PUCKED Up (23 page)

“
I can do the math.” That’s almost as long as I’ve been playing professional hockey. “I can’t believe he never gave her a goddamn orgasm. Seriously. What the fuck is wrong with that guy, and why the hell is she in a camping trailer with him for a week? We’ve been together for like, what, three months, maybe a little more? I’ve already given her, like, fifty. She should’ve bailed on that trip and come with me.”

“
Unfortunately, it’s not all about the orgasms.”

“
Well, it should be. That’s the first thing I give myself in the morning, and the last thing I take care of at night. They’re essential. Orgasms are like breathing.” I’m panicking. I know this. I’m also sharing a lot of information I probably shouldn’t—not that this whole conversation hasn’t been an epic overshare. We should be drunk so we can forget all the crap we’ve just told each other.

“
Look, I know this is hard for you to understand. You’ve been slutting it up for a long time, but in real relationships that don’t involve bunnies, it’s about a lot more than the number of orgasms you can provide. Sex is awesome. Orgasms are awesome. Someone else providing those orgasms is the best thing ever, but that’s not the only thing that matters.”

The panic turns into full-blown hysteria. Okay. No, it doesn’t, but I’m kinda freaked out. In reality I already know this—it’s why Sunny and I hadn’t gotten past finger-fucking until this weekend. We talk a lot, about real stuff and not just hockey. But I put a lot of eggs in the orgasm basket, hoping it was going to take us to another level of seriousness.

“
I put all this energy into making Sunny feel good this weekend. No one has ever given her what I have. That has to mean something.”

“
I’m sure it does, Buck. But you also have to remember that for the past three months she’s been seeing pictures of you with hockey hookers all over social media. One weekend without media coverage doesn’t negate that. I’m sure there was more to it than a fuck-a-thon. At least I’m hoping there was. Did you act like an asshole when she left with veggie man?”

“
No.” I reconsider my answer. I might have been a bit dickish with him; only because he was being that way with me. “Maybe a little. But mostly no.”

“
Care to elaborate?”

I explain what happened with Kale and try not to leave out details or paint myself in a more favorable light. It’s hard. I feel like shit. Sunny still hasn’t responded to my text.

When I’m done, Vi exhales into the receiver. “You haven’t done anything wrong. He provoked you, and you responded. I’ll ask Charlene and maybe one of the girls at work for their opinions, because I’ll be honest, I think it’s hot when Alex gets all possessive over me. Remember that guy in my building, Melvin? The one who smells like dick cheese and two-year-old socks?”

Vi is notorious for going on tangents. “I remember him, yeah.” I have no idea what this has to do with me and Sunny and her being with her ex-boyfriend who she happened to date for four years, a detail she conveniently left out. It seems like a significant one. I kind of want to be mad at her.

“
He used to ask me to hang out all the time. Even though he wasn’t a threat, Alex always wanted to get it on in the living room when he came to my place. I think it was so Melvin could hear my MC love professions.”

“
MC?”

“
Monster cock.”

“
For Christ’s sake, Vi. I have to play hockey with this guy. How am I supposed to be able to look at him, let alone talk to him, when you tell me shit like this?”

“
I’m making a point. And you guys walk around naked in front of each other all the time, so you know what Alex’s junk looks like. It’s homoerotic, if you think about it. Anyway, I like that Alex is on the club-over-the-head, barbaric side. It’s hot. I don’t know that Sunny feels the same way I do.”

“
So you’re saying I might have fucked things up again?” I can’t win at all.

“
I don’t think you fucked up. All women are different. Sunny’s not a bunny, so the whole orgasm-a-thon, while awesome, isn’t what it’s about between you and her.”

“
This dating crap is hard.”

Violet laughs. “It sure is. Relationships aren’t a game. No one wants to get screwed around, except maybe people who like a lot of drama and want to end up on those terrible reality dating shows.”

“
I’m not playing Sunny, but now I have to wonder if she’s playing me.”

“
Because of this camping trip with the ex.” It’s not a question.

“
And she left out how long they dated. When we were talking, she made it sound like it wasn’t a big deal, but obviously it is. I want to be pissed, but I don’t know if I have the right to be.”

“
Honestly, if you weren’t pissed, I’d be concerned. If it was another girl I’d say she was playing mind games on you, but Sunny’s . . . well . . . Sunny. It’s hard to know what her motivation for leaving that out is unless you talk to her.”

“
I guarantee most of this is Lily and probably Waters.”

Vi sighs. “Maybe, but Sunny’s her own person. She can make her own choices. She has to know you’ll find out eventually, which could be the point. You need to consider that you’ve spent your entire dating life playing girls, so Sunny’s going to be wary.”

“
I never played anyone.”

“
Maybe you didn’t string the bunnies along with false promises, but you’ve perfected the art of smooth talking. You can say almost anything to a girl, and she’s going to drop her pants for you, which is honestly amazing. Your body hair is like its own ecosystem. It’s a wonder you’ve never lost anyone in there.”

“
I don’t get your obsession with my body hair.”

“
I don’t get why we have body hair in the first place. On our heads I can understand, but the rest of it seems so unnecessary.”

“
It’s protection.”

“
Maybe for you it is. I’m sure yours is made of titanium and makes you bulletproof, but for women around the world it’s yet another source of unnecessary pain. Oh, hey, I can’t believe I haven’t asked you this yet; is Sunny as granola as I thought she might be?”

“
She takes care of her business.”

“
Really? Wow. I was almost positive she was a natural girl.”

“
I don’t think anyone’s natural these days.”

