Chapter 26
What's in the Box
Radar
Back home, I needed a long, hot shower before I managed to get the grime of fry grease off of me. My shirt and pants were ruined, so I threw those away.
I threw on my favorite pair of sweatpants and laid in bed. I had a pounding headache, thanks to the punches I'd taken. Wondering what was going to happen next wasn't helping relieve the throbbing pain, either.
Should I call my agent and let him know?
Sometimes it helped to get ahead of the media blitz. If word of this was going to hit the media, it might be best to get the damage control started …
I really fucked things up.
I had such a good thing going in Boston. I knew I wasn't a top-line player—but Lance and I just had that intangible chemistry. I never clicked with a top-six guy before. My only hope was to compete for a bottom-six roster spot on another team …
And I might make that work for a season or two. But once my new team figured out I wasn't the same player as I had been in Boston, their patience would start running thin. I'd find myself on the third line, then the fourth line, then struggling to stay with the big club at all …
You really shouldn't have fooled around with her, moron, I thought.
But then another part of me thought, surprisingly: it was worth it. You did the right thing, and took a chance because you liked her in the first place.
An hour or so later, I heard the condo door open and someone came in.
Great, I mumbled under my breath. If it's Lance, he's probably still furious.
But it wasn't Lance's body that entered the condo. The foot steps were lighter, softer, more elegant, and I knew it was Ella, and she was alone.
I didn't go to see her. I knew well enough to leave her alone, after the train wreck I'd created.
Ten minutes later, there was a soft rap at my door. “Knock knock,” Ella said.
“Come in.”
She stepped in, saw me, and covered her mouth. “Oh my God. Your face.”
“Handsome, right?”
“You look awful, Ryan.”
She spun around and left the room immediately. I thought, huh, I guess she really can't stand the sight of me.
But she returned a minute later holding a bag. “Here. I brought you some ice.” She neared, sat at the edge of my bed, and pressed the ice bag to my eye. “How's that?”
“Helps. Thanks.” I couldn't look her in the eye. “How was dinner?”
“It was MacAllister's, for the second night in a row. Hardly the place you bring a girl you want to impress, right?”
“Where's Lance?”
“Club Regret, with the rest of your teammates.” She paused. “Lance and I had a fight on the way over.”
“Funny. We had a fight too.”
“Yeah. Our fight was about your fight.”
“I figured.”
She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Why would you tell him about last night, Radar?”
“So you wouldn't have to lie to him anymore.”
“But why?”
“I told you, I wanted to make things right. Did it work?” I gave my best shot at giving her a cocky grin, but it must've looked pitiful, given my black-eye-and-ice-bag condition.
She smiled coyly. “Well, you certainly pissed him off.”
“As you can see.”
“He says he's going to make sure you get traded, you know.”
“Yup. I know.”
“Why would you tell him all that, Radar? I wouldn't have told him about last night. You could've continued on, like nothing ever happened.”
“But you told me you vowed to live a life without telling a lie. And here I am, forcing you into that kind of life. I guess I didn't realize how important it was to you, until I made you do it … and saw how angry it made you.”
She didn't answer. She pursed her lips and looked at me with a half-smile, half-frown.
“So, Ella, even if I got away with the lie, you would've had it buried inside you for the rest of your life. Who knows, maybe in the grand scheme of things, that lie wouldn't be a big deal. Maybe, eventually, you'd only think about it once every other year. But it'd still be there, a little piece of proof that you weren't living your life the way you wanted, and worse, it would all be my fault.”
She put her hand against my cheek, the non-swollen one. “Ryan …”
“I like you, Ella.” I covered her hand with mine—and then I gently removed it from my cheek. “But I don't deserve you. And that's why I was only trying to do the right thing last night.”
“What are you talking about, that you don't deserve me?”
“I sleep around. You don't. You're the complete opposite of me.”
“I already know that about you.”
“And how does it make you feel?”
“I mean … I'm not wild about it. But it's not like you're unique in that regard. I'm the odd one, sitting around and waiting, for what, exactly? I'm not even sure anymore.”
I shook my head. “No. See, you don't know how bad it is for me.” I climbed off the bed and pulled the trunk out from underneath the bed. “Here. You were asking me what's in here. You really want to know?”
She looked at me and gave an uncertain dip of her shoulder. “Er … I don't know … I don't know what you're trying to tell me.”
“It's proof of how fucked up in the head I am, Ella.”
She gulped. “It's not like, dead body parts, is it?”
“Of course not. I'm not a murderer.” I unlatched the locks and opened the lid.
Ella peeked in at my shame. “Um. Well, I see … a jumbled pile of women's panties? Are you a cross-dresser?”
