Page 33 of Puck Me Back to Life

Imake it through exactly one shot before escaping.

The team is still gathered around the bar when I slip away. Dante is trying to convince three different people to sing karaoke. One of the assistant coaches has already started regretting every life choice that led him to this hotel. The whole room feels warm and loud and alive.

I should probably stay. That's what normal people do after a win. Instead, I find myself riding the elevator alone. The second the doors close, everything Ash said comes rushing back.

Power play.

Punishment.

Pain and pleasure.

I stare at my reflection in the mirrored wall of the elevator. My face is still warm. Maybe from the alcohol. Maybe from Ash possibly flirting with me. Who could tell?

The problem is that I can't stop thinking about the way he said it. Ash hadn't sounded embarrassed.

Or hesitant. Or apologetic. He'd spoken about those things with complete certainty, like they were just another part of who he was.

The confidence was hot. I can't deny that. Most people spend their lives trying to hide parts of themselves. Ash practically introduces himself with them.

The elevator dings. I walk down the hallway toward my room. The carpet muffles my footsteps. Most of the team is still downstairs celebrating. I let myself into my room and immediately drop onto the edge of the bed.

The silence feels strange after the noise downstairs. For a few minutes, I just sit there.

Then my brain betrays me.

Punishment.

Of all the things Ash mentioned, that's the word that refuses to leave. I don't know much about kink.

Actually, I know almost nothing, but the word keeps circling my thoughts.

Pain.

The concept settles somewhere dangerous inside me, because if there is one thing I understand, it's punishment.

I understand consequences.

I understand guilt.

I understand the desire to suffer for something you've done.

A cold knot forms in my stomach. I think about the balcony.

The pen.

The relief.

My jaw tightens.

No. That isn't what Ash meant. Probably.

Still, the thought lingers. Would it quiet things? Would it make the noise stop for a little while? Would it make me feel something besides guilt? I lean back against the headboard.

The room suddenly feels too small.

I grab my phone. Then set it down. Then pick it up again. Like that's somehow going to help. My mind keeps returning to the bar. To the way Ash looked at me. The way his voice dropped lower when he was explaining things. To the moment he caught my arm before I left.

If you're interested... I'm willing to show you what I meant.