Page 61 of The Groupie

“No more hockey games?”

“No.” She stares at me, and I stare back. A feeling sweeps over me, like when you’re half asleep and you feel like you’re falling, and then you startle awake and realize you’re okay. Except I’m not okay. I’m left with a woozy feeling, like I’m dizzy or drunk, but different. Whatever this buzz is, I can’t say I don’t like it.

I wrap my arms around her and whisper close to her ear, her hair tickling my face, electrifying me, and not to mention making my dick stand up. “Stay with me. We don’t have many more nights.”

“You make a good case, but—”

I cut her off with a kiss, the kind with meaning and feeling and tenderness as I taste her and my tongue toys with hers, sweeping across her teeth and her lips. I want more, and I don’t want to stop.

She pushes away, breathless, and I gaze down at her eyes, bright and heart-stopping in the semi-darkness. I want to get lost in her eyes and stay—

“I don’t know why we should bother spending any more nights together. Our fling has run its course. It’s too much trouble to keep it going with everything going on—you have your Bachelor of the Year image, and I have my ankle and—”

“Shut up, Rylee. None of that adds up to shit. We have something worth whatever trouble we have to go through to make it happen.”

She scoffs. “Do we?” She pauses. “All we really have in the end is a business deal, and I don’t think I’d even hold you to that if you—”

“That deal sticks no matter what.”

My phone pings, and Rylee pulls from my hold. “Check your phone. It’s probably Sheila or Candice or maybe some other woman who wants your attention and doesn’t have rules and problems and trouble.”

She tries to walk away, but I grab her and hold on tight. “You’re coming with me.”

She laughs. “Now, you’re resorting to kidnapping? Maybe you like drama?”

“You’re the one who claims you don’t like drama,” I say as I drag her through the alley to the back parking lot where the valet parked my SUV. Sheila’s waiting in the back seat on her phone.

“Get in.”

Rylee stares at me for a few beats. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

I help her into the car, shut the door, and go around, half wondering if she’s going to jump out before I have a chance to drive away.

She stays put. I slam the door behind me and start up the car.

“You’re trending on social media in Boston,” Sheila says.

“Fuck.”

“It’s not so bad. People think you’re with me.”

I laugh. “You’re a real good sport, Sheila.”

“I’ll put that on my dating profile and see what it gets me.”

Rylee turns to her. “You won’t need any dating app, honey. I predict you’ll be very popular in the next few days the way you look tonight. You’re gorgeous. You ought to cash in and have a ball.”

Sheila laughs. “You’re probably right.” She smacks me on the shoulder. “Thanks, Zak.”

“Sure, any time. Call if you need a reference.”

It doesn’t take long to get to Sheila’s place in Revere on the north shore of Boston, and once I’m alone in the car with Rylee, tension overwhelms the intimate space.

She stares at me long and hard as I drive across the Tobin Bridge back into Boston. I flick her a glance in question.

“Last chance for you to take me home, or I can’t be responsible for your broken heart.”

My heart clatters, and my breath catches. I manage to avoid driving off the side of the bridge as I force a smile and try to get my cool back. “Why would you say a thing like that?”