“What? No! It's a panty collection.”
“And what is a panty collection, exactly?”
I sighed and explained it to her. Every last mortifying detail. Each pair represented a girl I'd slept with. They were almost all puck bunnies from MeatMarket, the hook-up app I used.
“… How did this get started?” she asked, her brows furrowed with uncertainty.
“One of the first girls I hooked up with, once I went pro, accidentally left her panties in my room. I texted her the next day and told her, in case she wanted to pick them up. But she said, 'add them to your collection.' I told her I didn't have one. She said, 'start one then, duh.' And so … I did.”
She had more questions, and I had answers:
No, I didn't steal any damn panties; the puck bunnies always willingly gave them to me because they knew about my collection and were more than willing to help me add to it.
Yes, of course they were all clean; every pair went through the wash before I placed it in the box.
No, I never did anything weird with them … besides collecting them, anyway.
After I answered all her questions, Ella didn't look at me like I was a monster. In fact, she started to look—amused. Like she were biting her cheeks to keep from breaking out into a laugh.
“I guess I'm just confused why you … ah …” she stifled some giggles, “ahem, why you would want all these panties in the first place?”
“Wait, are you laughing?” I asked, appalled.
“Yes! I am! It's sort of funny, okay! Some people collect stamps, or bottle caps, or baseball cards, but you collect panties.” More giggles.
“I collect them because … I don't know.” I looked into the stupid box and gave it a shake. “It's kind of dark.”
“Tell me.”
“I've always had this idea that, as long as I was an athlete, I should never settle down and date anybody. Because, first of all, there's all these girls who just want to fuck me because of my name and profession, right? But that's a double-edged sword. How can I ever trust that someone I meet is actually interested in me, the person, and not just 'Radar' the hockey player? All these panties are proof that women only like me because I'm a pro athlete.”
She nodded while my words sunk in. “I get it, Ryan.”
To say I was shocked doesn't even begin to explain my surprise. “You do?”
“Yeah, I think so. I'll be honest, it's a little weird, but I still get it. I've got sort of the same problem going on, don't I? I mean, I don't collect the boxers of men I've rejected or anything,” another stifled giggle, “but I have the same fears about finding a guy who actually likes me and isn't just trying to get laid. It's the same problem, it just manifests itself differently, right?”
“I never thought of it like that …”
She shut the panty box. I took her cue and tucked the box back under the bed.
“Why'd you want to show me that, Ryan?” she asked, scooting next to me on the mattress until our thighs touched.
“Because, that's what I meant when I said I don't deserve you. A guy who does something like that shouldn't be your first.”
She covered her mouth.
“You're still laughing,” I said.
“Only because I think you're a sweet guy who doesn't even know that he's sweet.”
“What does that mean?”
“Ryan, the kind of guy who compulsively collects panties because he's a perverted monster isn't the kind of guy to turn a virgin down because he thinks she deserves better for her first time.”
“Then what am I?”
She grabbed my arm and made me drape it around her shoulders. “A guy who actually cares. And I've dealt with enough creeps that I'm normally pretty good at spotting them by now.” With my arm around her, she snuggled against my side. “You're the first guy to turn me down, I'll tell you that much.”
She was so close, her warmth crept over me, and that dangerous scent of hers clouded my mind. I stroked her hair.
“Hardest thing I've ever done,” I said with a smile. “I like you, Ella.”
“I know. I like you too.” She smiled at me and took the ice bag from my face.
“How does it look now?” I asked.
Carefully, she touched the skin around my eye. “Much better. It's kinda sexy, honestly.”
I leaned in and softly kissed her. It wasn't the naughty, forbidden kisses that yesterday's make-out session on the couch was. Instead, the embrace of our lips was something deeper, something more meaningful. Our lips locked, and we explored each other deeper. Like we were truly seeing each other, for who we really were, for the very first time.
Her head hit the pillow and she invited me between her legs. I climbed on top of her, and she squeezed her legs around my back and pulled me into her.
Ella snuck her hand down to my crotch and fondled my growing penis.
“Ella,” I panted. “We don't—”
She put her finger to my lips. “I'm tired of waiting, Ryan,” she said with a twinkle in her eye. “I'm ready.”
“But … what about Lance?”
“I don't care what he thinks. Besides, he's staying at Lindsay's tonight.”
I stared at her. Should I?
But as she tugged me through my sweatpants, and my firming cock began to throb in her dainty hand, my troubles grew.
I gulped.
I couldn't … Lance would kill me if I slept with his sister after everything that had already happened … but …
“I want it, Ryan. I want you.”