BLAZE: Enemies to Lovers College Hockey Romance by Eddie Cleveland (ebook reader macos .txt) 📕

“Maybe you prefer PornHub?”

“Blaze.” Her cheeks are pure fire right now. That half-crazed look in her eyes is my fuel.

“Or are you a Brazzers connoisseur?”

“Are you asking me if I watch porn?” He leans forward, lowering his voice, like we just caught him with dirty magazines.

“Blaze had a sex video.” Prissy clears her throat and drinks some wine. “It went viral. Not with me.” Her eyes open wide when she realizes how that might sound.

“I am a Warrior!” I don’t fully yell it, but it’s loud enough that we get some looks.

“I wasn’t in the video,” she over-clarifies.

“Yeah, that must be it then.” He pulls out his wallet and throws a lot of bills on the table. He’s doing a shitty job of hiding his anger now. “You ready to go?”

Prissy stands up and grabs her purse, but she seems lost. It seems like, instead of balls, it’s Becky’s spirit getting busted. I don’t like the look on her date’s face either. I stand up and grab her, pull her into me and hold her for a second. I let that surprise at being grabbed melt. I let her realize exactly what I’m doing when I kiss her. The Douche puffs up like he’s gonna do something about it, but when she relaxes into me, he can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck both of you,” he seethes and walks away. At least I think he does, because I don’t give enough of a fuck to check.

Prissy pulls back. She’s breathing a bit hard. “What was that?”

“What? Did you want to leave here with him?” Her lips twist down. “Didn’t think so. Besides, it’s good luck to kiss a hot girl on your birthday.” I shrug.

“Please tell me that line doesn’t work.” She laughs and sits back down with me at the table.

“Every. Single. Time.”

9

Dick Kazoo Priscilla

I rinse off my hands in the most impressive public bathroom I’ve ever used. I’ve eaten at a few nice restaurants before. Not on dates, but back when I was younger. Mom was big on celebrating milestones. From lost teeth to a part in the middle school musical and even when I graduated college, there hasn’t been a significant event in my life that my mother hasn’t celebrated. Usually, even in nice places like this, the bathroom situation is always a little disappointing.

This one is like a dream… if you dream about the women’s toilet. After being in here, I might start. Stall walls and a door that goes to the floor, that’s a game-changer. As a general rule, I don’t love knowing exactly how far complete strangers pull their pants down to go. These sinks have so much space between them, and the mirror over each sink is huge and well lit. A woman designed this bathroom. I’d bet any amount of money on it.

It works out that it’s such an upscale place. It makes the pep talk I’m giving my brightly lit reflection feel less silly. “His birthday doesn’t change anything. This doesn’t mean all bets are off,” I scold myself quietly. “You need to get him home. And then go home… to your home.” I ramble at myself, trying to not look like a crazy person. It’s clear I’m failing from the look on the woman’s face who just walked out from the long line of stalls. I’ve been betrayed by the exact feature I love about them. I couldn’t see if anyone was in here by looking for feet.

My eyes dart over to her. Her short, bobbed hair is silver, but she has the smile of a woman who knows she’s beautiful. Giving myself one last scowl, and my hands a shake, I grab some paper towel to dry them.

“You’re here with the tattoo guy, right? That wild one with the beard?” She looks back at me in the mirror.

“Uh, yeah.” I don’t bother explaining the situation. She has enough insight into my life.

“And you’re talking yourself out of that?” She turns and looks at me fully. “Are you insane? Did you say it’s his birthday? I would hum Happy Birthday on his dick like a kazoo. You go ahead and do you, but you are straight-up crazy if you’re in here talking yourself out of that tasty snack waiting out there.” She dries her hands and gives me a pointed look from the corner of her wrinkled eye, but she doesn’t say anything else before leaving.

She doesn’t know the whole story; I remind myself as I head back out to our table. I get to my seat just as a waitress drops off a pitcher of beer and a couple glasses. She and Blaze look like they were having a conversation, and she doesn’t seem impressed that I interrupted. I guess strangers in the bathroom aren’t the only ones who want to play his dick kazoo.

“I didn’t agree to this.” I point at the glasses that Blaze is filling up, and the waitress takes off.

He pushes one over to me. “It’s a beer. Relax.”

“Wine and beer aren’t a good mix. Besides, just because I don’t think it’s right to cancel your birthday, doesn’t mean this is going to be a crazy night. Some of us have responsibilities. We don’t all get to ride the easy train to slutsville.”

“Oh, so being a judgy slut-shamer makes you grown, huh?” He lifts his eyebrows. I cringe. I did sound pretty judgy. And slut-shamey.

Maybe my last job got to me more than I thought. I know it messed with my confidence. I literally had a pinch-me moment when Presido PR hired me straight out of Westbury. That job. In California. That was the entire dream. I knew I would have to work my way up from the assistant’s assistant, but I was thrilled to get my foot in the door.

I wanted that job so badly that I couldn’t admit when the shine started to wear off. I told myself that