by Jenna Rose
“Wait, Natalie.” I rush over to her, but she’s already out the door. I’m naked, but I don’t give a fuck. I go right out after her, drawing a bunch of cheers from the crowd.
“Natalie!” I shout over the thumping bass of the music. A girl with her tits out slaps my cock as I run. Another leaps in front of me, causing me to slip in the bubbles and land on my ass. She and her friends pile onto me, grinding their suds-covered bodies all over mine.
“Natalie!” I shout, but it’s too late; she’s already in the elevator. The last thing I see before the doors close in front of her face are tears spilling from her eyes.
7
Natalie
I cry the whole way back to campus. When I get back to my room, my throat is sore and my eyes are red from wiping away the tears. I’ve never felt more disappointed with myself in my entire life.
I’m not mad at Bobby; in fact, I’m absolutely smitten with him, which is just another reason why I’m angry at myself. But the main one is that I just cheated on Rick. Okay, maybe I didn’t really cheat on him, but it feels like I did. Normally when we go on a break, we end up getting back together, and I guess when I left the formal tonight I figured that was what would end up happening. But then Bobby-fucking-Brodeur swept in and changed all that.
“Okay, Natalie,” I say to myself as I change out of my alcohol-soaked clothes. I really should shower; I can still feel Bobby’s enormous load dripping out of me. “Go over to his room and apologize. Tell him what happened and be honest about it. Tell him it’s over and you’re sorry.”
I can do that, right? Sure. I slide into some dry clothes and quickly make my way across campus. My heart is pounding as I replay the events of the night. You let him come in you! What’s wrong with you!?
It feels wrong right now, but it felt so right in the moment. In fact, it still feels right in some part of me. I could end up pregnant with Bobby Brodeur’s kid. Me!
The formal is winding down as I enter the dining hall that’s been converted for the night and scan the crowd for Rick. I see a few of his friends but I don’t see him. Everyone’s dressed to the nines and I’m here looking like a drowned rat. I quickly make my way to Wayne and tap him on the shoulder.
“Hey, have you seen Rick?” I ask. He’s drunk and looks at me with surprise.
“Hey, Nat…yeah, no. Haven’t seen him.”
He’s lying. I can always tell when Wayne is lying. A pit forms in my stomach and I turn away from him and continue my search, but after a couple of minutes it’s obvious Rick isn’t here. I’m two steps away from heading back to his room when I hear it: the sound of his voice from somewhere behind me.
I whirl around just in time to see a door to the kitchen swing shut, and just before it closes, I see my boyfriend with a blonde in his arms, pushing her up against one of the refrigerators. The pit in my stomach flares into a ball of flames. Here I was thinking I’d just committed a terrible sin; meanwhile, my boyfriend is cheating on me because I wouldn’t put out for him.
They both jump as I barge into the kitchen.
“N—Natalie!” he stammers, pulling away from the girl, who has her panties down at her ankles. “We were just—”
“It’s fine, Rick,” I say. “I was coming here tonight to tell you that I just made a big mistake—that I sort of cheated on you and that we were over. I felt terrible about it too!”
There’s nothing more to say. I whirl on my heels and march away from him, back through the door and through the dance. Seconds later, I hear the door slam open behind me and the sound of Rick’s footsteps chasing after me.
“Hey!” he shouts. “Hey, where the fuck do you think you’re going?”
His voice is so loud that half the formal stops what they’re doing and turns their eyes on us.
“Stop!” he roars. I know I shouldn’t, but I do. I stop in the middle of the dance floor as the crowd steps away from me, forming a circle. Rick, red-faced and clearly boned up, strides right up to me like he’s about to hit me. “You cheated on me?!”
“You cheated on me!” I shriek back, pointing at the girl cowering behind him by the door. “You really want to act all innocent here?”
“I only cheated because you won’t put out for me, you bitch!”
