

  “I’d like to take you out to meet some of my friends tonight, if that’s okay,” Alex says once we’re back in the car.

  “Sure, that sounds great.” This is big. Family is huge, but friends are the ones you end up hanging out with.

  We head back to his parents' to freshen up after our little adventure. Alex won’t tell me anything about our plans. All I know is that I should dress casually and we’re having dinner with whoever we’re meeting up with. He’s being too vague. These are the kinds of surprises I don’t like.

  I have an idea. I’m not above using methods of half-naked persuasion to get the intel I need. Excusing myself to the bathroom, I strip down to my undershirt and underwear.

  Alex is sitting in a pint-sized computer chair with his back to me, talking on his Bluetooth when I come out. I’m definitely going to make fun of him later.

  “Publicity spots? The timing's pretty inconvenient.” He taps restlessly on the desk. “Yeah. I know. You didn’t hear the shit he was spewing—Fine. I get it. I’ll keep my temper in check.”

  Alex cracks his neck. Clearly he’s unhappy with whoever he’s speaking with.

  “It’s all conjecture. There aren’t any pictures from last night. It was only the two of us—” He swivels in his chair. “Hearing and seeing aren’t the same. Just email the questions and tell me what you want me to say.” He pauses. “Why would I need to tell you about her? It’s pretty self-evident, isn’t it? What? Why would I do that?” Alex clicks the mouse in his left hand, opening an email attachment. I recognize the picture from the other night. The one of Alex and me where my face is obscured. “So what? How would that impact either endorsement?” Another long pause ensues. “What’s a couple of weeks matter?”

  They’re talking about me in relation to endorsements. It makes me uneasy, especially with how agitated Alex has become.

  “That’s not fair. You should’ve said something long before now if this was going to be an issue. It’s not like I tried to keep it a secret. Motherf—No. Yeah. I get it.” He runs his hand through his hair. “I know it’s good exposure, but—yeah. The money isn’t the issue . . . Well, what the fuck am I supposed to tell—”

  I take a step backward, rethinking my plan. The floor creaks under my foot, and Alex swivels in his chair.

  “I don’t like—” His jaw drops. “I gotta go. I’ll call you on Monday.”

  He takes off the headset and drops it on his desk. He misses, so it lands on the floor.

  “Who was that?” I finger the hem of my tank.

  “My agent, Dick.” His eyes drop from my chest to my waist.

  “Are you in trouble for the other night?”

  Alex shrugs. “He’ll get over it.”

  I’m not sure I should buy his nonchalance. “You sounded pretty upset.”

  “Just annoyed. I have an interview spot as soon as I get back to Chicago.”

  “For the fight or the locker room?”

  “Both. But you don’t need to worry about that.” He grips the armrests and swivels in his chair. “These are my new favorite panties, by the way.”

  “I believe these are technically called underpants.” I trace the outline of The Hulk. His cartoon body is strategically placed so it looks like he’s punching his way out of my cooter.

  “I don’t give a shit what you call them; they’re perversely fantastic on you.” He twirls his finger, signaling for me to turn around.

  I comply and am rewarded with a heavy exhalation of breath and muttered profanity. I turn to face him again and saunter his way.

  When I’m close enough, he slides his palms up my legs and wraps his hands around the backs of my thighs. He’s still staring at the underpants.

  “I love the flap.” I finger the opening. “It’s very convenient.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” Alex brushes my hand out of the way. I whimper in anticipation as he slips his fingers into the little pocket. His other hand travels up my thigh and under the elastic to palm my ass.

  He circles the beaver button and slides two fingers inside me. He hits the spot that makes me feel a million shades of sheer awesomeness. My moan dies on my lips as the door to his room bursts open.

  Daisy stands at the threshold, holding out a framed photograph.

  I look down at Alex, who’s looking at his mother with an expression of sheer, unfiltered horror. “I guess you forgot to lock the door.”

  This is exactly the reason why we should’ve gone to a damn hotel.

  ALEX

  “Oh my God!” My mother raises the humiliating picture of me in front of her face like a shield.

  “Mom!”

  Backing out of the room, she fumbles with the door and slams it shut.

  “As if she doesn’t hate me enough already.” Violet’s face is beet red and blotchy.

  “She doesn’t hate you.” I circle her clit with my thumb as a distraction. “I’m so sorry.”

