Hooked: A Hockey Romance Page 3

  “We have an entire year to freak out about graduating. It can take a backseat for a few months.”

  “I give it six weeks tops before you’re having a mental break.”

  “Thanks for being so generous,” Layla laughed, rolling to pull a pillow over her head. The light was really starting to irritate her, but she was too lazy to get up again. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

  “Work, sadly.” Emma yawned on the other end, triggering one in Layla that was so big it made her jaw hurt. “Jesus, are you alive over there?”

  “Unfortunately,” she murmured into her pillow.

  “Okay, my emo princess. I’m off at four tomorrow if you want to come over.”

  They made half-assed plans to get together and said goodnight. The time reflecting on her screen made Layla cringe and yawn all at once. So attractive. At least she was the only one around to observe her one am post work look. Totally haggard. The worst part was she wasn’t even interested in showering, just sleeping. Somehow managing to crawl out of bed to hit the light, she flopped back in bed with a sigh.

  One week down, fourteen to go.

  He was waiting for her.

  Shut up. He so isn’t. Just like last week, he was sitting there tapping his foot while he scrolled through his phone. Layla gripped her iced coffee – the vice she couldn’t stop, despite the price – and made as much noise as she could as she sat down at the table. Usually she kept her earbuds in until Jackie waltzed into the room, but something nagged at her until she yanked them out. She felt his eyes on her while she wrapped them and jammed them in her bag and started to pull out her supplies for the class.

  “Are you okay?”

  She looked up and scowled. God, she hated being this type of person. Honestly, Layla was friendly. She thought of herself that way at least. There was something about Tyson that brought out the iciest parts of her, and she’d only known him a week. It was his smile that got her that first day. He intrigued her, which was annoying. Layla hadn’t quite yet sworn off men, but she’d sworn off unavailable men and Tyson looked like the type of guy she avoided. An athlete – she didn’t have proof but the hockey shirt he wore last class was good evidence – in his senior year, nonetheless. Not the type of guy for her, even for a casual fling. Yet there she was, thinking about him after class. Thinking about him during class.

  It all went back to his smile.

  He wasn’t smiling now, though. His shaggy brown hair dipped over his brows, drawing her attention to his milky chocolate eyes wrinkled with concern. There was something about the way he chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes glued to her face like he was trying to figure her out, that made her want to melt into him. Of course, that only annoyed her more.

  She took a long sip of her coffee and forced a smile. “I’m fine.”

  He searched her face a little longer, the probe feeling far more intense and person than it probably should have, before he leaned back in his chair and the lines on his face loosened. It was a bad idea to track his movements, to look at him the way he looked at her.

  What could Layla say; she was a glutton for punishment.

  He was handsome in a way that usually made her turn the other way. Conventionally so, with a sharp jaw and perfectly sculpted features. The crooked bump on his nose was the only quirk on his face and somehow it only made him hotter. Typically Layla went for the tall, dark and mysterious types. Tyson was tall, alright, but he was far from dark and mysterious.

  “You sure? You’re doing a lot of damage to that cup,” He commented. His easy smile slipped back into place.

  She released the plastic cup and slid it to the other side of her bag. Out of sight, out of mind. “I’m sure.”

  “I kept waiting for you to show up Friday,” He said, the smile morphing into a smirk. He leaned back farther in his chair. How the hell was it not tipping over? “You made me drink all by myself.”

  Taking out her earbuds was a bad move. Moving her cup even worse, maybe. Now all she had to occupy her time was actually talking to him. Sure, she could ignore him. Even without knowing him, Layla could tell Tyson was persistent. He’d annoy her like a pesky little fly until she gave him the attention he wanted.

  Giving in because it’s such a hardship to look at him, she raised an eyebrow. “I doubt you were by yourself in the corner. Besides, didn’t Heath say something about a pong tournament?”

  “So you were paying attention.”

  “Like ignoring you two is easy,” she grumbled, looking down so he didn’t see the pink that threatened to inch its way up her chest like a vine.

