Pucked: Pucked Over Part 37

"He made it clear from the beginning it was only ever going to be casual."

"Feelings can change, Lily."

"His haven't." I think about that phone call, the one about the girl at the bar who looked like me. In a matter of hours he'd been looking to replace me. "He said he'd f.u.c.k me over, eventually."

My mom sighs. "Sometimes when people are scared of what they're feeling, they push people away."

"Maybe. I don't know. He hasn't tried to call me lately, or text. I think it's just done."

She gives me another bony squeeze. "I won't tell you there are plenty of fish in the sea, even though there are. And you'll find the one who's right for you, at the right time."

It doesn't feel like I'm going to find another fish right now. I sniffle. "You probably shouldn't since you turned forty and the verdict's still out on Tim-Tom."

"It's Tim, honey, and he's good for me."

"Tim-Tom has a nice ring to it, though."

My mom laughs, and then grows serious. "I know I made a lot of mistakes along the way, and a lot of bad choices, but I want you to know I have no regrets when it comes to you. Well, that's not true. I wish I could've given you more. You deserved so much more than you got, but I did the best I could-"

She chokes on the rest of the words. Which is probably a good thing. My mom and me, we don't have these deep, heartfelt conversations, likely because we both end up ugly-crying.

I pat her back. "You did great, Mom."

"I'm sorry about the hockey boy."

"His name is Randy, and me, too. The s.e.x was really great."

"I definitely didn't need to know that."

"I've seen Tim-Tom's woody."

"I think we should have a drink."

I follow her out to the kitchen where she pours me a gla.s.s of wine, and we watch the hockey game. Toronto is playing Chicago. Randy's beard is beautiful. He looks fantastic. And he scores a goal. My phone buzzes about half an hour after the game ends. I won't lie; my entire being wants it to be Randy-from my hair follicles to my v.a.g.i.n.a Emporium.

It's not.

It's Benji. I dropped his stuff off a few days ago. It went slightly better than I'd expected. He tried to convince me I was making a mistake by moving to Chicago, and that we should get back together. I pointed out that it definitely wouldn't work with me moving. He got mad and then cried. It could've been way worse. But in my haste to leave, I forgot my box.

I groan and check the message. He's letting me know Benny is stopping by in the morning with my stuff.

There's some relief in not having to deal with him directly again. We have a lot of history, and I'm a little sad that this is how it's ending, but I'm also aware that I'll be back, and sometimes time and distance makes it easier to be friends. Who knows if that will ever happen with us.

I go to sleep with my suitcase taking up half my bed, and I wake up to my phone going off. It's Benny. I forgot to set an alarm.

"I'll be right down," I tell him.

I pull a hoodie on over my tank top and shove my feet into my slippers. They're huge and c.u.mbersome, but at least they're warm. Sunny got them for me for Christmas. I don't bother checking my reflection in the mirror before I go down. Frankly, I don't give a s.h.i.+t what I look like.

I close my eyes for the ride in the elevator. I have a headache. I only had one gla.s.s of wine, but it was a big one.

Benny's car is parked in front of my building. I pad across the snowy sidewalk in my moose slippers. I'll need to set them on a vent to dry, but I don't want Benny to offer to bring my stuff up.

He gets out of the car. He's got a beard going on. It's neater than Benji's, but when they both have one, they could pa.s.s for twins. He raises a brow at my outfit. "Looks like I woke you. I could've met you at the door."

"It's fine. I needed to get up anyway. Lots of packing to do." I don't have much left, but it's something to say.

"So you're moving to Chicago, eh?"

I shove my hands in the pouch of my hoodie. "Yeah."

He nods. "Getting out of Guelph will be good for you."

"I think so. How's Benji?" I don't ask because it feels obligatory; I'm honestly concerned, especially since he's sent Benny in his place.

Benny shrugs. "You know how he is. He needs to start figuring out his life. You moving on might actually end up being a good thing for him, too."

We leave the rest unsaid. Benji needs to do some growing up. "I hope so."