“
Truth. Look, I gotta go. Alex has the Scrabble board set up, and I’m going to kick his ass.”

“
Have fun with that.” Scrabble is my least favorite game in the entire world. “Thanks for the advice and your usual overshare.”

“
No problem. I don’t know if I’m the best person to ask for advice on relationships, but I’ll help where I can. Sunny will only tell me so much. She’s smart enough to know I’ll share the important shit. Make sure you contact her every day. Even if she’s in the middle of nowhere and can’t get the message. You need to be as persistent as a yeast infection.”

“
What if that’s not enough?”

“
You can’t control other people’s feelings. All you can do is put yourself out there and hope she’s going to feel the same way.”

“
And if she doesn’t?”

“
You’ll move on. But you can do this. Relationships are scary. Especially new ones with guys who have seriously questionable reputations for being womanizers. Sometimes it’s easier to go back to what we know because it’s familiar and comfortable rather than put ourselves on the line. If you want this—if you want her—it’s you putting yourself on the line, not the other way around. Call me tomorrow if you need to; Alex has a workout scheduled at nine in the morning. I’m planning to watch him sweat while I pretend to exert myself on a recumbent bike.”

She hangs up with a screech and a giggle.

I went into this weekend with a plan to get past third base with Sunny. I succeeded. Not once did I consider the possibility that going back to her small-dicked, orgasm-challenged ex-boyfriend would feel like the safer option to her.

Robbie and Violet are right. I need to step up my game. Otherwise I might lose Sunny to Bushman Tiny Dick.

CHAPTER TWELVE

BIG BETS AND VAGUE MEMORIES

After the call with Violet, I find an all-you-can-eat buffet and gorge. Then I drive to Toronto to pick up Randy. While I’m waiting for his flight, I mess around on social media. Bushman has been tagging Sunny in pictures. She and Lily are sitting at the table in the backseat, arms around each other with big grins. There’s another one of Sunny with her face right next to Bushman’s scruffy beard, holding up a bag of those damn kale chips. I hate him and his stupid name.

I add comments to the posts on her wall, so Bushman knows I’m watching his ass. I want to message Sunny about the whole four-year thing, but I don’t want to rock an already rocky boat. None of the pictures being posted so far are a problem, but it’s just the drive there. Who knows what other shit is going to happen as the week progresses.

Randy’s all smiles and “fuck yeah, camping!” when I pick him up. I try not to let my crap mood ruin his. He reclines his seat and adjusts his baseball cap. He’s like a walking billboard for Chicago.

“
So? How was the weekend with Sunny? I figured it couldn’t have gone too bad since I only heard from you once.”

I struggle to maintain a neutral expression. “It was good.”

“
Just good? Come on, Miller, give up the details. You’ve been radio silent all weekend. Did you finally get some action or what?”

In the past we’ve traded bunny stories. When Sunny and I first started seeing each other, I may have given Randy and some of the other guys the impression I’d sealed the deal. It wasn’t like I out and out lied about it, more that I omitted the details. Vi ripped a strip off of me for that. I saw her point. While it was unheard of for me to not get action, it made sense that I wouldn’t want to paint Sunny with the bunny brush. Especially since she’s Waters’ sister, and he’d probably castrate me with his hockey stick if he found out.

He’s chopped me in the shins a couple of times in the past month when we’ve played rec after workouts. He also got me good in the kidneys. That one hurt. I was sore for a couple of days. If he knows I’m sexing with Sunny, that stick is going to be aimed directly at my balls.

The GPS pipes up and tells me to get on the 401 East. I follow the signs, avoiding an answer.

“
Miller?”

“’
Sup?”

“
You gonna answer or what?”

“
We had a good time. Let’s leave it at that.”

“
Oh, shit. You didn’t bang her? How fucking blue are your balls right now?” He pulls out his phone.

“
What are you doing?” The traffic here is nuts. People cut across lanes without even looking. There are signs everywhere and assholes going ninety in the slow lane, then cutting in, forcing everyone behind them to slam on their brakes.

He’s thumb typing, and he hasn’t shut the sound off, so I hear every annoying click. “Texting Lance.”

“
What the hell for?”

He stops typing to talk. “Because I owe him a case of beer.”

“
For what?”

“
I lost the bet.” He’s got that cocky grin going again.

“
Bet?”

“
Yeah. I bet him a case of beer you’d be able to get Sunny to ride your dick, and he bet me you’d pussy out.”

I slap his phone out of his hand, knocking it to the floor. In the process I swerve and cut into the lane next to me. A chick in a sporty BMW honks and flails her hands.

“
Dude! What’s your damage?” He goes to pick up his phone, but I crossbar him with a forearm to the neck.

“
Text Lance and I’ll leave you on the side of the highway.”

“
I won’t. Jesus, man, what’s going on with you? What happened? Did you and Sunny get into a fight? I figured you’d smooth things over like you usually do with the bunnies.”

“
Sunny’s not a bunny.” The rhyme irritates me.

“
I know that.”

I run a hand through my hair and give him the side eye. “You wanna make bets on the bunnies, you go right ahead. But don’t bring Sunny into your bullshit. She’s not some slutbag I’m trying to pull a fuck-and-chuck on.”

Randy settles back in his seat when I withdraw my arm. “I know that, man, but you know how Lance is; everything’s a game for him.”

“
You’d think it was obvious at this point that I’m serious about Sunny.”

“
Right? Who keeps seeing the same chick for three months if it isn’t about more than fucking.” Randy looks out the window and rubs at his beard. “I know I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

I don’t say anything while Randy fiddles around with the radio and finds a station he likes. He’s big into country music.