“Bitch!?” I snap. It takes everything I have not to slap him in his smug face. Suddenly, I can’t even remember why I started dating Rick in the first place. “You know what, Rick? This is over. We’ve probably been over for a long time now. Good bye!”
That’s that. What I did was wrong, but this was a long time coming. I’m almost out the door when I hear Rick shout one last jab at me.
“Yeah, well guess what? I’ve been fucking her for months now!”
If I ever loved him, my heart would have broken. But all his admission does is make me realize just how little I feel for him. I wonder if I ever did.
The wind on campus is cool on my face. I don’t go back to my dorm; I just walk from building to building as I try to calm down. I feel lost, like a boat with no sails, drifting in the ocean with no destination.
I’m single now, have an article due Monday on a man who I hated two hours ago who I then ended up giving my virginity to. Oh, and I might have just gotten myself pregnant.
What the fuck?
8
Bobby
Keep your mind on the game, Bobby.
Ice sprays against my cheek as number-6 on the Red Wings carves hard beside me, aiming for a big hit. I scoop the puck and dodge left, causing him to whiff and sail headfirst into the boards. I five-hole Jack, their team captain, and take a hard slap shot at the goal. But my shot’s off. It clanks off the post just as the buzzer blares announcing the end of the game.
“Shit!” I curse as I slide to a stop.
“Nice shot,” Jack laughs as he skates past me.
“We still won!” I call after him. 4-1, with two of those goals being mine. On any normal day, I would have hit that shot, but today is not a normal day. Today I have one thing on my mind: Natalie.
It’s been two days since the party—two days since I’ve seen her, and they’ve been the hardest two days of my life. Even harder than the first two days in the NHL, when Coach was working me to the bone to make sure I understood that I wasn’t in college anymore—that I was in the big leagues.
I called the Daily Press, but her prick of an editor wouldn’t tell me how to get in touch with her, so I did something a little sketchy; I hired a private investigator to find her. I know, I know, it’s a little much, but what am I supposed to do? Never see her again? I have to know why she was so upset after we had sex. If I did something wrong, then I have to correct it.
After I shower and change, I check my phone and see that my PI came through; there’s a dorm name and room number in my text messages. Taking a deep breath, I head for my car and drive to campus. I have to handle this right; there’s a good chance she’s going to freak out when she sees me, but if I can explain that I’m only here to make sure she’s okay, maybe I can at least just not make things worse. Fuck, this is going to be hard.
It’s like a strange flashback when I step out of my car and walk across campus; it feels like only yesterday that I was here as a freshman, having the time of my life, big dreams of making it to the NHL swimming around in my mind. But when I reach Natalie’s dorm, all those thoughts are instantly brushed away when I see her.
There she is, looking like an angel, framed by the window of her room, her hair glowing from the light of her desk lamp. The last time I saw her, she was dressed like a professional; now she’s dressed like a college girl, in a pair of athletic shorts that barely cover her bangin’ booty, and a worn T-shirt…
…wait a minute. That’s my T-shirt!
Maybe I didn’t fuck up so bad after all. Maybe she had something else going on that upset her that wasn’t me.
I pick up a small rock and throw it at her window. It clanks off the glass and draws her attention. When her eyes meet mine, my body reacts t
he same way it did the first time I saw her. For a minute she looks surprised, then annoyed, then like she’s going to smile, but she turns away and hides her face. I wait and watch as she goes to her door. She’s coming out to see me. I meet her at the side door when she comes out.
“Bobby, what are you doing here?” Her tone is neutral. I can’t tell what she’s feeling. “Better yet, how are you here? Did Charles tell you where I live or something?”
“Yeah,” I lie. Better to break the whole private investigator thing to her after I fix whatever’s wrong. “I just had to see you, Natalie. You were so upset after last time that I had to come make sure it wasn’t something I did.”
Natalie frowns. “You came here to make sure it wasn’t you that upset me?”
“Yeah,” I reply with a smile. “I’m not as big of an asshole as you may have heard.”
There’s a look in her eyes; she believes what I’m saying, but there’s still something else going on.