  She pushes my hand away. I can’t say I blame her for giving up the orgasm quest, all things considered. “We can still get a hotel room tonight. I’ll make a call.”

  “Don’t do that. I don’t want to offend your mom. More than I already have, anyway.” She grabs her bag from the floor. “I should get ready to go wherever we’re going.”

  She disappears into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. I drop my head back and scrub a hand over my face. The same one that was just inside Violet’s underpants, which means I’ve rubbed her pussy all over my damn face. Those fucking underpants. Why they’re so hot is beyond me. Christ. I’ve got one hell of a hard-on, and it doesn’t look like I’m going to be able to do a damn thing about it now.

  Today has turned into a fucking nightmare. First Buck shows up for brunch with my sister—God only knows where they’ve gone now. Following it with the call from my agent about the locker room BS and cooling it with Violet until the publicity for the Bachelor of the Year is out of the way was bad enough. Then my mother walks in while I have my hand in Violet’s underwear. Can’t a guy get a break and a little fucking privacy when he needs it?

  While Violet hides out in the bathroom—because that’s what she’s doing—I take the opportunity to deal with my mother. She’s in the kitchen, humming away as if nothing happened.

  I lean against the doorjamb with my arms crossed over my chest. “Wanna tell me what that was all about?”

  She jumps, pretending to be startled. “Oh, Alex! I didn’t see you there!”

  Yeah, she’s not fooling me. At all. Her voice is high, the way it used to get when she’d tell me we were going out to pick up new hockey equipment. Instead she’d take me to get one of those sequinned getups for another skating competition.

  “You need to apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know.”

  “Oh, you mean about . . . that.” She waves her hand toward the ceiling. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I was looking through some old pictures. I found my favorite competition photo. You remember, don’t you? You were so close to qualifying for the Olympics.”

  She looks at me expectantly; I remember it vividly. If I wasn’t doing triple salchows, I was shooting a puck. I was always exhausted, and it sucked. I had no life.

  I continue to glare.

  Uncomfortable, my mother looks away. “Anyway, I thought I would share it with you and Violet. I suppose I should’ve knocked.”

  “Damn right you should have!”

  She tosses the dishtowel on the counter. “Don’t you take that tone with me! I didn’t expect your little girlfriend to be parading around half-naked!”

  Her implication is clear: she believes Violet is trying to take advantage of me. I don’t get it. My mother has always had her head so far up her ass when it comes to me. It’s as if I’m still a teenager, not a grown man who can make hi
s own damn decisions.

  The only reason I didn’t bone my way through high school was my complete lack of social life, thanks to balancing the damn figure skating with hockey. I was also a huge nerd, but I choose not to focus on that part. I was barely eighteen when I was drafted into the NHL. That was an eye-opener.

  I hold up my hand in warning. “Don’t start.”

  Of course my mother doesn’t heed it. She voices her opinion as usual, whether or not it’s solicited.

  “What? I’m your mother. I have a feeling about this one. Her father’s a scout, Alex! She knows exactly what you make a year. She’s used to a certain lifestyle, I’m sure, and you’re perfectly equipped to provide it.” She slaps an old magazine on the counter with the pictures of my first kiss with Violet. I don’t want my baby corrupted by some puck slut.”

  Sunny must have given her the magazine, because it’s not something my mother would typically buy. I cross the room, slapping my hands over the image.

  “Let’s get a few things straight. I’m twenty-five. Any corrupting took place years ago. Everyone on the fucking planet can find out what I make in a year. It’s not a damn secret.”

  She opens her mouth to interrupt, but I jab my finger at her.

  “Oh no you don’t. I’m not finished. Violet isn’t a puck slut, and she’s not after my money.”

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Because I am. End of discussion. You want to know why I don’t bring girlfriends home? It’s because you treat them like crap.” Her eyes grow wide. I’ve never been this upfront with her before. “I won’t stand for it. Not with Violet. I care about her, and she’s important to me. This’ll be the last time I stay here if you can’t be nice.”

  Her eyes drop, hiding her hurt. When she lifts them, anger flares. “This is the first we’ve heard of this girl from you. You can’t blame me for being worried, especially with all the press you’re getting lately.”

  “So you grill her at brunch and make her uncomfortable? How’s that helpful? I’d pack up and take Violet to a hotel, but she doesn’t want to offend you. As for me, I don’t really give a good goddamn how you feel about it.”