Clipped by Love (Bellevue Bullies #2)

by Toni Aleo

  Looking away quickly, I roll my eyes. She may be right, but I don’t care. I don’t have time for a hookup and that’s not how I want my vacation to go. I want to have fun and while, yes, a weekend of sex with door-busting shoulder guy may be fun, it isn’t smart.

  And like my dad said, I’m not a dumb girl.

  Since Delanie was taking forever and a day, I fall back into the sand with Mandie, the water running up and wetting me to my ankles. I try so desperately not to look over at where she is flirting with the three hotties, but it’s hard. My eyes are trained on the taller one, and man, is he a sight. I want to inspect each of the tattoos that covers his chest and back. The middle one has them along his arms with only a few on his chest, and the littlest one, whom I assume is the youngest, has none.

  He’s a baby.

  And Delanie is gonna gobble him up.

  I want to feel bad, but he doesn’t seem to be hurting any. He is giving just as good as she is, and their body language is on the brink of being disgusting. The middle one looks bored and keeps glancing at his phone, while the bigger one is looking off at the ocean, bored too, I think. I want to go over there, but I’m not sure what I would do once I got there. I don’t want to hook up, I don’t even want to know him, so why do I feel this need to go over there? It isn’t like he is going to pay me any mind. Yeah, he was checking me out, but that’s what guys do. They check out and decide if they want some; obviously, he does not want any. Which is fine with me.

  I refuse to admit that may dent my ego a tidbit.

  Just a smidge.

  As I watch him pathetically, I try to act like I’m looking at other stuff so that Mandie doesn’t catch on. I act as if, Wow, that’s a gorgeous bird, when really, I’m like, Holy shit, his shorts are hanging low. Oh look at that, that kid’s got some skills on that wakeboard, but really, I’m thinking Does he have abs on top of abs on top of abs? I think I’m doing well, but when his eyes meet mine, I gasp, obviously caught. We are both wearing sunglasses, but I swear his gaze is boring into mine. Almost like he knows I am drinking in every single detail of him, just to keep in a little vault in my mind for the rest of my life. When I get bored, I can open it and think about the hottie on the beach who wanted nothing to do with me. But then, something inside me tells me I’m wrong.

  I think he might want me.

  But still, he doesn’t move. His mouth pulls up at the side as he runs his hand through his hair before he pulls his gaze from mine and looks back at where Delanie is obviously talking their ears off. She’s good at that.

  “Jesus, I just got hot too,” Mandie gasps from beside me. “That guy is fire.”

  “And I want to be the gasoline,” I mutter and she laughs.

  “I’m telling you, go hook up. It isn’t like you’ll ever see him again. Fun Florida Fling. Ha-ha, the three Fs!”

  I want to laugh, but I shake my head. “No way. That’s all I need. To have sex, get pregnant or get an STD, or worse, catch feelings for the dude. He’s obviously a player.”

  With her face scrunched up, she asks, “How in the world is catching feelings worse than getting pregnant or an STD? And also, how in the hell do you know he’s a player?”

  I smile as I shrug. “Question one, yes. It can throw me off my game, mess with my head. I don’t have time for heartbreak.”

  “Oh yes, one-way ticket into the NHL.”

  “That’s right,” I say with a nod. “Now for question two, that’s obvious. Look at the way he is standing. The way his hair waves carelessly in the air. He probably didn’t put enough gel in his hair just to get that effect.”

  “Oh, of course,” she says with a roll of her eyes.

  Pinning her with a look, I say, “His shorts hang low on his waist to give off that I want sex vibe! Oh, and then look at the way he’s licking those delectable lips. He’s working it. He’s basically a walking billboard for sex, flashing, begging bitches to come get a taste.”

  Looking from the guy to Mandie, I find that she is looking at me like I’m insane, and then she gives truth to my suspicious. “You’re insane.”

  I laugh as I nod. “I speak the truth. He’s a poster boy for an NHL rookie player. He’s ten seconds from doing a keg stand and then taking some girl behind the building for a blow job.”

  “Your view on men is sorta scary,” she comments and I shrug.

  “I am around guys like him every day. I have no problem seeing them for what they are.”

  She shakes her head. “Jason isn’t like that.”

  “He was, before you.”

  She shrugs and sends me a sneaky grin. “See, they change. Maybe you can get a piece.”

  “No, I don’t have time to wait for the change; I have plans.”

  “Plans that are taking over your life. You need to let loose a bit, Baylor. That’s why we’re here, you know. To let loose, relax, and have fun. Sex is relaxing, and I bet sex with him would be very fun.”

  I don’t know why I am glaring at her, but I find myself doing that before she starts laughing at me. “Whoa now, killer, don’t tackle me.”

  I scoff. “I just don’t understand why girls nowadays are all about sex. Why can’t we focus on something else?”

  “Like what? Baking? It’s not 1950—it’s a new generation. We like sex, like men, and we shouldn’t have to feel bad for it or be called names.”

  “Says the person who just called her sister a whore.”

  Deadpan, she says, “Because she is.”

  I laugh. “Fine, whatever. I’m not sleeping with that dude.”

  “Because you’re dumb and selfish. If that guy was looking at me like that, I would forget everything and open my legs so wide.”

  I scoff. “You’re such a liar.”

  “You’re right,” she says sheepishly. “But I’m trying to coax you into a night of naughty, nasty, fun sex with that guy.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks.”

  “I swear you’re gay,” she then says and I smile.

  “I don’t like you,” I decide.

  “Sure you do. You’re just mad I’m right.”

  Rolling my eyes, I look back at the ocean, exhaling the breath I was holding. “Whatever.”

  She giggles, and when I look up, I see that Delanie is coming toward us, sashaying a little too hard in my opinion. With a bright grin, she places her hands on her knees, I know to give smaller dude a great view of her ass while she tells us, “They are so fucking hot.”

  “Duh,” Mandie says.

  “What did you say to them?” I ask even though I don’t know why I care.

  But I do.

  Her face warms, and through her big shades, I see her eyes are glittering with excitement and lust. I haven’t seen her this hopped-up on a guy in a while. It’s sort of cute.

  “Just the basics. You were right—they are all hockey players. The two younger ones play in Nashville somewhere…I was too busy checking out his abs. His name is Jace, the middle-size guy is his older brother, Jude. He just got drafted to the Kings and—”

  “Like the LA Kings?” I say, interrupting her, and she grins.

  “Yup, but he’s taken. About to propose to his girlfriend Callie, or Cathy? Something with a C.”

  “Oh my God, were you even listening to the guy?” Mandie asks.

  “I listened when he told me he wanted me to come to his party tonight at their condo! He invited us over early, just to hang before all their friends show up. They are gonna make steak and shit. I told them we’ll bring sides.”

  “How did we get dragged into this?” I ask, and she waves me off.

  “Because it’s perfect! Mandie and Jude are taken, so they can talk about future boring married life, while we try to hook up with Jace and… