Pucked: Pucked Over Part 8

I hold onto Tash's ankle and tug. Her heel slips free, and her elbow comes up fast. I don't have enough time to react. She connects with my nose.

"Ah, f.u.c.k!" I grunt and fold forward.

"Oh, s.h.i.+t!" Off balance from the unexpected freedom, Tash stumbles into me, her drink splas.h.i.+ng on my shoe.

I'd like to care, but my face is throbbing, and my eyes are watering, so the drink isn't nearly the issue it would be otherwise.

"Are you okay?" Tash takes my gla.s.s and sets it on the deck.

I'm surprised I was still holding it. All I can do is make a groaning sound.

"Do you have words?" She takes my face in her hands. "Randy?"

This time more than noise comes out. "Fuuuuuuuuuck."

"I'm so sorry."

I straighten and try to shake it off. "I'm dying."

She laughs, but man, an uppercut to the nose hurts.

"Hey, guys-" Lance's voice permeates the haze of pain. I turn to look at him, processing his confusion as it turns quickly to anger, which he aims at Tash. "The f.u.c.k is going on?"

All of the sudden it's quiet on the deck.

Tash rolls her eyes. "Calm yourself, Lance."

He points a hand in my direction. "Why are you all up on Ballistic?"

"I banged him."

Lance seems more upset by this revelation than necessary. "You what? When?"

"Like two seconds ago," Tash replies.

"How's that possible?" He looks from me to her. "You make a pit stop in a bathroom before you came out here?"

"What?" Tash looks confused.

"Huh?" All I want is to lie down with an icepack on my face. These people are crazy.

"You're a real piece of work, Tash. I can't leave you alone for five minutes without you jumping someone."

Tash's eyes go wide, and her mouth drops. Her hand rises in smack mode.

I get in front of her before she can follow through with the b.i.t.c.h slap, which Lance may actually deserve. "That's not what she meant by banged," I tell him. "She elbowed me in the nose, by accident."

"What?" Lance grabs the back of his neck.

Tash shakes her head. "I knew this was a bad idea."

She pushes past him and goes back inside.

"f.u.c.k. s.h.i.+t. Tash, wait." He goes after her.

Well, I guess Miller called it. There's definitely something going on there. Or was.

Chapter 8.

What's Up with Bathrooms?

LILY.

This creepy dude named Kirk won't leave me alone. I don't know where Sunny went. Or Miller. I scan the crowd again as he goes on and on about how amazing he is. He's old, or older anyway. He's got a few gray hairs at his temples and some creases around his eyes. I think he might be balding, but I can't be sure because I'm a lot shorter than he is. I'd put him in his mid-thirties. But he's not wearing a wedding ring, so I could be wrong about that, too.

Right about now I'd glom onto Momma Two if it meant I could lose this guy. Commotion on the deck pulls my already divided attention away from his monologue. Randy's standing outside the French doors. Oh, G.o.d. He looks so, so good. He's wearing black pants and a dark b.u.t.ton-down s.h.i.+rt. It's blue-almost the same color as my dress. We match, and we didn't even plan it.

Then there's this tall, incredibly built, very pretty woman with her hands on his face. She looks concerned. He looks-other than hot-intense. His hand is on her shoulder, and they're close-talking.

I get that feeling-the same one I get when I make a mistake in compet.i.tion. My whole body heats up and cools down at the same time. My stomach knots.

"I'm sorry." I turn to Kirk, who's still talking. "You'll have to excuse me."

I don't wait for his response. I turn toward the house. Fortunately, I don't have to pa.s.s Randy on the way inside since there's another door. I enter through the kitchen and run into Sunny.

"There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere." she exclaims.

Miller's leaning against the counter, stuffing appetizers into his mouth. He's got a satisfied look on his face. I bet they disappeared somewhere to get it on. They've been doing that all day.

"Isn't Randy here yet?" Miller pulls his phone from his back pocket and checks his messages. "Says he got here, like, ten minutes ago."

"Yeah, but he's with some girl." I try to sound like it doesn't matter, even though it feels like someone kicked me in the magic marble.

"What?" Miller's eyes narrow.

The girl Randy was with on the deck comes storming through the house.

I point. "That's her."

"Tash?" Now Miller looks baffled.

"I don't know what her name is, but they had their hands all over each other." I swirl my drink.

"That's the team's trainer," Sunny says.

A hockey player I recognize-his name is Lance, I think-is right on her heels, calling after her.

"I think maybe there's a misunderstanding, because if anyone's with Tash, it's Lance, not Randy."

Sunny nods. "Totally. Randy's all about you these days."

Miller gives her the eye.

"Isn't that what you said earlier?" She twists her hair around her finger.

"Hey, b.a.l.l.s," Miller's gaze lifts over my head.

"Hey."

His deep voice makes my insides liquid, but not Ebola liquid, s.e.xy liquid. I can practically feel his body heat behind me. Okay, that's not true, but he runs a finger from the nape of my neck all the way to the base of my spine, and I can definitely feel that. My body tightens with antic.i.p.ation. All the blood seems to get sucked straight into my c.l.i.t. Just from his finger. I don't get it. Now all I want to do is jump him, even though less than five minutes ago some other girl was touching him.