  He circled back the conversation, digging in deeper. “Really, though, I kept waiting for you to show up.”

  “The flattery is unnecessary. Besides, I told you I was busy. I had to work.”

  “It’s not flattery –”

  Noise burst into the room in form of Heath, dragging a longboard in behind him. His eyes flicked back and forth between Tyson and Layla before he grinned. She waited for him to say something about how close they were sitting – as soon as the noticed the proximity, she scooted away – but instead he deposited his board near the wall.

  “Every single day you’ve left me back at the house. How hard is it for a guy to get a ride?”

  “You have your own car,” Tyson said absently, his eyes still on Layla. He looked like he wanted to say something else. She waited, annoyingly aware that her breath was held in her chest like she was twelve.

  With his perfect timing, Heath finally sat down. He whined, “I don’t want to pay for a parking pass.”

  “Yeah, well I don’t want to stick around campus until four when my last class is at eleven.”

  “What a fascinating lover’s quarrel,” Pete said from across the table.

  Layla snorted and looked over at him. “Isn’t it? I feel like a third wheel.”

  “Yeah, how do you think I feel?” He responded dryly, eyes dipping back down to his phone.

  “You guys are real comedians,” Heath scowled, fingers thrumming on the table. “I’m serious. Those passes are fuckin’ expensive. I don’t want to pay for one.”

  “Neither do I, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to mooch rides off someone else,” Layla said.

  “It’s not mooching when he’s my roommate.”

  “I think it is?”

  “Tell her you love driving me around,” Heath demanded, turning to Tyson. A humorous tint gleamed in his eyes.

  “Absolutely love it, man,” Tyson said, fake grin plastered on. He either missed the memo that Heath was fucking with him or was getting genuinely annoyed. “That’s why I always leave without you. I just love driving you around too much. Love it more than hockey and my mom combined.”

  Ahah! She was too bummed out to get smug. He was a hockey player. It wasn’t like she didn’t date athletes. You’re not dating Tyson at all. Calm it down, Layla. Frowning, she grasped at anything around her to look busy. She finished the last of her precious coffee with a desperation that was honestly pathetic. What the hell was wrong with her? She needed an afternoon with her favorite battery operated boyfriend to knock some sense into her.

  Thinking of touching her body made her think of touching Tyson’s body, though, and the warmth that flooded her core at the dirty movie that started behind her eyes was definitely unwanted. Especially when he was sitting right next to her. Squirming to adjust only put a little pressure on her denim. She nearly moaned out loud.

  Pathetic with a capital ‘P’. That’s what she was.

  Layla couldn’t find it in her to care at this point, anyway. It felt too damn good. Her mind was creating the best porno flick of her and Tyson together. She thought through the logistics of running to the nearest bathroom to rub one out. Jackie was late anyway. She couldn’t fault Layla for needing to use the bathroom in her absence. The thought of touching herself in a public space only made her sex clench tighter.

  Fuck it. She was going to do it. There was no way she was going to be able to
sit through the class with the female equivalent to blue balls. Plus, it wasn’t like masturbating in a bathroom was that crazy of a concept. She’d definitely walked in on someone getting a blow job in a bathroom on campus before. This would just be her and it was so early she doubted there would be any foot traffic.

  Jackie breezed in just as Layla started to stand up. Through the rambling excuses for her tardiness, yet again, there was mention of a quiz. Shoulders slumping, Layla lowered herself back to her seat. The initial pulse of desire faded to a little thrum. One that was manageable. Cheeks flushed, she decided it was probably a good idea she didn’t run off to the bathroom to act out her crazy fantasy.

  She made the mistake of glancing over at Tyson as she grabbed a pen from her backpack. The thrum flared back up into tendrils of white heat that itched at her insides. He was staring at her. Not looking, staring, with a hunger that flooded her core with a new rush of heat that made it impossible to think about anything but the new fantasies that started up behind her eyes.

  He looked at her like a lion, lethal and sleek, biding his time until he could go in for the kill.

