Fish: You loved it.
Collette: That’s not the point.
Fish: What’s the point?
Collette: The point is, we’re supposed to be a secret.
Fish: We are a secret. The internet is just guessing.
Collette: The internet is guessing correctly.
Fish: Then we’re doing a terrible job.
Collette: WE? You’re the one who winked!
Fish: And you’re the one who blushed. Very unprofessional, Lettie.
Collette: I hate you.
Fish: No, you don’t. You love me.
Collette: Whatever.
Fish: Come over tonight?
Collette: We have to be more careful.
Fish: Is that a yes?
Collette: Yes.
Fish: Bring the vibrator.
Collette: Justin!
Fish: You love me.
I put my phone away and try to look normal, while my heart beats at a million miles per hour.
I arriveat his apartment an hour after the game with the vibrator in my bag like some kind of deranged booty call. He opens the door in gray sweats and nothing else, hair still damp from his post-game shower, and the sight of him makes my mouth water.
“Hi.” He grins, leaning against the doorframe.
“Hi.” I hold up my bag. “I brought what you asked for.”
“That’s my girl.” He pulls me inside by my waist and kicks the door shut behind me. His mouth finds mine immediately, warm and hungry, his hands sliding under my jacket. I drop the bag on the floor and melt into him because kissing Justin Crawford after watching him play hockey for three hours is a religious experience.
“Good game tonight,” I murmur against his lips.
“Mm. Had something to play for.” His hands grip my hips, pulling me flush against him. I can feel him hardening against my stomach already. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire third period.”
“That’s a terrible strategy.”
“Got an assist. Can’t be that bad.” He pulls back and looks at me with an expression that’s half playful, half predatory. “I want to show you something.”
He takes my hand and leads me to his bedroom. On the bed, neatly laid out , is his jersey. Number twenty-two. Crawford across the back. Beside it, a pair of black heels that are definitely not his.
“Where did you get those?” I ask, staring at the heels.