by June Winters
“Oh! Look! You even put your false tooth in for Kara.”
“Yeah, the missing tooth look tends to scare women away.”
“That's too bad. I thought you looked kinda cute without it.”
“… You're the first, then.”
“And where are you meeting Kara?”
“A club called Regret.”
I nearly spit a mouthful of wine right out. “A club called Regret?!”
“Yeah. It's an odd name, isn't it.”
“It's a very honest name for a club, if you ask me. It's right in your face. Destination? Regret.” I giggled, amused. “It's like they're telling you, 'whoever you meet here, and whatever trouble you end up in, you're gonna regret it, and you'll have no one to blame but yourself.'”
“It's a good club though. I've never had a bad time there.”
“Is there any other clubs where you like to meet girls? Club 'Bad Mistake'? Club 'Walk of Shame'?”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “Oh, ha ha.”
“I'm just kidding you.” I put my hand on his back and gave him a gentle push designed to budge him off the couch and spur him away to his one-night stand that he was going to regret. “Don't worry about me, I'll be fine.”
But Radar didn't move.
I looked at him and laughed. “You're still not moving. Are you just going to sit there and pity me all night?”
“I'm not pitying you.”
“Then what's your problem?”
“Honestly? You really want to know?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“I'd be more than happy to take you out and show you around Boston. But I don't think I should. See, you have an honesty policy you live by, but I live by the code.”
My eyes narrowed. “Code? What code?”
“The guy code, I mean.”
“The guy code! That's real? I mean, you guys actually take that seriously?”
“Us hockey players have to take it pretty seriously.”
“And how is the code stopping you right now?”
“Because you're the sister of my best friend, teammate, and roommate.”
“And so you're telling me that taking your friend's sister out to the club would be against the rules of this fabled 'guy code'? Even though you just admitted that you're meeting some random girl that you're going to fuck, and I'm just bored and along for the ride?”
Growing uncomfortable, Radar tugged at his collar. “Well—when you put it like that it sounds ridiculous, sure, but—”
“What else would it be?” I asked.
Radar's features darkened and he didn't answer.
“Oh my God, are you actually afraid that something could happen between us?” I gave his shoulder a slap. “Radar! Get your mind out of the gutter!”
“Of course I'm not thinking that,” he growled, indignant. “Because nothing ever could happen between us.”
“I agree,” I told him cheerfully, “because, no offense, but you're really not my type.”
Radar's brow creased. “Yeah? Well, you're not my type, either.”
He looked so cute and mad in that moment.
“Good! Then what's the problem?”
“It'd just look bad if I took you out, okay? I don't want to give Lance any reason to suspect us of anything, because it could blow up in my face in a bad way. That's all.”
I shrugged. “Fair enough, dude. I've been telling you to go and leave me alone for the past five minutes, but you keep sitting here arguing with me over it. I don't know what else you want me to say.”
Radar stared at me, his eyes burning like red-hot embers. I wasn't sure what was going through his mind, but I had to laugh.
And then my stomach butted in and gurgled, loudly. I cradled my tummy and waited for it to stop.
“You haven't even eaten,” he said, almost sounding annoyed by that fact.
“I ate lunch.”
He checked his watch. “Lunch was, what, nine hours ago?”
“So what. I'll order some food in. Besides, I'm sure the code says something about how wrong it is to feed starving women, too.”
Radar bolted off the couch and extended me his hand.
“C'mon. I'll take you to MacAllister's. It's a sports bar and grill, right across the harbor downtown. Hardly the kind of place you take a girl you want to impress. We can go our separate ways after.”
I didn't say a word. I just stared at his hand and smiled. I understood now that Radar was only trying to convince himself that he was justified in taking me out. He needed a reason, that was all. But did I really want to go? He had a point, after all; Lance might get pissed at us. Especially after I made him all paranoid earlier …
“Just come with me,” Radar urged. “We're obviously not going to do anything stupid. We'll grab a bite to eat, then we'll split ways. I'm going to meet a chick and we just admitted that we're not interested in each other. Lance would understand.”
“Are you sure? I don't want you to get into any trouble …”
“If your brother asks, we'll tell him the truth. We've got nothing to hide.”
“I would like to get out of the house.”
He urged me to take his hand again. “Then come with me.”
I gave him my hand. Radar pulled me from the couch, and I marveled at how my tiny hand had totally disappeared in the fighter's ridiculously rugged and knobby hands …
Chapter 10
Her Rescue
Radar
When I saw Ella sitting on that couch by herself, I knew something was wrong.
She looked ready for a night out on the town, in a stunning jade-green dress with taupe T-strap heels. But her body language, and the look on her face, told a different story—like her night had already ended.
When she told me her brother had bailed on her, my heart sank to my stomach. It's a sad thing when a girl gets herself all excited and made up and ready to go out and have a good time, only to have her plans fall apart at the last minute.
I wanted to come to her rescue the second I saw her looking so sad. But I couldn't just forget about yesterday. How I nearly did something very stupid, and came so close to getting caught by Lance.
But that couldn't happen again. Right? A single moment of weakness, that's all last night was; a bad decision fueled by alcohol.