  Layla usually thought of herself as a lion, too. Actually, she took a magazine quiz once that told her she was a calculating crocodile. Any other day she felt like the crocodile. In Tyson’s gaze, she felt like a gazelle. Only she wasn’t an unsuspecting victim. No, she willingly locked eyes with her killer. Saw the passion that reflected her in her own eyes.

  The crocodile would go for the kill.

  The gazelle would run away.

  Layla tip toed the line, a hybrid creature. She looked away from Tyson, forcing herself to forget about the fires he stoked in her body. A task, she discovered, that was a lot harder to do when his eyes refused to leave her body the entire rest of the class.

  chapter three

  Grunting through his last reps, Tyson felt a bead of sweat drip down his forehead and into his eye. The salt stung enough to make him wince but not enough to call it quits early. Besides, he needed this – the punishment to his body was a reminder that he wasn’t where he needed to be for the season. Despite keeping a semi-regular workout schedule back home it was harder to keep yourself in shape and at the top when you’re playing street hockey with old friends and pumping iron in your garage.

  He finished to the beat of the rap in his ears and leaned forward on a long breath, reaching for his towel and water. Once his lungs stopped screaming he tugged out his earbuds. The sounds of the rec center roared around him; the music pumping through the overhead system clashed with metal and voices. Too many voices. He preferred hitting up the rec bright and early before the rush of students hit. The staff kept the music quieter, and the sound of grinding equipment wasn’t as harsh.

  Despite getting his hour in that morning he needed an afternoon release. When Heath and one of their other roommates and teammates, Nate, decided to hit up the rec he jumped to tag along. It was better than sitting at home twiddling his thumbs.

  It was his senior year, for fuck’s sake. There was always shit to do.

  Apparently always shit to do this year meant locking himself in his room and angrily jerking off to Layla. Angrily only because he was so annoyed with the entire situation. He thought of the way she squirmed in her seat, the prettiest flush crawling up her skin, her mouth parted while she drifted in her own world. Right fucking there, surrounded by people too buried in their phones to notice the hottest girl in the room was minutes from a toe-curling orgasm. Not him, though. He watched it all like a dirty pervert wondering just what happened to make her rock against her tiny shorts, just what she was thinking about. It was one of the sexiest ninety seconds of his life and he hadn’t even been participating. When he came he thought of the way she looked at him when Jackie interrupted his little peep show, wide eyed with those lips parted just enough for him to see a flash of her teeth.

  His cock twitched in his gym shorts and he groaned. The last thing he needed to do was pop a boner now. Especially not when he already cranked out two pathetic orgasms to the thought since class the day before. He needed to get laid. Hadn’t Heath been rambling about hitting up the bars for Thirsty Thursday? That was still a day away, though, and that meant he would sit through another agonizing class next to Layla. He needed to fuck now. There was a puck bunny that hung around he found tolerable, but he didn’t want to get stuck with that kind of crazy. He never used Tinder before, but he heard the guys talking about how easy it was to find a quick lay. He was just desperate enough to download the damn app.

  The thought of fucking anyone but Layla made his dick go soft in his shorts. What the actual fuck is wrong with me? Tyson looked down at his crotch and frowned. He barely knew Layla. There was chemistry between them, but they definitely weren’t at the stage where the thought of sleeping with someone else made his dick go limp. Right? Had he ever been like that with anyone else?

  “Why are you looking at your dick like that? Did you balls get crushed or something?” Heath asked, wiping sweat off his forehead.

  “Nah, man. I just spaced out.”

  “Didn’t you have that pre-workout? I’m juiced. I feel like King Kong.”

  Nate snorted, walking over to them. “I mean, you definitely smell like you belong in a zoo.”

  “Oh, fuck off. You’d smell ripe if you weren’t busy chasing pussy.”

  “Not chasing,” Nate corrected. He grinned and shrugged his shoulder. “I can’t help it. The ladies love the hair.”

  “No, nobody loves the hair,” Tyson groaned, his lips curling at the mop Nate kept tied high on his head like he was some sorority girl. “Didn’t Coach tell you to cut that shit?”

