Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Oh sure, he’ll shake Jet’s hand and give him a smile. “Thanks, man. You totally didn’t suck as game DJ either. Even if some of your song choices … were, uh … inventive.”
“You were listening? I woulda thought you’d be too busy kicking ass and taking names.”
Ollie laughs, and I hate that I like the deep rumble as it vibrates through the loud club. “I caught snippets.”
“My personal favorite was Bieber’s ‘Love Yourself’ when Toronto started a fight,” I say.
Ollie smiles in my direction, but then his face drops as if he realized he’s not allowed to like anything that comes out my mouth.
“Everyone knows that song is code for go fuck yourself,” Jet says. “I found it appropriate.”
“Yo, Strömberg! Over here,” Ollie’s line mate Kessler yells out.
Ollie stumbles away from us, seemingly forgetting the girl who was patiently waiting behind him.
Someone else hands Ollie another drink, and he gets caught up talking to them. He’s well and truly on his way to being buzzed.
Jet leads us back to the less crowded side of the bar where Camille and Ava are with fresh drinks. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he asks me.
“No. But can we leave yet?”
“We just got here. Go get another drink.”
If I wasn’t living with the guy, I’d be tempted to ditch him right about now, so instead, I head to the bar and wonder exactly how I’ve become Jet’s puppet. I’ll have to ask Matt and Noah how they ever say no to him.
Despite my protests, as the night wears on, we actually have fun. I drink a few more, and the PR rep and I end up having a lot in common. We both went to Saratoga and both minored in sports management although she graduated a few years before I was even a freshman. She majored in communications, whereas I majored in journalism.
Throughout our chat, my gaze keeps finding Ollie, and he’s getting sloppier by the minute. I know he’s stupid drunk when he looks over at me and he smiles.
Then he looks at the girl who’s been following him around like a puppy, and he sways as he tries to concentrate on what she’s saying. It almost looks as if she’s speaking alien with the way his forehead scrunches.
Ollie sways a bit more, and I realize he’s more than stupid drunk. His official level of drunkenness is probably around three-quarters of the way to shitfaced. That’s only a few steps below “I can’t remember my address” and right on the verge of asking profound questions like “Do penguins have nipples?”
His friend grabs him by the hand, and he follows her out of the bar after wolf whistles and back slaps from his team.
Ugh. The sickly feeling coming from my gut can’t be jealousy. I don’t have that right. But as I watch them leave together, there’s no doubt something inside me doesn’t like it.
I finish off my fifth drink and send Jet a telepathic please can we get out of here now? And I’ve either gained superpowers I’m unaware of or my face gives me away, because Jet nods at me.
“Was that number five?”
“Yup.”
He relents and stands. “Okay, I did promise him I’d let him go home after that.”
“I feel like I should be offended you’re running out of here as soon as possible,” Ava says. “Am I that boring?”
“No, hon”—I lean in and kiss her cheek—“you made my night tolerable.” While a certain hockey player made it almost unbearable.
“Not your scene?” she asks.
“Not really.”
Jet and I make our way outside, but as I go to ask which way the subway is to get back to Noah’s place, I see Ollie’s lips on that girl’s mouth.
They’re by the curb, just kissing away like Ollie does this all the time.
So much for being gay, gay, gay, gay, gay as he pointed out the other day to me in the pressroom. The lengths some of these closeted guys will go to …
I swallow my irrational disappointment and go to leave when Jet pulls me back.
“Quick—look like you’re wasted,” he says.
“Uh, do what now?”
“Just do it.” He grabs the back of my neck and pushes my head down, forcing me to hunch over.
“What the fuck?” I try to shake him off me, but for a smaller guy, he’s surprisingly strong.
“We’re saving him from the jersey chaser.”
“In hockey, they’re puck bunnies.” I try to push him off me again. “And by the look of him, he doesn’t need saving.”
“Friends don’t let friends do stupid drunken things. You’d know this if you had any friends.”
Touché. Apart from Noah, I don’t really have anyone. I relax under Jet’s hand and follow his lead.
Chapter Seven
OLLIE
This feels … wrong. So wrong. And not because I’m kissing a woman, but because my lips are tingly. And numb.
Like my fingers.
And my ears.
Wait … can I normally feel my ears? Can anyone?