Besides, she just told me that I wasn't her type. That kinda sucked to hear her say, but okay. And, yeah, I guess she wasn't really my type, either. She was too smart, too ambitious, too much of a challenge.
And Lance couldn't really get pissed at me if I took Ella out to MacAllister's, right? Because I obviously wasn't trying to score with Ella if I took her to a noisy sports bar and grill. And I told her that I was meeting a girl from a hook-up app. It was truly a win-win for both of us. I got to be the hero, and Ella got to be rescued, and Lance had nothing to worry about.
The smile on her face when she took my hand, and I hoisted her off the couch, made it all worth it for me. She glowed again, and she surprised me by jumping into my arms and giving me a hug. A knot in my throat tightened when she squeezed herself against me, and I felt her breasts press against my chest.
Okay, the truth was, yeah, this girl was beautiful. And her dress was really stunning, like I said. I knew I'd have to mind my manners all night and not check her out, no matter how much I was tempted. I don't mind admitting all that to myself—in fact, I think it's only healthy and fair to admit it. I can think that she's attractive without wanting or needing to act on that attraction.
We rode the elevator down and stepped outside. It was a beautiful night, the air cool and crisp, but smelling toasty and burnt in that way that only fall nights can. We took one look at the clear night sky and decided we had to take the water taxi to Boston.
“You sure you won't be cold?” I asked. “It's not too late to go back and grab a jacket.”
“It's the perfect temperature,” she said.
“It really is. But it'll be colder on the boat.”
“I'll
be fine. I'm tough.”
Her heels clicked and clacked on the pavement as we walked. She had a way of walking. I don't mean in that perfectly lady-like, princess-lesson kind of way. Her walk was unpolished, yet she moved with a natural grace all of her own. A hip-swaying swagger, with a cute wiggle in her butt.
We caught the water taxi just before it left the dock. Once on board, the two of us stood side-by-side. We clung to the railing and watched as our boat chugged through the dark waters of the harbor. The air over the water was cold, and I kept glancing over at Ella's toned arms, her athletic shoulders, expecting to find goosebumps, but they weren't there.
“Huh. You're really not cold.”
“I told you, I'm tough.”
I inched a little closer, so she could hear me better over the droning of the boat's motor and the splashing of the water.
“So tell me a little bit more about this honesty policy thing of yours. When did it start?”
“Short answer? One day, as a teenager, I realized that the world would be so much better if people didn't lie to each other. And so I vowed that I wouldn't live a life that required me to lie to anybody.”
“And what's the long answer?”
She patted my forearm. “That's a story for another day.”
“But aren't you obligated to tell me if I ask you, since you don't lie?”
She laughed. “No. Doesn't quite work like that, but nice try.”
“Oh.” I paused. “So how does it work?”
“It's just a core value of mine, you know? I try to be as honest as I can with myself and with other people. I'm not perfect, and it's harder than it sounds.”
“I bet. I wouldn't last a day.”
“First, you have to know yourself. Which, as it turns out, is one of those ancient philosophical questions that humanity has struggled to understand throughout history: who am I, really?”
Sensing a sudden gulf widening between us, I gulped. “You're really smart, Ella.”
She giggled. “No. I promise you I'm really not.”
“Ah-ha—there—you just lied.”
Shy, or flattered, she dropped her gaze to her feet. “Oh, stop it.”
“Seriously. You are. I never did well at school, but I could teach you anything you wanted to know about hockey. Besides that, I'm as dumb as rocks.”
“You're not dumb, Radar.” She smiled at me, a bright, genuine smile that warmed my heart. “… for a hockey player, that is. And you can take my word on that, because I've met Lance's other friends.”
I let out a startled laugh and gave her a probing stare. “You know, for someone who doesn't lie, you sure are sarcastic.”
“I can deal with giving up lying, but don't make me give up my sarcasm. I don't want to talk like a boring robot—” she began swaying her arms around mechanically, and talking in a robot voice, “who only spits out factual information, beep boop.”
I laughed. This chick is kind of adorably nuts.
She hooked her arm around mine and brought herself closer. “But I was only kidding, by the way, about the hockey player thing. You seem reasonably, no, perfectly intelligent.”
“… Anyone ever tell you that you've got a lot of personality?” I asked her.
“Oh, yes. They've also told me that I'm loud, that I'm too much to handle, and that I'm too demanding. That's the abridged list of my personality flaws, but I'm sure you could find more.” She smiled. “What are yours?”
“I …” I stalled.
I couldn't think of a good answer, and I quickly grew anxious. That treasure chest of mine flashed into my mind but I forced the thought away—I couldn't possibly tell her about that, and besides, what personality trait was that in the first place? 'I like to collect naughty things.' Jesus, what the hell was my problem, anyway? Was I too afraid to even look at myself? Is that what Ella meant earlier about an age-old problem?
Thankfully, Ella came to my rescue before I went too far off the deep end.
“Whoa there, Radar. Don't blow a gasket. You don't actually have to answer that.”
I tried to play it cool. “What? I'm fine.”
