Big D shook his head and mumbled about grabbing our next round, clearly displeased that I wasn’t going to share the dirty details with him. I checked my phone to see if Charlie had texted before dropping it back to the table as he walked away. I shook my own head with a chuckle before allowing myself to sink into the memory that I planned to use for shower-spanks for the rest of my life.
Big D slammed two beer bottles on the table and pulled me out of my raunchy memory before I was too far gone. I was super happy that I was sitting and that the bar was only dimly lit. My dick throbbed in my pants, and I wondered if the memories would ever fade from my mind. I thought of Charlie walking through the party with her trench tied around her waist, her panties soaking from the orgasm I’d given her. If I was lucky, I’d never forget any of it.
“So are you in love with this chick or what?” He asked gruffly, and my dirty thoughts faded completely. I gripped the longneck tightly in my hands before raising it to my lips to take a long pull. My palms were sweaty, and my stomach clenched a little at the thought of the word.
Did I like Charlie? Sure. Was I ecstatic that she told me she wanted to see me exclusively? Absolutely. Was it a punch to my ego when she stated that she wanted to keep our relationship on the down-low for the time being? A little, yes, but I sort of understood where she was coming from with her overly meddlesome friends. Was I in love with her? I mean, maybe not.
“Nah, man,” I said, and he cocked an eyebrow at me.
Silence stretched between us for a long moment, and I checked my phone once again. He chuckled and shrugged. “All right, sure, but you keep looking at that phone like it’s getting ready to suck your dick.”
My response was a roll of my eyes. If he knew what Charlie was capable of, he wouldn’t question my need to be in contact with her. She surprised me that night. I knew there were parts of her that were a little reserved, and I knew there were parts of her that we also a little naughty. Despite every foul-mouthed interaction, I’d started to associate the reserved part with her somewhere along the way.
I shot off an, “I miss you.” text as my dick throbbed in my pants.
“What’s she look like?” Big D grunted. I pulled up a picture on my phone and turned it toward him.
He wolf-whistled, and I rolled my eyes as heads turned in our direction. “Dude. Goddamn.”
My phone dinging with her response pulled a smile across my face. “I miss you, too,” it read. “I can’t wait for you to be home.”
“Yeah, man, I know,” I responded to Big D and took another long pull from the beer he dropped in front of me.
— C —
A silly grin crossed my face. It had only been a week since we started actually dating, but I found that I was more comfortable with Devon than I could have ever anticipated. His trip with the team to the Midwest couldn’t have been any more poorly timed, but we stayed in near constant contact via text message and hurried phone conversations. He was being a pretty great sport about keeping our relationship quiet for the time being. I knew it wasn’t easy for him to find time to chat with me when he was constantly surrounded by his teammates, but he always managed.
Getting Devon to agree to the secretive relationship was much easier than I thought it would be. I needed him to agree because he truly understood why I was asking it of him. I’d all but written a thesis on why my meddlesome friends were too toxic to involve in the early stages of our relationship. I wanted to make it perfectly clear that they didn’t deserve to know about our relationship and that he couldn’t tell his roommates as it would then make it’s way back to my friends. In all actuality, I was pretty sure that he was so distracted by the obscene amount of skin that I was showing that he only paid half-attention to my request before he agreed.
My stomach lurched and twisted at the memory of him pushing my hands from his chest, gathering me into his arms and kissing me with more passion than I’d experienced in all of my 25 years combined. I needed someone to talk to about this—an older perspective that would tell me that it was okay that I bounced from one insanely hot man to another in a matter of weeks. I needed a person that would tell me it was okay that I refused to tell my two best friends about the sweaty-palmed, weak-kneed, swirling stomach type of feelings that I experienced every time I saw Devon smirk at me in his devil-may-care kind of way.
Not for the first time, I mourned the fact that I didn’t have an older sister—someone like Emily that would love me but not scold me when I needed an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on. I yearned for the type of unconditional love that would make the memories of heated make outs and dramatically sexual encounters easier to deal with simply because there was someone there to talk you down from your ledge. My face heated at the memories of what transpired in that room. It was hot with a capital OH-MY-GOD, and my stomach devolved into a tangling mess of butterflies every time I thought about it. I wasn’t sure what it was about the man, but it had been a long time since I felt like I could get fully lost in someone else.
A slight ping sounding from my cellphone pulled my mind from my hybrid mix of filthy and melancholy thoughts. I fanned myself momentarily as I reached for my phone. My smile dropped when I realized the notification was for an e-mail rather than a text message from Devon.
My hands trembled as I noticed the name of the sender. As quickly as my shaking hands would allow, I unlocked the phone and tapped into my e-mail box.
To: Charlotte Richmond
From: Dr. Elizabeth Mitsos
Subject: Exciting Career Opportunity
Dear Miss Richmond,
I was thrilled to receive your e-mail last month seeking job opportunities with the Anthropology department here at the College of Charleston. You were a promising student and a phenomenal advisee, and I was so proud of you for being offered a position with the Historical Society. I’m sorry to hear that it isn’t going well for you. I understand your frustration with the Society’s current focus on the paranormal; but you must understand that even academia follows capitalistic endeavors, and the paranormal is where the money is in our city at the moment.