“It wasn’t you, Bobby. I—it was just something going on with me.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, approaching her slowly. I know this is a delicate situation, but my cock doesn’t care. I’m growing a full bulge as I get closer and her scent fills my nose, reminding me of the best night of my life. Her curves are fucking deadly. Those shorts are doing nothing to contain that phenomenal ass of hers.
“I’m sure, Bobby,” she says. For some reason, I expect her to back away. Even though we haven’t been official or anything, this feels like a breakup conversation.
“So then what is it?” I ask. I slide my hands around her waist. She shifts like she’s going to pull away but doesn’t. She’s so soft. This girl has me tripping all over myself. Never in my life have I gone out of my way like this for a girl, especially one I hardly know. But Natalie is different; I want to know everything about her. I want to share myself with her. Normally I’m a very guarded man, but with Natalie, I want to open up completely.
“I—I really don’t want to talk about it, Bobby.”
“Okay,” I reply. “So can I see you again?”
She twists her lips in thought. “I don’t know.”
“What are you afraid of?” I ask her. “You know, I’m not normally like this with girls.”
“Oh, so that’s supposed to make me feel special?”
Wrong thing to say.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I tell her. “I just want you to know how I feel about you.”
“You barely know me, Bobby.”
“That’s what makes me trust it,” I reply, gazing deep into her eyes, eyes I could wake up to every morning. “I don’t know you, but my heart doesn’t care. I want to know you, Natalie.”
She’s breaking; her walls are giving in. I’m almost there.
“I want you more than I want the Stanley Cup.” I smirk. Finally, Natalie laughs. Her face lights up and I pull her close to me. Her body is warm and soft against mine. I kiss her on the forehead and she looks up to me. Our lips are just about to meet when a man’s voice rings out.
“Natalie, what the fuck!?”
I turn my head to see a tall, red-faced dickhead in a lime-green polo shirt striding toward us. My mind instantly puts the pieces together—Natalie upset after we had sex, her leaving and not wanting to tell me why; this is her boyfriend.
“Rick, what are you doing!?” she blurts out. Yup. Boyfriend all right. I let go of her; it feels like I’ve just been stabbed in the chest with a fucking dagger. I should have seen this coming. I don’t know why I didn’t. Maybe it’s because I thought that there was no way a college girl who was a virgin could have a boyfriend. Or maybe I just didn’t want to even entertain the possibility.
“Who the fuck is this guy—” Rick stops when he recognizes me, then glares at Natalie. “Bobby-fucking-Brodeur? Your assignment? You’re fucking your assignment? Wow, so professional, Nat.”
“I’m gonna go,” I say. I’m not the kind of guy who backs away from a fight, but I’m not about to fight over a liar and a cheater.
“No, wait, Bobby!”
“Yeah, get the fuck out of here, man!” Rick-the-Dick calls after me. If this was back in my college days, I’d break his nose for talking like that.
“I’m out of here,” I say over my shoulder.
“Wait, Bobby! We’re not together!” she shouts, but I’m not buying it. This girl’s shady; she wouldn’t tell me why she was upset and now she’s telling me the guy she cheated on isn’t even her boyfriend? Yeah, fuck this. I can’t believe I got suckered like that.
Natalie keeps shouting at me as I walk away. I glance back once and see Rick standing in front of her trying to talk to her. I feel a flare of anger at him for getting that close to her, and part of me wants to go back and knock him on his ass, but I’m not putting in anymore effort for her. In fact, I’m not putting in any effort again.
I’m a fucking NHL star. Girls all over the world want to fuck me. Guys all over the world want to be me. Why would I throw that away for monogamy that’s only gonna end up in some girl cheating on me? No, fuck that. I’m just gonna do me.
9
Bobby
One week later…
“So, are we on for tonight? Or are you gonna stand me up again?”
