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

my boss was a different generation. He didn’t realize how uncomfortable his comments made me. I ignored his lingering eyes. The first few times he would grab my hand, or put his hands on my shoulders, I was so uncomfortable I felt sick.

It’s weird how quickly he wore down my boundaries. After a couple months, my shoulders didn’t feel like a violation. But the way he’d purposely reach for things on my desk, pushing his cock into me because he “needed to borrow my stapler” was the new boundary he felt comfortable crossing. That job was my dream for so long, I couldn’t admit that it had become a nightmare.

Originally, the compliments were about my job and how I was a quick learner. My impressive depth of knowledge. The potential he saw in me. At first, his attention was sort of flattering. The physical compliments started out sparsely peppered in conversations, innocently enough. I had a pretty smile. Beautiful eyes, apparently. But when the compliments became more crude and more frequent, I made it clear I wasn’t interested in that kind of attention anymore.

Nothing surprises me now that I know who he really is. His first formal work complaint against me, shocked me to my core. I was pulled into the human resources office, told to sign forms about some made-up negligence. He didn’t file that complaint directly. There were ones after that he did do himself though. After nine months of compliments turning to comments and then complaints, I quit.

“I’m not slut-shaming. I’m saying I have responsibilities, a word you’re not familiar with, I know. I have a job to perform, rent to pay, adulting to do.”

“Sounds lame.” Blaze half closes his eyes, losing interest.

“Not everyone can get drunk and high and screw around all the time. Some of us have responsibilities.” I ignore his groans. “Even if I didn’t, I still wouldn’t want to live like that.”

“What? Why not?” He’s skeptical.

“Doesn’t it get old? All the crazy partying and the endless parade of girls... don’t you get tired of living like this?” I lift up my still mostly full glass.

“It has highlights.” There’s a twinkle in his eyes. He reaches across the table, picking up the glass of white wine that Damon left behind. “Can’t let a good time go to waste, right?” He watches me as he lifts it to his lips and empties it in one gulp.

“It’s kind of lonely lately. I actually haven’t been seeing many girls since someone put a kink in my hose.” I’m glad Blaze isn’t serious most of the time. It does weird things to me.

“You’ve fucked so many girls, you don’t even know where you’ve put your dick. Your hose needed to be kinked.”

I like how surprised he looks. He’s so used to being the one that shocks me. Blaze is cocky about everything, but when he says something that makes me turn red, he’s particularly proud. It’s not like he’s standing there with his mouth hanging open. I didn’t make him blush, though it might be hard to tell with his beard. He just pauses for a second, not sure what to say.

“That’s just a stereotype. You don’t know my life,” he lies.

“I know more than you think.” I know for a fact I’m right about this. He doesn’t remember his hands on my body. His lips on mine. His cock inside me.

But I do.

“Yeah, well, you can’t believe everything you hear.”

Why does he want to convince me that his man-whore reputation isn’t earned? I’m annoyed that he’s even trying.

“What about what I see? Like, with my own eyes. Should I believe that?” I slide my fingers back and forth in front of my face, in case he forgot where the general eye-area of my head is.

“That’s low.” He leans back in his chair. Disappointment rolls off him like a cold fog.

“How is that low?”

“It’s my birthday, Prissy. Maybe you can give my viral sex video a break for one day.” He raises his voice to an annoying YouTuber volume, and people at other tables half-turn in our direction. My face heats up, and he cracks a wide smile. He’s enjoying this too much. He’s so used to having the upper hand.

“I did see that. Unfortunately. But that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What then?”

“You and I.” My throat dries up. I don’t know how to say the words. There’s a very sober and wise part of my brain trying to shut this conversation down. I should listen to that part.

“You and I what?” He frowns, but his eyebrows lift to the ceiling when he starts to understand.

“Are you saying that you and I…?”

“Yep,” I answer.

“No.”

“It’s true.”

“Really?” Blaze sits forward, leaning into me, searching my face.

“We had sex.” I say it as plainly.

“That’s not possible,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t seem so cocky now.

“Would you two like anything else, or just the bill?” Our waitress reappears beside our table.

Maybe it’s my bad date, or because it’s Blaze’s birthday, but I’m not ready to call it a night yet. “Yeah, could we get a couple of shots of tequila and another beer for each of us?”

“Absolutely,” she answers.

“Aren’t you just full of surprises.” Blaze looks like he might be reevaluating his entire life.

“Happy twenty-first,” I answer.

10

Chicken Tattoo Blaze

I thumb through familiar faces in my mind like I’m trying to make a cartoon dance through a flip book, but I have zero memories of Prissy naked. I keep waiting for her to crack, to tell me that she’s just fucking with me. She doesn’t.

“Your story doesn’t add up.” I can still feel the heat of the tequila shot down the back of my throat. Prissy didn’t even wince when she downed hers.

“My story?” She does air quotes. Who really does those?

“You don’t have to put on a grammar performance. I’m not saying ‘story’ like I don’t believe you.”

I don’t believe her.

“Well, I don’t know how I’m supposed to prove something like that.” Prissy tucks her hair