Due to budget constraints, we were unfortunately unable to consider you for a position within our department. The history department is considering the employment of a part-time research assistant, which you are, of course, more than qualified for. However, I recently learned of another position that you might find more intriguing and find to be a better match for your skill set.
As you are well aware, I led several research projects during my time instructing at Miami University in your hometown of Oxford. One of my former colleagues, Dr. Martin Cline, is preparing an in-depth anthropological and archaeological project concerning the indigenous peoples of the Ohio River Valley. He reached out seeking promising alumni in both fields to fulfill a year-long internship on his project. It was without hesitation that I forwarded your name and resume to Dr. Cline.
The internship is unpaid, and I understand that not every person is able to commit to such an endeavor. However, Dr. Cline was quite interested in your resume, and I think it would be a fantastic opportunity for you and your career. I implore you to consider the offer and e-mail me back as soon as possible. If you choose to interview for the position, I will forward Dr. Cline’s contact information to you at that time.
Best,
Dr. Mitsos
My heart stuttered in my chest as I allowed my phone to fall into my lap. My connection with Dr. Mitsos was always strong. It seemed that there was some form of serendipity at work when I landed in her office after declaring my major. Not only did she work at the college in my hometown, but she also genuinely seemed to care whether or not I succeeded. The woman was a phenomenal advisor and mentor, and she always pushed me to work harder than I thought possible. It was her that influenced me to apply for the job with the Historical Society. She coached me for the interview, and I wasn’t entirely convinced that she didn’t pull some strings to get me hired in the first place.
The i
nternship at Miami University would be career-altering and absolutely life-changing. The school was among the top ranks of Public Ivies in the country, and the anthropology program was lauded there. The alumnus of the program had a 30-40% rate of actually finding a career in their field post-graduation, and even I’d heard Dr. Cline’s name before. The man was an absolute legend. I couldn’t even begin to fully fathom the career advancement that the internship would afford me.
My heartbeat kicked up a notch before feeling like it stopped altogether. First and foremost, I could never afford to take a year off from work. I would never consider living with Enid again, and my father’s parents had already done more than enough to atone for their guilt of pushing me out of their lives for years. The free apartment that I sat in was evidence enough of that.
A second thought gave me pause. Devon. What I had with the man was new, but it was hot and raw, and emotional in ways that I’d never really experienced before. I wasn’t sure that where I was headed was in the direction of a long-term relationship with him, but I wasn’t sure that I wasn’t headed in that direction either. My breath hitched painfully in my chest when I realized that I really wanted to see where things would go with the sexy-as-sin hockey player.
I sighed and ran a hand down my face. How was it that life never seemed to give me things in the right time, place, or order?
Chapter 15
— C —
Dating Devon in secret wasn’t quite as easy as I expected it to be. Finding dates and times that worked with both of our schedules was difficult. Finding dates and times that we could sneak away from our friends was nearly impossible. We set dates up, but never managed to figure out how to make them happen. A total of three weeks passed since Devon and I agreed to start dating exclusively, but there always seemed to be something that was just a little more important than us actually going out.
The first time was an unexpected trip to the ER with Lindsey when she rolled her ankle on campus. The next incident was an unexpected call to the office by Ms. Gable where she told me that I would start leading ghost tours, effective immediately. The consequence for refusing was a threat of unemployment; and while I was presented with the opportunity for an internship in Ohio, there were no paid offers of employment waiting for me. I bit my lip and started my training. Our third canceled date was due to a surprise practice called by Coach Fisher. The team was inching closer to a Wild Card spot for their division in the playoffs. Coach wanted them to be sharp in their last few regular season games, lest they fuck up the opportunity they fought so valiantly for since the middle of the season.
I jokingly told Devon that we weren’t allowed to actually plan dates together just a few days before when I was forced to cancel our date to console an upset Nate over his latest failed relationship. Outside of a few heated glances exchanged secretly at games, we hadn’t actually seen each other since the clubhouse. We texted every day. We called when we could. Our schedules didn’t always mesh, and it wasn’t easy for him to be sneaky when he traveled with the team.
I hadn’t felt his lips on mine in nearly three weeks; and if not for the infrequent, yet really freaking hot, phone sex we managed to sneak in, I would’ve thought that my boyfriend was a figment of my horny imagination. When Devon texted me asking to pick me up from my downtown office for an impromptu date after work, I agreed quickly. It hurt my feelings to admit to myself, but I knew that I was feeling a little hungry for my boyfriend’s attention.
I practically skipped through the heavy glass doors when I saw Devon leaning against a streetlamp. His hands were tucked into his pockets like he was some kind of ultra-sexy, modern day James Dean, and I was salivating just a little at the sight of him. I surprised even myself when I threw myself into his arms and kissed him energetically. I started to pull back, afraid that he would feel the desperation lacing my kiss, but he dug his hands into my hair and tipped my head back. He deepened the kiss, causing shivers to race up and down my spine.
