Alex

Once the apologies were out of the way, it got awkward when Brandon immediately asked me out to dinner. It was at this point I had to tell him that this wasn’t ever going to go where he wanted it to.

“I’m sorry, Brandon,” I had told him gently. “But I can’t go out to dinner with you. Not now, not ever.”

He was silent for a moment, then he asked, “Is it me? What I did to you? Or is it something else?”

At that moment, I knew he knew, so I laid the truth out to him. “It’s someone else, in particular.”

“Alex” was all he said.

“Yes. But even if Alex wasn’t in the picture, I don’t think you and I could have started over. I think we were done for good.”

He was fairly understanding and we talked for a bit more. We made vague promises to keep in contact and to continue our friendship, but I knew that wasn’t going to happen. Those things never work out as we hope they can.

I do have a text from Shelley. She’s taken to watching hockey now, in particular the Cold Fury, so we can dish about Alex. She thinks it’s beyond exciting that I’m dating an NHL player, but I never look at Alex that way. I just see him as Alex.

Not a good game, she texted along with a sad face.

I wrote her back, I know. I feel terrible for Alex.

Love on him good. That will make him happy again.

I wrote back a last message. Head out of gutter. Talk to you later.

I’m nervous as to what type of mood he’ll be in. The Cold Fury have been on a winning streak and tonight’s game was only the second one they’ve lost since I met Alex. He didn’t look happy after the 3–2 beating they took by the lowest-ranked team in their division. It didn’t change the Cold Fury’s standing, but even I know enough about sports to know that a loss does not make for happy players.

I texted Alex as soon as the buzzer went off ending the third period, offering to take a rain check on getting together. He didn’t respond, so I had no choice but to head to Hoolihan’s as we had originally planned and wait for him. He had asked me earlier in the day if I minded if he invited Garrett, and of course, I didn’t. I was anxious to learn more about the man who was apparently becoming a good friend to the self-admitted loner, Alex Crossman.

“Sutton?”

Turning toward the feminine voice, I see Monica standing there, her blond hair in a riot of curly ringlets. She’s wearing a Cold Fury jersey, obviously having just come from the game. When Alex had gotten me a ticket for tonight, I was slightly surprised it wasn’t in the same spot where I had previously sat beside Monica. However, the change was nice because he put me in The Fury Club, which is a section of the upper-level seating that has plush leather seats, a food buffet and free alcohol. Not that I partook of any of that since I’d be meeting Alex later.

Still, the seats were amazing and even though the Cold Fury lost, I had a wonderful time cheering on Alex and his team. I was even proudly sporting the Crossman jersey Alex had given me this morning just before I left his apartment, right after he had wrung two orgasms out of me.

Sighing deeply over the memory, I smile at Monica and pleasantly say, “Hey! What are you doing here?”

Monica leans in to give me a quick hug. “I came over for a drink with some friends after the game,” she says, pointing to the front door area where two other girls are waiting. “I saw you standing here and thought I’d come say hello.”

“It’s good to see you,” I tell her genially, because it is. I truly had fun with her when I watched my first-ever hockey game.

Monica waves her friends over to make introductions and I give warm smiles to her buds, Amy and Carrie. They too are sporting Cold Fury jerseys and are bearing the slightly dejected look of having suffered a loss.

“Sutton here is friends with Alex Crossman,” Monica says with a mischievous grin as she wraps her arm around my shoulders, giving me a squeeze.

As Amy and Carrie squeal, I smile inwardly to myself and think, Yeah, I’m much more than just his friend now.

This, unfortunately, brings scorching hot memories of the unbelievably stellar sex we had last night and this morning, and if I may recommend it to anyone who is considering a safe and healthy monogamous relationship, sex without condoms is the f**king bomb. I swear, I could feel Alex inside of me with such exquisite detail, the memory of it has me clenching my legs tight together to relieve the ache starting to build. I take a swig of my beer to moisten the dryness in my throat and tune back in to the conversation.

“Are you meeting him here tonight?” Carrie asks.

“Um…uh…yeah, I guess so,” I say lamely, because I know that it will probably be impossible to get rid of Monica and her cronies now. I assume that once they get a gander at Alex and Garrett, all hope of a cozy evening with my man and his numero uno buddy will fly out the window.

The girls lapse into talk about the hockey game and I find myself enjoying the commentary. I realize how far I’ve come as a hockey fan when I can actually contribute to the conversation, joining in the lamenting of the fact that our boys just played shitty tonight. Alex looked off in his play, a thought that worried me a little, because I’m just insecure enough to wonder if I have anything to do with that. Or maybe that’s me having too big an ego?

Still, after our conversation last night about his “first kiss,” I’ve been thinking a lot about Alex and the burdens he carries in his soul. I was shocked and disgusted that his father would remove his childhood and then try to replace it with a whore. It’s despicable and I hope to God I never have the pleasure of meeting the man. Of course, the likelihood of that happening is slim, because while I believe Alex is developing feelings for me, he still remains closed tight as a clam when it comes to much of his personal life.