Crazy Pucking Love (Taking Shots) Page 7

  “Okay, time to study.” I reached across him for my textbook, my body bumping into his arm, and I told myself to ignore the firm muscles and the heat radiating off him. A quick glance at his face revealed his gaze was on my cleavage.

  I cleared my throat as I straightened, and he quickly jerked his eyes up to mine, a sheepish grin tugging at his mouth.

  “Sorry.” He reached for his book—and I noticed he had quite a pile, biology and human anatomy and physiology stacked in with the calculus—but then his phone rang. He gave it a half-hearted glance, and his eyes widened. “I need to take this.” He practically hurdled over me to get out of the booth.

  “Lissa, hey. It’s about time you called me back,” he said, and I tried not to wonder who Lissa was. And totally failed. A few more footsteps, and I couldn’t make out his words anymore.

  I made a half-hearted attempt to start on our assignment but ended up doodling on my notebook instead.

  When Dane came back a few minutes later, a grouchy version had replaced the happy one I first met tonight. “Is everything okay?” I asked, as I moved over so he could sit down.

  He sank into the booth, twisted the backward blue baseball cap so it was facing forward, and tugged the brim lower. “Let’s just get through this calc homework.”

  In other words, don’t pry, because I’m not going to tell you. So I showed him how to do the problems, explaining each step. In a little over an hour, we’d completed the assignment and had gone over the quiz he almost failed.

  Dane had written down the answers and nodded in all the right places, but I wasn’t sure anything had sunk in.

  “Okay, that’s it,” I said, slamming my textbook closed. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on, but clearly something is.”

  “I’m sorry, Megan. Maybe this was a bad id—”

  “You’re coming with me.” I shoved my books in my backpack. “This diner might be good for food and coffee and sugar packet field goal contests, but tonight we need more.” My attempt to push him out of the booth didn’t do much—getting a tall, muscular hockey player to move when he didn’t help was pretty much impossible.

  At my second big push, he gave in, grabbing his books as he stood. “Where are we going?” he asked.

  “No questions.” I extended my hand. “Just take my hand and follow me.”

  The sounds of the kitchen drifted over to us, along with the scent of fried foods and coffee, and for a second I thought he might leave me hanging.

  Then he shoved his stuff in his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and grabbed my hand.

  …

  “So the other night, when I couldn’t sleep, I looked up fun things to do in Boston,” I said after I turned my car down the road the GPS told me to. “I’ll admit that most of them sounded a bit intimidating alone, which is why I haven’t quite gotten around to checking out any of them yet, but luckily, you and I are friends now, and friends go check out places together.”

  Dane looked at me, the streetlights sending stripes of light across him in intervals. I waited for him to tell me he wasn’t in the mood to go anywhere, or that he didn’t have time for silly things like visiting Boston hot spots, and I promised myself I’d hold strong instead of getting offended. Instead, he asked, “What’s first?”

  “The one I most want to go to is closed right now, but number two on my list is Howl at the Moon Dueling Piano Bar. My mom forced me to take piano lessons when I was younger, and while I didn’t stick with it long enough to get very good, I did gain an appreciation for people who can play.”

  I pulled into the parking garage across the street from the bar. Then, because it was cold outside and I decided to leave my jacket so I wouldn’t have to hold on to it once we were inside, I made Dane practically run. I had a fake ID if I needed to flash it to get in, but I wasn’t planning to use it for drinks since I was driving.

  The second we opened the door, the music greeted us, nice and loud.

  For a random Thursday night, the place was more packed than I’d expected, most everyone out on the floor dancing and singing along as the performers on stage belted out a cover of “Shake it Off.”

  “Appropriate, since we’re here to shake it off, right?” I asked.

  Dane put his hand on my back and leaned down. “What was that?”

  I shook my head, the noise too loud to repeat it. Instead I dragged him toward the center of the floor. He tugged against me.

  “I don’t think I’m in the mood for dancing.”