When I did finally manage to tear myself free of his embrace, I was panting ever-so-slightly. “Holy shit,” I gasped, realizing that I’d just participated in the hottest kiss of my life on a busy downtown street. For one brief and panicked moment, I wondered if Ms. Gable witnessed the exchange. Surely she would deem it appropriate to fire me for public indecency if she witnessed anything more than chaste hand holding.
The thought slipped from my hazy mind when a very smug Devon grabbed my hand. Our fingers interlocked, and a familiar tingling danced between our skin. I couldn’t keep my eyes off of his kiss-swollen lips when he began speaking to me. “Trust me when I say I’m not complaining, but what the was that for?”
I shrugged and squeezed his hand gently in my own. I wasn’t quite sure how to express exactly what I was feeling without him thinking I was crazy. It had only been three weeks since we officially started dating, but it felt like our relationship started eons ago. Sean was a waste of time, a distraction keeping me away from a man that used to only infuriate me but now gave me butterflies and warm fuzzies with each interaction.
“I missed you.” I offered simply as we continued to walk.
“Remind me to cancel on you more often then.” He laughed as he said it, but a pit formed in my stomach at his words. I wondered if my palm was sweaty in his. I couldn’t think about how much that simple joke jolted me or I knew I would overreact.
It was with great self-control that I managed to keep the interaction light as we turned onto Meeting Street. “Don’t you dare,” I warned, and he chuckled as he pulled me across the street.
The further we walked down Meeting Street, the more nervous I got. I was all about exploring, but we were getting dangerously close to both the college and downtown Charleston’s popular strip of bars. I wasn’t ashamed of the man—far from it really—but I still wasn’t ready to share him with Lindsey and Nate. Each step we took forward led us closer to the possibility of one of them accidentally seeing us and ruining the sanctuary I created with him.
I slowed my pace before pulling Devon to a stop beside me. I shuffled us to the side, and he turned toward me with a look of concern etched over his ridiculously handsome face. I couldn’t tell you what he read in my expression, but it was enough to cause him to drop my hand and caress my face gently.
“Hey, you okay, love?”
My heart stuttered in my chest, and a warmth started to grow within me. I closed my eyes briefly and took a deep breath. I tried to keep an uneasy quiver from my voice as I asked, “Where are we going?”
— D —
“We’re almost there, but it’s a surprise. Trust me?”
She hummed in the back of her throat and sighed. I kissed her gently and started to pull her along down the street. Her look of unease all but melted when I pulled her to a stop in front of an older brick building with a large pane window and a sign reading Pounce Cat Cafe + Wine Bar. She turned to me with a wide smile and gestured toward the door wildly. She was beautiful.
I laughed before saying, “Yes, Charlie, we are spending an hour surrounded by cats and wine.”
She threw her arms around my neck before rushing into the cafe. She didn’t bother to turn to see if I was following, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. The nerves I was feeling for the better part of the afternoon completely disappeared as I followed her. Our relationship wasn’t by any means typical, but I still wanted our real first date to be memorable. Clearly, Google didn’t steer me wrong when I searched frantically for date ideas that morning.
Tempering Charlie’s enthusiasm for booze and cat cuddles was an adventure in itself. Nearly fifteen minutes of our allotted hour came and went before we were settled comfortably on a sofa with glasses of wine and a purring cat stretched between us. She ran her fingers through the cat’s silky fur and turned a beaming smile toward me.
“Okay, I didn’t know we had a cat cafe,” she said breathlessly. “How in the world did you find this place?”
I couldn’t have stopped my b
eaming smile if I wanted to. “Google.” I reached down to pet the cat, and Charlie intercepted my hand. She laced her fingers with my own and pulled our hands into her lap. “I took a shot and booked it this morning,” I continued, “who doesn’t love animals and booze?”
“What would you have done if I was allergic to cats?” She asked playfully. She quirked an eyebrow in my direction.
I pulled our hands from her lap and placed a kiss on her hand. I didn’t miss the sigh that escaped her lips at the action, and I smirked in her direction. “Are you kidding? That would have been best case scenario since I probably would’ve needed to perform mouth-to-mouth to save your life. ”
She giggled, and I relished the lighthearted sound. So much of our relationship was dictated by tension and misunderstandings. The easy atmosphere of our date felt odd but refreshing in a necessary kind of way.
I studied her as a kitten joined us on the couch and curled itself against her leg. Charlie released my hand to pet the cat as she cooed over it, and my heart beat irregularly in my chest. The gentle smile on her face caused a tightening sensation somewhere in my gut. For the first time since meeting her, the feeling wasn’t entirely sexual. I realized that seeing her like that—happy and relaxed—was something I wanted to see every day for the rest of my life. I continued to study her as she cuddled the kitten close.
Hearing her quietly exclaim, “Shit!” pulled me from my spaced out reverie. She looked outright panicked, and I immediately started checking her arms for scratches. She pushed my wandering hands away from her arms.
Breakaway: A Hockey Romance Page 16