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

“It’s fine. There’s an ATM in the lobby. We’ll go get the cash.”

“He’s not going anywhere until my girl gets paid.” The bouncer behind the desk stands up like he’s giving me a visual reminder of what I’m up against. I’d have a better chance against a polar bear.

The girl on the desk twirls her long, blonde hair around her finger, bored.

“Alright, I’ll go alone.” I put my hands up, backing toward the door. “I’ll be right back. I promise,” I say to Rookie.

I try to get to the bank machine by the front entrance as quickly as possible. I’m not running, but I am rushing. Of course, when I get to it there’s a line of guys draining their life savings for booze and skin. One by one, they push their cards in with shaky hands and pray to the ATM gods to grant them just one more dance. Just one more drink.

Finally, the last guy in front of me stumbles off, and I take out three hundred off my credit card. It probably feels like forever to Rookie by the time I make it back to the interrogation room. I expect to turn the corner and see him blubbering in front of the bouncer and dancer, but it’s just him. Blubbering alone.

“Where is everyone?” I step in cautiously like it’s some kind of trap.

“I don’t know, man. They left right after you did,” he answers, wiping his eyes.

I have half a mind to grab Rookie and bounce, but the idea of getting my ass kicked or arrested keeps me in place.

“Listen, Rookie, I never should have brought you here before. I was an idiot. Living fast and loose is a rush, but it makes your whole life a blur. Next thing you know, years go by, and you’ve got nothing to show for it but a bunch of nights you don’t remember and mistakes you can’t forget.

“I’m such an idiot,” Rookie sniffles.

“I know a thing or two about being an idiot, trust me, you’re fine. No one even knows this happened, and they don’t need to. I’m not gonna say anything to the guys. Just pay me back when you can and learn something from this.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“Awww, isn’t it sweet that you two have worked out a payment plan.” The blonde-haired dancer walks back in the room. She holds her hand out at me. “Pay me now.”

“Fine. Here’s your cash.” I pull out my wallet and scoop out the fat wad of bills.

“There he is. Pay up.” the bouncer walks back in the room, and I can’t see who he’s talking to until he moves away from the door.

Prissy.

“This was your emergency?” She blinks at me in disbelief.

Shit.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” I start to explain.

“I don’t have all night. I danced my ass off. You still owe me three-hundred bucks. Pay up.” The blonde opens and closes her hand in front of my face.

“Three hundred!” Prissy gasps.

“You owe me a hundred bucks lady,” the bouncer who sold me out interrupts.

“You haven’t changed at all.” Prissy can’t look at me. Disgust is etched onto her face as she pulls money out of her purse and hands it off to the bouncer.

“This isn’t for me. It’s for Rookie.” I clutch the handful of money I withdrew from the ATM.

“He already paid. Now it’s your turn,” the stripper interrupts.

“Yeah, sounds like it.” Prissy’s voice is flat.

“Prissy will you just…”

“Shut up, Blaze. I don’t want to listen to any more of your lies. I can’t believe I ever thought you could be better than this. Guys like you don’t change. Why would you?”

“Give. Me. My. Fucking. Money!” The woman who bamboozled Rookie out of close to five-hundred bucks yells in my face. I hand it over to her just to shut her up.

Prissy turns and disappears out the door, but I don’t try to stop her. She came in here believing the worst, so I’m done trying to give her my best.

27

Something to Prove Priscilla

I rest my coffee and bag of Skittles on the counter while I struggle to get my debit card out. Overpriced airport convenience food is not exactly the breakfast of champions. It looks like it might be a breakfast favorite for frazzled, exhausted and angry travelers though.

So, I fit right in.

I punch my bank pin in and rip the edge of the candy bag open with my teeth while I wait for the machine to do its thing. Dumping Skittles in my mouth, I chase it down with a huge gulp of coffee. I swish it around like mouthwash before swallowing it all down. The guy behind the register looks at me like I’ve personally pained him.

“Don’t forget your card.” He points. I was going to. I completely forgot it was even stuck in the debit machine.

“Thanks,” I speak around the candies that sort of welded my top and bottom teeth together.

How many times a day does he have to remind people to take their cards? The only thing more depressing than travelling in airports must be working in them. The endless churn of distracted, rude and hurried strangers must wear down a person’s soul.

I wash down another handful of Skittles with burnt coffee, and not because I love the disgusting flavor combination. Caffeine and sugar are the only chance I have to jolt my brain back to life. I know I did sleep last night, but I don’t feel like it. Every single time I would start to drift off, my brain would play a dirty trick on me. I’d swear I heard my phone ding with a text message so I’d jolt for my phone, only to see a whole lot of nothing.

After the strip club, I thought Blaze might text or call or come to my house. Why did I think he’d be sorry? Why did I expect him to have any remorse? I spent my entire drive home waiting for a call that never