  “The only way to find out for sure is to dance.” Another tug and he came with me, albeit reluctantly. “It’s gonna be all right.” After we reached the middle of the crowd, I quoted the lyrics to him like profound literature, and gradually his demeanor changed, although he was letting me do all the dancing.

  But once they changed songs, Dane bobbed his head to the beat, getting into things a bit more. When he refused to fully dance, I bumped my hip into his repeatedly, until he gave in. He rolled his eyes at my huge grin, but then one of his own broke free.

  The lights flashed green, red, and blue, and a disco ball hung in the center of the floor, sending refracted squares over the walls and people on the floor. Before long, everyone was singing along at the top of their lungs, including Dane.

  When a couple of women checked him out, I couldn’t help looping my arms around his neck.

  He gripped my hips, and his thumbs slid under the hem of my shirt, causing goose bumps to break out across my skin in spite of the stifling temperature of the crowded dance floor. I lost myself to the beat, swaying my hips even more when Dane pulled me closer. One song merged into another, and the singer called someone on stage for her birthday. Every few lyrics, the female piano player/singer added in the woman’s name, and suggested people buy her drinks.

  It sort of bonded the entire audience.

  At last call, I checked my phone, sure it couldn’t be that close to two a.m. 1:58, what do you know?

  At least Dane looked happier, although I had a feeling both of us would be dragging tomorrow. In an attempt for him to actually hear my question as I asked it, I tipped onto my toes. I wobbled and almost lost my balance, leaving me no choice but to grip his biceps—it was a tough job, but somebody had to do it. Working to ignore the flush of heat that out-blasted the heat that came along with dancing for hours, I asked, “You ready to go, or do you want to wait till they officially close?”

  “Let’s beat the rush,” he said, taking my hand. We wove through the crowd, and when we stepped outside, I gasped, the shock of going from sweltering to hurt-your-face cold a shock to my system.

  Dane rubbed his hands up and down my arms, and as we crossed the street, he wrapped an arm around my shoulders and curled me to him—like I said, tough job and all.

  In regards to the tough job of keeping only friendly feelings, it definitely hit that mark.

  As I fired up the car, “Kiss You” from One Direction came on the radio, and I automatically cranked the volume and bounced in my seat.

  “Oh, no. Math and One Direction—I’m afraid we can’t be friends anymore. Not even late-night friends.”

  “Oh, come on. It’s catchy. They should’ve played one of their songs at the bar. I better go back and request it.” I acted like I was lunging for the door, and Dane caught my arm.

  “No way. I’m cutting you off.” He went so far as to reach forward and punch off my radio.

  My mouth dropped. “You can’t just push my buttons.”

  Mischief flickered through his eyes. “Funny, because I find I rather like pushing them. Maybe I should push more.”

  The temperature in the car shot up, and I licked my lips, thinking by the time I got done with the gesture I’d have something quippy to say. I didn’t.

  Dane dazedly shook his head, like he was coming back to his senses.

  Panicked this would turn into an awkward moment and we’d undo our fun night, I said, “You shouldn’t slam One D. Harry got me through a really rou
gh time in my life. We had a thing for a while.”

  His forehead scrunched up, his expression saying he suspected I’d lost my mind.

  “What? You didn’t see it in the tabloids? You don’t buy that he strolled through Connecticut one day and saw me and just had to have me?”

  “No, I could totally believe that. I’d probably think the same thing.”

  Dozens of butterflies swarmed my stomach, some floating on wings of desire, and several coasting on hope.

  “But now I’m questioning my taste, because I’d hate to have anything in common with Harry Styles,” Dane said, spitting out the name as if it tasted disgusting on the way out.

  “I love that you pretend not to like him, but clearly know a lot about him.”

  “I have sisters, remember?”

  “Ah yes. They couldn’t pull you over to the One Direction side while they were making you a Gilmore Girls fan?”

  He ran a hand over his face and gave an exaggerated groan. “I should’ve known that would come back to haunt me.”