I take a deep breath and turn. His hair is pulled back in that pony nub he's got going on. Usually I think man buns are stupid. For some reason on him it's s.e.xy.

"Hey, Lily. Not gonna run away from me this time?" His lip curves up in a half-smile.

His beard is so perfect. Just like the rest of him. I want to run my fingers through it. Stroke it. Him. I also might want to ride his face. Again. Jesus. What's wrong with me? I realize I'm staring, and he's made a snarky comment. I open my mouth, and all that comes out is a sigh.

His grin gets bigger. c.o.c.ky pucker. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

I take a hefty sip of my drink. It's strong, whatever it is. I turn my head and cough. When I look back again, I'm slightly more composed. "I don't see the point since you'll probably follow me anyway."

"There's a good chance." He skims my shoulder with a fingertip. "This is pretty."

"Thanks." The tags are still attached to this dress. They're tucked inside, and the little plastic thing is poking me in the armpit. It cost more than a hundred dollars. I can't afford to keep it, so my plan is to wear it tonight, have it dry cleaned, and return it to the store on Monday. It's dishonest and underhanded, but I wanted to look nice tonight. The last formal-ish dress I bought was for my prom, and that was years ago.

We stand and stare at each other for a while longer, saying nothing. I wish I would have hugged him right away or something, but it seems awkward now. All the messages we've been sending back and forth over the past week make my skin hot. It's so much easier to flirt and threaten s.e.xting when I don't have to look at his face.

"So what's going on with Tash and Lance?" Miller asks.

"Who knows. They're acting all weird. I'm not sure what the deal is, but Tash elbowed me in the face, and Lance misunderstood, and now they're p.i.s.sed at each other."

"Are you okay?" Sunny asks, seeming genuinely concerned.

"It's fine, just kinda hurt for a few minutes. Thanks for asking." Randy directs his grin at me.

Miller takes a swig of his beer and shakes his head. "I still don't get why she'd be interested in him. He puts his d.i.c.k everywhere."

"You used to put your d.i.c.k everywhere," Sunny pipes up. She's not angry, just honest.

"I was never that bad."

Randy lifts an eyebrow. Sunny does the same.

"Seriously. I wasn't that bad."

Sunny pats him on the cheek, then replaces her hand with her lips. "It's okay, Miller. I'm just saying, I still gave you a chance even though you were s.l.u.tty, and look how well that's turned out? People change, or at least the things they want can change."

Miller kisses her fingertips. "I had to work real hard to convince you I was serious about you, sweets."

Sunny bats her lashes. "You did such a good job, too."

Randy makes a gagging noise. "You two are worse than a chick flick. You need to take that s.h.i.+t somewhere else."

"They've been taking it somewhere else all d.a.m.n day," I mutter into my gla.s.s.

Miller and Sunny break apart. "We have not!" Sunny's voice is high, the way it gets when she's lying, or embarra.s.sed.

"It's okay, sweets. Don't feel bad about wanting a piece of this." Miller motions to himself, more specifically his crotch.

"I'll be back in a minute. I need the ladies room." I set my gla.s.s on the counter and turn to Randy. "Keep an eye on these two; they keep disappearing."

"And that's a problem why?"

I roll my eyes and head for the bathroom. I need to gather myself. I don't like how territorial I feel about Randy, and we haven't even slept together. I remind myself that this isn't going to be serious. He lives in Chicago. I live in Canada. We're having some fun. I need a break from serious anyway. I deserve this, and I can totally handle it.

I lock myself inside the bathroom, surprised and a little disappointed that Randy didn't follow me this time. I turn on the tap while I do my business, then check my reflection in the mirror. Violet and Charlene had their way with my face. I didn't let them do much, but I'm wearing mascara and eye shadow. I drew the line at lipstick and made do with gloss.

I pull out a package of wipes from my purse and tear it open. It smells like mint and cuc.u.mber. Violet gave them to me today and told me to thank her later. I drop my panties, which are edged in lace, and give myself a little rubdown. I want to be prepared for whatever happens, or doesn't, tonight. The mint makes everything tingle.

I toss the wipe in the garbage, wash my hands, fix my hair again, and open the door.

"Took you long enough." Randy steps inside and locks us in.

"What's with you and bathrooms?" I back up until I hit the wall.

He steps in close. "What's with you and always running away from me?"

"I wasn't running. I had to use the bathroom." If I could dig my nails into the plaster behind me, I would. As it is I'm fighting the urge to run my hands over his very hard, very big body. If I arch my back at all, parts of me will touch parts of him.

"I think maybe you were looking for a reason to make me follow you." He braces his forearm against the wall beside my head. His s.h.i.+rt stretches tight over his bicep. G.o.d, he's ripped.

"So what if I was?"

"Is that an admission?"

"You've been s.e.xting me all week; what do you need an admission for?" I slide my hands behind my a.s.s so I don't do something stupid, like grab his face and ram my tongue down his throat. Again.

His knee rests against my thighs, looking to get between them. If he does, I'm guaranteed to start dry-humping. I hold them tight together. If he gets in there, I lose this game. I'd really like to be able to control myself until we can make it to a location that isn't a bathroom.

"You're the one sending all the racy pictures." His eyes drop to my mouth.