Pucked Off (The Pucked Series)(6)

By: Helena Hunting


“Oh my God! I know who you are!” The other girl slaps the table with a shriek. I cringe and survey the room. Thankfully it’s loud in here. Her voice is drowned out by the blaring country music.

She leans in closer. “Don’t you play hockey for Chicago?”

I put a finger to my lips and wink. “Shh. We don’t want everyone to know.”

“Oh my God!” She bounces in her seat and smacks Barbie’s arm. “I knew it! I told you! Wow. What are the chances you’d be here, of all places?”

“Just passing by. Lucky, aye?” I’m not the nicest version of myself right now, so it comes out with a bite of sarcasm. She doesn’t seem to catch it, though.

“Maybe it’ll turn out to be my lucky night.” Barbie gives me a coy look, like she’s trying to be sweet while she propositions me. “Can we get a picture with you?”

“Sure.”

The blonde comes around to my other side, and they squeeze together so we can all be in the photo. They’re both touching me. I hate the way it feels, but I try to smile anyway. I want these to end up on social media so Tash can see how little I fucking care.

My phone buzzes again, and I have to fight not to look at it. Barbie with the brown hair isn’t bad to look at. She’s not drunk, so fucking her isn’t off the table.

I’m in a bad enough headspace that if she makes another pass at me, I’ll probably go ahead and make it her lucky night. And if her friend is interested, I’ll fuck her too. I’ll even get them to fuck each other first. Just to get back at Tash, because she’s the one who calls me a whore, and she’s the one who made me that way. Then I’ll have a real distraction from this fucking empty feeling in my chest.

I tap the side of the bottle. If I finish what’s left, I’ll pass out. These girls are another way to deal with all the goddamn blackness eating at me. Neither is a smart option, but my choices feel limited.

In a way, this makes me exactly like Tash. I’ll use these girls for an hour or two so I can get out of my head and hurt Tash the way she does me. Not that it will work, because I’m not sure if anything she feels is real at all.

“What’re you doing when you’re done with your drink?” Barbie looks around the bar, then back at me.

I finger the ends of her hair. It’s dry and brittle, not like Tash’s. Hers is always soft, and it smells like my shampoo because she likes to make me think she wants me like I want—wanted—her.

I smile anyway. “You, baby.”

Her echoing smile is both excited and nervous, colored with a hint of fear, like maybe she thinks she’s making a mistake.

She is.

“What about your friend?” I nod to the blonde, whose name I still don’t know.

“What?” She looks over her shoulder, like she’s forgotten her friend is even there.

“What’s she gonna do while I’m doing you?”

“You mean Mindy? Um…I…” She touches her hair, flustered by the question. “I don’t—”

I rest my arm across the back of her seat and adjust the strap on Mindy’s top. “You two are good friends, aye?”

They look at each other, and Mindy answers for Barbie. “We’re besties. We take care of each other.”

“You do, do you?” I move Mindy’s hair over her shoulder, my fingers grazing her throat, making her shiver. She doesn’t pull away, though. “Do you do everything together?”

Mindy glances at Barbie. “I guess.”

I lean in and run my nose along Barbie’s jaw until I reach her ear. “Wanna do me together?”

She gasps a laugh and backs up a bit, maybe to see if I’m joking. Her expression is part excitement, part disbelief.

I cock a brow. I hate myself so much right now. I feel sick at the thought of having two sets of hands to deal with. But I’ll do it to get back at Tash for pulling this shit on me. Again.

“Oh my God, you’re serious. You want us both to come home with you?” She brings her fingers to her lips.

I know that expression. She’s considering it.

“We’re not that kind of besties,” Mindy says, a little incredulous.