Ella sighed. “Screw it. You wanna know the long answer about my honesty policy?”
“If you really want to share it, sure.”
“My Dad cheated on my Mom.”
I made a horrified frown. “Yikes … sorry.”
“You don't have to apologize for him. Anyway, I was 13 when I figured it out—not because I'm some skilled detective, but because my Dad was that bad at hiding it. I was furious. I went to him and told him he'd better tell Mom first, or I would. He told me not to, that she already knew and it'd only upset her. Of course, I didn't believe him.”
“And?”
“I told her. And he was right. She knew, Ryan, she just chose to pretend like she didn't know and ignore it. When I told her, it was like I'd ripped off a painful scab of hers. All it did was make her upset, and furious, both at Dad and at me.”
I squeezed her shoulder. “Ella. That's gotta be a tough thing for a kid to go through.”
“Yeah, it was. And that's when I decided I wouldn't live a life that required me to lie—to anyone else or myself. Especially myself.”
“Lance never mentioned anything about your parents like that …”
“I'm not surprised. He needed them to stay together for his career. If they got a divorce, does he still become the hockey player he is today? Can you imagine two divorced parents trying to share custody of two kids, while also managing their day jobs and all the travel and day-to-day sacrifices they had to make for Lance?”
“You've definitely got a point.” I knew how much time and energy my parents had to invest in me for me to reach this level, after all.
The water taxi's motor slowed as we neared the pier in Boston.
“So, maybe now you can see why we're always fighting,” she said with a smile to lighten the mood. “Sorry to make things all dark and about my fucked up family history.”
“Not at all, Ella. Thanks for telling me.”
We filed off the boat and headed for MacAllister's by foot.
“But this is fun, Ryan,” she said to me as we walked. “Thanks again for taking me out. Really.”
It was the first time she'd used my real name. Not many people call me that. I don't mind being called Radar, not at all, but I always appreciated the sense of closeness that came when a friend used my real name.
“You're welcome, Ella.”
“Just don't tell Lance, right? Kidding, kidding! Hey, what do the guys on the team think of Lance's girlfriend?”
“Well, everyone gives him shit about it, because the words butt model set him off.”
She tittered. “So they've all seen her Instagram, I take it?”
“Oh, more than just seen it.” I nudged her elbow. “We all follow her on Instagram. We don't wanna miss a single pic.”
“Gross!” she squealed. “You hockey players are all such huge sleazes.”
“You got that right.”
“And you're proud of it, too?” She let out a delightfully high laugh. “Awful, you're just awful, Ryan.”
We reached MacAllister's. I held the door open for Ella, and the hustle and bustle of a rowdy Saturday night dinner crowd hit us like running face-first into a wall. The two of us were totally over-dressed for a joint like this, of course, but that was half the fun.
Chapter 11
Dinner
Radar
The duo of young hostesses lit up when they saw me enter.
“Radar!” the first one mewled.
“Welcome back, Radar!” her partner gushed.
“Girls, I want you to meet Ella Couture. She's Lance's sister, and she's visiting from out of town.”
The hostesses looked at Ella. They hadn't noticed her standing right next to me. They gave Ella polite but disinterested smiles, and then immediately stared at me again.
I looked at the crowd that was crammed into the waiting area. “So what's the
wait like tonight?” I asked.
The second girl gave a heavy glance to the first one. The first girl muttered, “well, er, let's see what we have …”
She tapped away at her monitor and then, quietly added, “oh, look at that! I just found a booth.” She whisked us past the waiting crowd and delivered us to an over-sized booth that could easily fit ten people. “Enjoy your dinner!”
I smiled at Ella. “Not bad, eh? I love the service here.”
But she looked appalled. “I can't believe they just did that! We just cut in front of that huge line, and I could feel everyone staring at us!”
“The fruits of being a pro athlete,” I said with a cocky grin. “They treat us like royalty in Boston.”
Ella wasn't impressed. “You hockey guys really are all the same.” Although she was joking, I could swear she sounded a little disappointed for real. “Anyway.”
And although I showed her my confident smirk, deep down, I felt a little strange. Naked, almost. Normally, girls absolutely ate up the special treatment I received around town … but not Ella. I guess I felt vulnerable.
Huh.
Our server swung by the table. We ordered a couple of drinks. I went with a steak and fries, and Ella ordered a grilled chicken salad.
“So, Mr. Royalty, how'd you meet this Kara girl?”
“Through an app.”
“A dating app?”
“Yeah.” I could've left it at that, but Ella's honesty policy had me in the mood to, well, be honest. “Actually, it's more of a hook-up app.”
“Wait, that's different than a dating app?”
“Well, sure. Some people use dating apps just to hook up. But a hook-up app is like, strictly for hooking up. Less drama, I guess.”
She didn't look too impressed at that, either. “I never knew that was a thing …”
“Really? You've never used Tinder or anything like that?”
“No. I've never used any apps to meet people,” Ella said.
“Oh. Wow. That's rare these days.”
“Is it?” Our drinks arrived, and Ella took a sip from her straw. “Maybe that's what I'm doing wrong, then.”
I raised a brow. “You're doing something wrong?”