"Me, too." He sighs. "Let me get your stuff. I gotta get to work, and the snow's making it hard today."

"Yeah, of course." I'm relieved he can't stay and chat. Also, it's freezing out, and my feet are going numb.

He opens the pa.s.senger door and pulls out a banker's box. It's stuffed with mostly useless c.r.a.p. There's a prom picture of me and Benji sitting on top. We broke up that night after one of the guys on the football team asked me to dance and Benji flipped his lid. It's amazing how seven years of memories can be reduced to one cardboard box.

I tuck it under my arm and give Benny an awkward side-hug. It's while I'm doing this that I notice an SUV driving by on a slow roll. Snow squeaks under the tires as it comes to a stop beside Benny's car.

The man in the front seat makes eye contact as I disengage from Benny. I feel like I might be hallucinating, because it sure as h.e.l.l looks like Randy. He starts rolling again, like he's about to leave. Which doesn't make sense if he drove here all the way from Toronto.

I'm in pajama pants with moose on them, my moose slippers, and a hoodie with stains. I haven't brushed my teeth, and it's d.a.m.n well freezing out, but there's no way he's leaving before I find out why he came all the way here. If it's him. Otherwise I'll be embarra.s.sed by what I'm about to do.

"Sorry, Benny, I gotta-" I drop the box in the snow, make wild flailing gestures, and start running. It's as slippery as a pool of lube, but I'm determined to catch the guy before he blows the stop sign. I hope I'm not losing it and it's actually Randy.

Thankfully he's driving cautiously due to the heavy, unplowed snow. I've never been so grateful for poor city maintenance. He comes to a halt at the stop sign at the same time I throw myself over the hood. I grab hold where it meets the winds.h.i.+eld and look up to find Randy's stunned face staring back at me.

Sliding off the hood, I wrench open the pa.s.senger door and heave myself inside. I decide to play it cool. I pull the door shut and lean against it, going for casual even though I'm breathing like I've run a marathon, my s.h.i.+rt is soaked from the snowy hood, and I'm wearing moose slippers. "Hey."

Randy looks like s.e.x rolled in bacon and dipped in maple syrup. His hair is seriously f.u.c.ked. It's longer again, but it's not pulled back, and half of it is hanging in his face. His beard is all beardy, and all I want to do is wrap myself around him.

"Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?" He points to the hood and then to me.

"You were driving away." I say in breathy defense.

"Are you back with that douche?" Randy jerks his thumb in Benny's direction, except Benny's already in his car, so Randy's motioning to an empty s.p.a.ce.

"That's Benji's brother, Benny. They look a lot alike with facial hair. And no, there's no way I'd get back together with him."

"His brother's name is Benny?"

"His parents are jerks."

"Obviously."

We stare at each other for a few long seconds, in which time I consider all the ways to get naked.

Randy taps the steering wheel, and I stop mentally undressing him so I can listen to his words. "So things are finished with him?" he asks.

"Yeah. Totally finished. Benny was dropping off my stuff from Benji. It's easier than seeing him. I mean, I can manage seeing him, but he can't manage seeing me. He still wants to get back together, and I don't, so it's awkward." Kind of like this conversation.

"That's good. You can do better than that d.i.c.khead." He chews on the inside of his lip while nodding slowly.

"He's insecure."

"Doesn't give him the right to treat you like s.h.i.+t or belittle you."

G.o.d, he's s.e.xy, and the way he's talking reminds me of when I first met him at Alex's cottage. He was so c.o.c.ky, and then he defended me, and I rammed my tongue down his throat. I can't believe that was almost six months ago. I can't believe I'm in love with him, and he's sitting here, and I have no idea why.

"So, what brings you to Guelph at eight o'clock in the morning?" I ask, again going for casual.

Randy stretches his arm across the seat. "You."

Well, that's direct. "I... uh..."

"I don't wanna not see you anymore." He blurts it right out, like word vomit.

"Um..." I have no idea what that means. If he's here for a booty call, I think I might punch him. I will not have casual s.e.x with him, even if I want to.

