Hockey With Benefits(21)

Laid back. Funny at times. There was never any grief.

Fuck it. The most she’d do is tell me not to text her.

Me: Hey.

Mara: Hey. Sorry about the L.

Me: We’ll get ’em tomorrow.

Mara: Not trying to be mean here, but what are we doing?

I chuckled.

Me: Texting.

Mara: Why, tho?

Me: ?

Mara: Don’t mess with me.

Mara: Plz.

I frowned at that. That wasn’t like her.

Me: Ok. I was messing with you, but what’s with the plz? You okay? For real.

I hit send, and a couple seconds later, my phone came alive.

Mara calling.

Whoa.

I stood, answering it, “Hey.”

“What is this?” She sounded hella frustrated before adding, “I’m not trying to be a bitch, but I can’t play games right now. What’s your endgame with this?”

“With texting you?”

“Yes,” she bit out. “And asking if I’m okay. Like, do you actually care? For real? Or is this just some new head game because I really like what we have and if you’re starting to change the rules, just…don’t. Please.”

I was taken aback, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure what or how to respond to that. Noticing the front desk worker watching me, I said, “Hold on.”

I went outside and moved down a little from the entrance in case anyone recognized me. “Okay. For full transparency here, I just wanted to text you. I thought the worst that would happen is you’d get pissed and tell me not to do it again. As for head games, I don’t do that shit. We’ve been messing around for three months and three weeks, and I don’t know. I kinda feel that if any chick in a situation like ours who could handle a little texting would be you.”

“You want to be friends?” Her voice got a little quieter. “You want to know random things about me, that I like laundromats? Things like that?”

“Maybe texting buds? I mean, we don’t want to get too carried away.” A pause. “Laundromats, huh?”

“Fuck off.”

But she was laughing as she said it. That made me grin. Talking to girls was like walking a minefield. I wasn’t sure where to step. One wrong direction, and kaboom.

“I know your policy on personal questions, but for real–you okay? Something happen tonight?”

I was waiting, bracing, if I said the wrong thing.

She didn’t say anything, not for a few seconds and a few more. I was sweating at this point.

Finally, in a quiet tone, “You know Flynn Carrington?”

Gut check.

Red alarms blared, but I kept it restrained. “Uh. Yeah. Why?”

“I was at Alpha Mu tonight, and he saw me. Not a big deal, but Miles warned me about him when we left. Said the look he saw from him was…”

I could guess. Miles was doing her a solid, warning her about him, but all the guys knew.

I still couldn’t say the word, not for her. It was guy code, which was fucking odd in this situation.

“What’d he say?”

“He said Carrington was looking at me like a predator.”

Fuck to the no, no, no.

“What’s your plan on handling him?”

She let out a nervous sound, like an exclamation. “Hell if I know? Gavin’s already texted me, asking when I’m going back for their next party. I was planning on avoiding the frat, you know? But Gavin can lay on the pressure.”

I wasn’t liking hearing that from her, but hell if I could say anything about that.

“Miller’s going to lay it down until he’s put in his place. He’s just built that way.”

“I know. I can handle Gavin, but I’m a little worried about Carrington. And I feel stupid saying that because it was a look that someone else saw, but I know how guys are. I know how they can be.”

“No, man. Chicks are like deer. Some know exactly when a hunter’s got you in their scope. Trust that.”

“What? You’re not going to ‘fix’ this situation for me? Be a typical guy?” She was teasing or I was hoping she was teasing. There was a bite to her tone, a little bit of one.

“I’m a little worried that would violate the new amendment to our emerging treaty right now so… no?”

She laughed, carefree and I relaxed. Slightly.

“Thanks for that.”

“Yeah, no problem.” For what? I had no clue.

“It’s kinda too bad you’re four hours away.”

“Probably for the best. After our talk, I’d come over and have slow sex with you and we are not slow sex people.”

She laughed again.

That kept me smiling.

She said, “No, we aren’t. Hot, sensual, and hard sex. The best kind.”

“Right.”

Another laugh.

I was all the way scoring here. “I should let you go. Got a feeling if I don’t head back to the room, Barclay’s going to send out my own hunting party.”

“Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Can I–before your games, do you like being told ‘good luck’? What’s the proper protocol for you?”

“It’s like you know some hockey players?” I teased. “Uh, no luck, but I always like a text that says, ‘Win, asshole.’”