I look up from my phone at Emily, the Victoria’s Secret model who slid into my DMs on Monday. I told her we’d get together on Wednesday, but when it came down to actually getting in the car to go meet her, I couldn’t do it. Despite my best attempts to get Natalie out of my head, I haven’t been able to. But tonight I’m gonna fix all that. Like ripping off a Band-Aid, I’m gonna go balls deep in this girl and forget about the biggest mistake of my life.
“We’re on,” I tell her. Her face lights up; she’s about 6 feet tall and stick thin. She kills it in the magazines and on the runway, but her curves are nothing compared to Natalie’s. Maybe that’s why I chose her; to get as far away from Natalie as I can.
“Good.” She smiles.
“But why don’t we skip going downtown?” I suggest. “Just come back to my place. I’ve got a whole bar setup.”
“Your place?” she asks suggestively. “You hockey boys do move fast.”
“What do you know about hockey boys?” I ask.
“Don’t worry, stud,” she giggles. “You’ll be my first.”
Emily leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek. I can feel her lipstick stick to my skin. She glances over her shoulder as she walks away, strutting her stuff like she’s on the runway in Milan. As I get in the car and head home, I realize that I’m actually nervous about tonight. It seems insane; I’ve gone through this routine a thousand times. What the hell is my problem?
I head home and go up to the apartment to get things ready. I still have a couple of hours before Emily shows up, so I hit the couch and turn on Netflix. As I’m scrolling around for something to watch, my phone dings; it’s a text from Wayne.
Dude, have you read the article?
I’m about to text, “What article?” when I realize what he’s talking about.
No. Link? I respond.
Two seconds later, Wayne texts me a link to Natalie’s article in the BU Daily Press. I’m not even sure I want to click on it. I wasn’t even sure she was going to write it and tried to forget about the whole thing. But I guess she went through with it.
“This is gonna be rough,” I say out loud as I click the link. I’m shocked when I see the title.
Bobby Brodeur—World’s biggest playboy? Or misunderstood sweetheart?
I’m sure you all know Bobby Brodeur. You’ve seen him dancing on the ice, scoring goals for the Boston Bruins, or maybe you know him from college where he was the big man on campus throwing parties that have gone down in campus legend.
Or maybe you’ve just heard of him and are proud to be from the same school as a world class athlete? Or maybe, like many people including myself, you got the wrong impression from the start.
Bobby Brodeur is a jock—no question about it. H
e’s a ladies’ man, a romancer, a guy that most guys would kill to be. When my editor gave me this assignment—to get an interview with a man who never gives interviews—I didn’t want to do it. In fact, I was adamant. But Charles is a tough boss, and he wasn’t letting me off the hook.
I tried to interview him after his 4-0 victory against the Flyers (Bobby having scored three of those points himself), but he wasn’t having it. He said he’d talk to me, but only on one condition; I had to go to the Revere for one of his parties.
No way, I thought! This good-looking hockey stud just wants to seduce me! That’s what I was thinking. We’ve all seen reports online and in the news of Bobby’s conquests, and I was sure he just wanted me to be another one. I won’t even go into what happened that night, but let’s just say that my opinion of Bobby Brodeur was changed forever.
As a journalist, it’s my job to remain professional and objective. But I let my own feelings get in the way of the real story. I never got my interview with Bobby. I let my editor down and I failed in my assignment. But at the same time, I think I learned something about the Bruins star that most people don’t know: Bobby Brodeur has a heart. A big one.
And, Bobby, if you are reading this—I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the way I conducted myself, I’m sorry for what happened and I hope that you will forgive me.
-Natalie Hitchens
I hurl my phone across the room. It hits the wall and I hear the screen shatter. Outbursts like this never happen to me. I’m a controlled guy; I handle my emotions well. But when it comes to Natalie, everything is different.
“Fuck…” I growl under my breath as I think back to when I walked away from her on campus. Has this whole thing been a huge misunderstanding? How would that be possible though? I saw her fucking boyfriend right there. Why would he walk over to her and lie like that? Just to piss me off.