Pucked Love (Pucked, #6)(50)
“He really is sweet, isn’t he?” Poppy says.
“He is,” I agree.
He’s always been big on gift giving. Mostly it’s been lingerie and sometimes more practical things, like upgrading the alarm system in my house and buying me that reading chair. But these kinds of gifts are new. And I think I like it, even though it scares me. I should be bracing myself for the possibility that he’s going to be traded at the end of the season, not holding on tighter.
“You look like you might need this.” Lily hands me a glass of champagne, which I gladly accept.
I take a small sip at first, then a much larger one since it’s so delicious, and she’s right. I do need it. This whole coming to away games with Darren isn’t new. I’ve been invited plenty of times. It’s how the dynamics have changed that’s freaking me out.
I’ve always come prepared and with a plan. Or Darren has mentioned specific lingerie or toys he’d like me to bring. This time he offered to pack the leggings and shirts he purchased and keeps at his place—in the third drawer he cleared out for me. The first and second contain all the lingerie he or I have purchased over the past two years.
I chug the rest of my champagne and head to the bathroom so I can freshen up a little and change before I start the whole makeup process. The bra and panty set are adorably perfect. If I’d brought my phone in with me I’d consider taking a selfie and sending it to Darren, but that’s not something I’ve done before, and I’m not sure if he’d appreciate it or be put off by it. Besides, I have a feeling it will be more impactful if he sees this on me in person.
When I come out of the bathroom, fully dressed in my brand new, freshly washed outfit—I know this because the clothes smell like Darren’s laundry detergent—Lily hands me another glass of champagne.
Violet and Sunny are arguing over what color eye shadow will look best on Poppy. Well, not arguing so much as holding up different color palettes and debating what will look more natural. Poppy doesn’t need to wear makeup at all, and neither does Sunny. They have those natural, flawless faces that look best with a hint of lip gloss and maybe a coat of mascara.
I don’t go crazy on the makeup, but pictures from the games often end up online, so I won’t go out with a naked face, either. While my relationship with Darren got a lot of press and questions when we first started dating—which was unnerving for a lot of reasons—it was difficult to really qualify it since physical contact in public has never been our thing. It kept everyone guessing as to what was going on.
If Darren pulls another PDA like he did this afternoon, that could change things again. So of course I want to look decent if my picture ends up splashed on hockey sites for the bunnies to rip apart.
At six we meet Alex and Violet’s parents in the hotel lobby and head to the arena. It’s a short walk, but it’s clear both Daisy and Skye have been drinking already—and possibly engaging in other activities that are legal in Canada.
The champagne has loosened me up a little, but I’m still nervous about the game. I root around in my purse for one of my mom’s candies. I’m grateful when I find several at the bottom. I pop one in my mouth and sigh as the minty flavor coats my tongue. I know it’s probably the placebo effect, but I immediately feel the tiniest bit better after a couple of sucks.
The stadium is full of blue and white jerseys, so we stick out like sore thumbs with our screaming red and black. Not that any of us gives a flying fuck. Violet figures Toronto would’ve picked Alex up—as a Canadian player—if they’d been on their game and realized what a formidable opponent he was going to be. Even with an injury he plays better than most, though he’s been a lot more cautious recently, and I see that now in a way I wouldn’t have before the conversation with Darren.
We have the kind of seats people want to shank you for. We file down our row, drinks in hand, and settle in while we wait for the teams to be announced. While the girls were in my room I’d almost forgotten about the discomfort between my thighs, but it’s back with a vengeance. Part of it comes from knowing I’m wearing those pretty panties with his name on the ass.
I reach into my purse for another one of my calming candies.
“Are you coming down with something?” Lily asks from my right.
“Huh?” I pop the candy into my mouth and try not to groan out loud as the minty taste coats my tongue for the second time in the past hour.
“Is that a cough drop?”
“No. Why? Do you need one? I might have some.” I don’t want to part with my mom’s candies.
“I’m good. It probably won’t taste great with my beer.” She clinks her can against mine, and we both take a sip.
Yeah, it’s not all that delicious when you combine mint and beer.
A few minutes later, the teams take the ice, first Toronto, then Chicago. The apprehension I’ve been holding on to all day drops from my stomach to settle lower, between my thighs, making the pervasive ache that much worse. It’s going to be a long game.
We all wave as the boys skate past, warming up before they take the bench. Violet’s knee is bouncing, and she chews on her thumbnail.
“You okay?” I ask.
She nods. “Just nervous. I want them to win.”
“Me, too.”
Alex and Darren have their heads together as they take the bench and wait for the ice to be cleaned, Darren’s hand on his shoulder. I lift my pearls to my lips as Darren glances in my direction.