  Teasing him was too much fun, and I couldn’t stop there. “You and Harry kind of share a hairstyle, too.”

  He whipped his head toward me. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “Believe it.”

  Dane dove across the car and I squealed—I couldn’t help it. He found the ticklish spot on my side and took advantage. I tried to block, but it was no use. Finally I clamped both wrists in my hands.

  “Okay, I take it back,” I said, my breaths sawing in and out of my mouth.

  “You better.”

  Somewhere in the scuffle his hat had fallen off and the ends of his hair brushed my cheek. His eyes locked onto mine, he swallowed, hard. The air changed, crackling with energy.

  Slowly he sat back, his muscles tight with tension, and I wondered if we were destined to straddle this torturous line forever, only to have him hold back. But I was afraid I was already in too deep to simply walk away, even if we could only be friends.

  I straightened and reached for the gear shifter. “Guess we should get going, or the crowd will catch up to us. Is your car near the diner?”

  He nodded. “Yeah, you can just drop me off on the corner.” As I shifted the car into reverse, he reached over, put his hand on my knee, and gave it a quick squeeze. “Thanks for tonight. I never would’ve thought dancing would be any kind of solution I could get behind, but I needed that.”

  “Of course. It’s a cool spot. I’m glad I put it on the list.”

  “Me, too.” The drag of his fingers across my thigh as he took his hand away gave me that fresh-from-the-rollercoaster feel. “I think maybe we should skip the study-buddy thing and become Boston-buddy friends. I far prefer the bar to calculus.”

  “How about a mix of both?” I asked.

  “I could get behind that.” He leaned back farther in his seat, his long legs barely fitting in the space between the seat and the dash. “So, when are we going to hit your number one spot?”

  For a second, all I could think about was the aching spot between my thighs, and the need still pulsing under my skin from his touch.

  I was way more than just in deep. I was totally in over my head.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dane

  Unfortunately, when I tried to talk to Lissa, all she said was that I didn’t understand, with a side of “You can’t tell me what to do.”

  Which meant it was time for the phone call I didn’t want to have to make—the one I’d been putting off for three days. In my defense, with away games on Friday and Saturday, that meant I traveled all weekend and hadn’t had a lot of extra time, even though I’d had to sit out Friday’s game thanks to the stupid fight. Coach almost made me stay home to miss both of the Colorado College games, but I promised it’d never happen again, and he’d given in.

  So on Friday I’d been sitting helpless in the stands, exhausted from only sleeping a couple of hours the night before, but focusing every ounce of attention I had on the game. Between that and suiting up on Saturday, there hadn’t been enough solo time required to make complicated phone calls.

  I scooped my phone off my nightstand, the slim rectangle suddenly heavy in my palm, the past I was about to face off with weighing down on me.

  I’d planned on calling Thursday night after I left the diner, since finally talking to Lissa only proved she was too far gone to see reason, but Megan had dragged me to that piano bar. Which ended up being one of my most fun nights in Boston, hands down. Since dancing was involved, I could hardly believe it, but it had given me the perfect excuse to touch her.

  As far as having only friend-like feelings, I was a long way off—desire coursed through my veins as I recalled wrapping my hands around her hips and the way she swayed them back and forth, back and forth…

  There’d been occasional body brushes, too, every one producing another jolt of awareness, and it’d taken all my control to cover my attraction to her. I’d probably failed, though, because there was only so much I could do with that sexy body so close to mine. Thank goodness I’d come to my senses at the Quad before I’d done something stupid with Misty, because just dancing with Megan was better than anything I’d ever experience with anyone else.

  Even afterward in the car, what started as joking and teasing had quickly turned heated, and multiple times through the night I’d had to remind myself of all the reasons I couldn’t kiss her; couldn’t cross into more than kissing.

  Images from that night, the memory of her soft skin under my fingertips, and the sound of her laughter had followed me the past few days, and when everyone else slept on the plane rides to and from Colorado, I’d pulled them up to keep me company.

