Get Inked: A Pucked Series and Clipped Wings Crossover Novella (Pucked #5.5)(23)

“Charlene wants to look at jewelry,” Darren adds.

“I think Sunny wants to come because Lily’s coming, and Violet probably wants to come because Charlene is coming,” Miller offers.

I don’t bother to mention to the rest of the guys that Violet’s asked me about nipple piercings. I have my doubts she’s serious anyway. Violet’s not one to invite pain intentionally, and I’m not willing to sacrifice her boobs. I already love them just the way they are.





Chapter 8


Girls are Whacked

LANCE




I pick up Randy and Miller—and Sunny and Lily—on Sunday morning so we can check out the designs at Inked Armor. I’m kind of f*cking annoyed. Not because I don’t like Lily and Sunny. I do. They’re great girls. Ladies. Women. Whatever. But this whole thing is supposed to be about us guys getting tattoos together to commemorate the fact that we’re part of the same damn team. What it’s not supposed to be is this big f*cking couple thing. Because that makes me super aware that I don’t fit.

And I’m not trying to be a bitchy chick about it. Everyone but me has a girl. I mean, granted, I have lots of girls I can call, and I’m sure any one of them would be more than happy to hang out with me and a bunch of my professional-hockey-playing friends for an afternoon while we check out tattoo designs at one of the top studios in the city…as long as afterwards there’s a f*ck guarantee.

Unfortunately, bunnies and girlfriends do not mix. As a general rule, bunnies aren’t interested in deep conversation—with anyone. And what they want from me sure isn’t chitchatting for several hours while surrounded by my friends in well-defined relationships.

I’ve learned from past experiences that all conversation does is give someone leverage, and I don’t need anyone holding my own shit over my head, or using it to control me.

Hanging out with my teammates and their girlfriends—or wife, in Violet’s case—isn’t something I’m typically unhappy about. It’s just that current circumstances are making me testier than usual. My ex—if I can even call her that since she never really acknowledged that it was a thing beyond f*cking—has started texting me again, and I’m having a hard time not responding, despite the fact that I’ve changed her name from Tash to DO NOT FUCKING REPLY in my contact list.

My phone keeps buzzing in the center console.

Randy picks it up, checking to see who it’s from, and frowns. “Is that who I think it is?”

“Yeah.”

“What the hell does she want?”

“To f*ck with my head some more? Who knows,” I mutter.

Lily peeks her head over Randy’s seat to get a look and sighs. “I would kick her in the vagina with my skates on for you.”

“She’ll stop messaging eventually.” When I respond. Which could be a day, a week, or a month from now, depending on how long it takes me to cave. Then I’ll get to spend an indeterminate amount of time afterwards feeling stupid for answering in the first place.

I put my phone to airplane mode so I don’t get notifications every time she sends another message. It’s still pretty early in the day, so parking isn’t too hard to find close to Inked Armor. It’s not my first time getting inked, but I like that I have a group of friends to do this with now, and that this piece will be a lot different than my other art.

Alex, Darren, Charlene, and Violet are all waiting for us down the street from the shop. Violet gives my arm a squeeze—it’s as close as she usually gets to a hug. Ever since Alex had that on-ice accident last season, and I beat the shit out of the guy responsible, Vi and I have had a new appreciation for each other.

She appreciates my penchant for retribution, and I appreciate the strength of character it takes to go through shit like that with someone and decide they’re worth the effort to stick it out.

I’ve seen more than one other teammate take that kind of hit and have their girlfriend, or fiancée, and even a wife or two decide they can’t handle the pressure. Violet might be a little crazy, but she’s got Alex’s back when it matters. She’s also a closet math nerd, like me.

Violet falls into step beside me. “Sorry we’re crashing your sausage party.”

“You’re not crashing it.”

“Yeah, we totally are. Mostly I’m here to observe and appreciate the fine art of tattooing.”

“I didn’t know you were into tattoos.”

“Well, it’s kind of erotic, right? Alex’ll have to take his shirt off and this incredibly built guy covered in tattoos is going to get all up in his space and put something permanent on his skin.” She fans her face. “So hot.”

I shake my head, because that’s not at all what getting a tattoo is like from my perspective, and only Violet could turn something that’s supposed to be cool into something pornographic. “Except he’s not actually getting a tattoo today,” I point out. “Does Waters know you’re here to ogle other guys?”

“Of course not! He thinks I’m considering getting my nipples pierced. And it’s appreciating, not ogling.”

“Jesus, Vi. You can’t talk to me about your nipples. It breaks bro code.”

She bumps my arm. “I’m not actually going to get it done.”