  “The hair just scored a phone number and an invite to all of us to Club Lagoon tomorrow night. I take apologies in form of shots of Patron. Thank you very much.”

  “Hell no,” Tyson protested as he finished wiping down his equipment. “That place is for fucking freshmen, man. We can go anywhere else.”

  “She’s not old enough to get into the bars.”

  Heath cut in, making sense for the first time in his entire life. “So she’s definitely not old enough for you, dude. You don’t need some eighteen year old puck bunny following you around all year. I saw so many hot chicks at welcome bash last weekend. Literally any of them are better than a freshman.”

  “Fuck you guys. She’s nineteen and a sophomore.”

  “Big fucking deal,” Heath remarked, rolling his eyes.

  They waved goodbye to the desk attendants as they walked out of the rec and into the sweltering late August heat. Their house was only a few blocks from campus so they decided to walk to the rec and back. It made for a nice warm up and cool down after hitting the weights or spending forty minutes doing cardio. Bags slung over their shoulders, they started down the sidewalk.

  “So what, I bet tomorrow you guys want to hit up The Basement for the pong tournament or something,” Nate said, obviously not wanting to give up the conversation.

  That was exactly what Heath proposed earlier that day, but he said, “Or something. Definitely not Lagoon. The last time I went there for a chick my debit card got swiped and I broke out in a rash from the fucking foam they use.”

  “They stopped doing that,” Nate shot back, getting irritated.

  “How desperate are you to get laid? Fucking Christ, dude.”

  Trying his best to defuse the situation, Tyson jogged ahead of his friends and turned around. He shrugged his shoulders, his bag digging into his bare flesh enough to pinch. “Why don’t we say fuck it to both places and just throw a party at our place? You can invite that chick and we get to avoid Lagoon. It’s a win-win. We only have a few weeks before we have to cut back and play the good boys to keep Coach happy, so why the fuck are we wasting our Thursdays on shitty bars?”

  Heath lit up and Nate looked a little less murderous so Tyson considered it a victory. He fell back in line while they started debating the logistics of their thrown together party. While they went back and
forth over charging a cover or eating the costs, Tyson fell a few steps back and contemplated how to convince Layla to show up.

  Despite his best efforts to ride solo to campus, Heath was up bright and early wearing an annoying smirk. He swung from the frame in Tyson’s bedroom, already fully dressed, while Tyson slowly started gathering his clothes.

  “You’re going to see my dick if you don’t leave,” He warned, narrowing his eyes as a threat.

  Shrugging, Heath said, “Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

  Fuck it. If that’s the way he wanted to play. Tyson stripped out of his pajama pants and started to get dressed for the day. “Why the hell are you up so early, anyway?”

  “I was feeling the burn yesterday at the rec, so I got up at five to run. I’m not fucking falling behind this year. No way am I getting on Coach’s shit list.” The unspoken again drifted between them. Heath was a damn fine defenseman if his head was in the game. Unfortunately, he was easily distracted. Last year his parent’s announced they were getting a divorce right at the beginning of the season and it totally fucked with Heath. Coach was understanding to a point, but Heath dropped to third line after flubbing their first few games. Trying to lighten it back up, he said, “Besides, couldn’t miss my ride.”

  “Yeah, speaking of. You owe me gas money, asshole.”

  “Like you can’t afford it.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “It’s petty as shit, man,” Heath grumbled, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. He frowned at it before pulling a twenty dollar bill out and waving it in front of his body. “Here. Don’t fucking look at me like that. Just take it.”

  He didn’t talk about it a lot, but Tyson knew Heath was struggling a little. He worked security gigs over the summer to pick up some extra cash. His parent’s assets – what little they had – were tied up in the divorce, and more than a few times he remembered Heath going off about how his seven year old brother was left at practice or said he didn’t have any money on his lunch card. From what he could gather even before the divorce Heath’s parents weren’t the best, but separating really turned them into giant assholes.