  I’m in so far over my head, the ice has sealed up, blocking any chance of ever breaking free. And while I’m already drowning, I might as well forget that I’m trying to be a better person, and that I told her brother I understood that she was off-limits…

  Honestly, I knew I was skating on thin ice when I agreed to let her be my math study buddy. I wanted an excuse to spend time with her, and it was definitely an excuse, because truth was, Ox was practically Isaac Fucking Newton when it came to math. My roommate could easily help me—I bet he’d even quiz me during and between reps in the weight room if I asked.

  But he wasn’t nearly as cute as Megan, and he didn’t smell as good, and I definitely didn’t want to kiss him. All reasons he’d also make a better study buddy. I’ve always struggled with the right decisions, though.

  Which was why I wasn’t giving up time with Megan, whether it was forcing myself to focus on her explanations about our homework instead of the way her soft lips formed words, or being “late-night friends” and exploring more of Boston together. Even if it meant I was playing with fire, daring it to burn me. She was the one bright spot in my life right now, and I desperately needed those moments with her to help me survive this semester, so I’d happily deal with a few scorch marks.

  Holding on to the happy thought of more time with Megan, I returned my attention to the task at hand. I sucked in a deep breath and tapped Jazmine’s number.

  “Long time no talk,” my ex answered, a sharp edge to her voice.

  “It’s only been a few weeks since Christmas break.”

  “I didn’t know we were counting accidental run-ins at the gas station as seeing each other. You bolted the second you could, too.”

  Apparently we were just going to ignore the incident where I found her on the couch at a party a few days later, one long blink from passed out, a couple of assholes swarming and ready to take advantage. After issuing a threat of dismemberment to anyone who touched her, I’d carried her out of there and dropped her off at home.

  Or maybe she truly didn’t remember. It wouldn’t surprise me.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and powered through, working to keep my voice calm. “I don’t want to fight, Jaz. I need to talk to you about Lissa.”

  “What about Lissa?” Defensive already. Great.
>
  Here goes nothing. “I hear she’s been hanging with you and your group of friends.”

  “What can I say? We’re a fun group, and we know how to live it up.” I could see her in my mind, twisting a coil of curly, black hair around her finger. “Remember when you used to be one of us?”

  Yeah, I did. Too often as of late, thanks to my little sister deciding she wanted to hang with the rougher crowd. Truth was, I’d done plenty of drinking and more dabbling in illegal substances than I should’ve, but kept more on the peripheral thanks to hockey and the fact that I’d rather hang with Hudson than any of the people in that group. I’d only occasionally hang out with Jaz’s friends because it meant being with her. Kept her out of several of the predicaments they found themselves in, too.

  “Look, I’m just trying to make sure she doesn’t get herself into trouble,” I said. “I don’t want her mixed up in all that shit. Especially the drugs, Jaz.”

  “Basically you’re saying you don’t want her to turn into me.”

  Yes. “I’m asking you to not drag her into it. She’s got other friends. Let her go back to them.” I hoped Lissa had had her fun walking on the supposed wild side, and that if she had a chance to go back to the people who had her best interests at heart, she’d remember who she truly was. That she wouldn’t look for an escape in all the wrong places.

  “You don’t get it both ways,” Jazmine said with a huff. “You can’t leave and still tell me what to do. I get it, you wanted out of here, and you’re out. But some of us still live here, and we’re all doing what we have to do to get by, just like you used to, remember?”

  “Well, you sure as hell took it to the next level, didn’t you?”

  “Fuck you, Dane. I’m over your disappointment, and I won’t let you make me feel bad about myself. You made your choice, so deal with it.”

  Before I could attempt to smooth over the situation, she hung up. Not like I knew how to smooth it over anyway.

  …

  In my second iffy decision of the day, I decided to call Megan. While it felt like longer, we’d seen each other a couple of days ago, and I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. I still couldn’t do the relationship thing, and if anything, talking to Jazmine only reminded me of that.