He runs his hand through his hair. "Sorry. Last night was long."

"I watched the game."

"Yeah?"

"You've been racking up the penalty minutes lately."

"I've been in a bad mood. Happens when the girl I want to be with breaks up with me 'cause I'm not fun anymore."

Talk about laying it all out there. "I didn't say you weren't fun anymore. Wait. Break up with-"

"You said it wasn't fun for you anymore. Isn't that the same thing?"

It's actually very, very different, but I'm still getting my head around the "break up" comment. I need to say something. I can't look at him, so I drop my gaze to my lap. s.h.i.+t. I am not dressed for this conversation. I bet my hair's a mess. This is the most fail reunion ever. If that's what it is.

"Lily?"

"The s.e.x didn't stop being fun-"

"I'm glad my f.u.c.ked-up d.i.c.k is useful." He sounds so bitter.

I look up at him. "I love your f.u.c.ked-up d.i.c.k."

"Not enough to want to ride it any more, though."

I'm angry that he's come all this way and we're still just talking about the s.e.x. "Your d.i.c.k isn't f.u.c.ked up, and this is about more than s.e.x, Randy!" I shout. I don't mean to, but this conversation isn't going in a helpful direction, and now all I can think about is riding his d.i.c.k.

A car honks its horn behind us. Randy rolls down the window and gives the person the bird. It's Benny.

"We're sitting at a stop sign." I point to the red octagon.

Randy puts on his blinker and turns the corner. He drives around the block before he pulls over in front of my apartment building and puts on his hazards. He strokes his beard, his expression pensive. "I thought I was just gonna be your rebound. I didn't expect it to turn into something else."

I go back to looking at my moose pants. "Look, maybe I should have said something long before I did, but casual s.e.x doesn't work for me, and you've made it clear that's what you do."

Randy frowns. "So you're not good at casual, and that's all you thought this was."

"Yes." Finally, I think we're getting somewhere. I sigh and shove my hands between my knees. "Everything was fine at first when I kind of hate-liked you, and you were eating at the v.a.g.i.n.a Emporium in public bathrooms. Then you started taking me out for lunch, and you bought me clothes and joked about me moving to Chicago. Spending time with you over the holidays changed things-it seemed like it changed things for you, too. It started to feel like something else, but you'd told me it wasn't."

Randy stares straight ahead, gripping and releasing the steering wheel. "Was it all the talk about you moving to Chicago?"

"You joking around about me moving isn't the issue, Randy."

His jaw tics. "I see." His chin drops to his chest, and he closes his eyes. "What if what we were doing wasn't just casual?"

"I think the word casual needs to be banned from the rest of this discussion. Can you please explain what you mean?"

"So, like, what if we're doing what we were doing, but with feelings."

"Most people call that a relations.h.i.+p, Randy."

He bites a nail. He looks like a cornered animal.

"If you can't even say the word, it's not something you're ready for."

"I can say it."

"Then do."

"Relations.h.i.+p." He's still chewing on his thumb, so it comes out all garbled.

I don't know whether to laugh or cry. My stupid eyes decide for me and start to water. I hate crying. "I can't-" I reach for the handle.

"Wait!" Randy grabs my wrist. It's the first time he's touched me since I got in the vehicle. His skin is warm and rough. It's still electric. My heart aches so badly, and my magic marble is going crazy.

He licks his lips and swallows hard, eyes darting to me and away. "Look, my whole life everyone's compared me to my dad. How I look, how I talk, how I act, how good I am at hockey-I'm just like him. And he ruined my mom with all his d.i.c.king around. She's never gotten over it and my sister moved halfway around the world to get away from him. I don't ever want to do to someone else what he did to them, and to me. I don't want to put anyone through that."

The pain this has caused him is clear in his eyes, in the rigid set of his shoulders, in the tremor in his voice. This man, so confident on the ice and in bed, is floundering in the face of feelings.

I sweep my thumb across his knuckles. "You don't have to repeat the same mistakes, Randy. You're your own person. You control your actions."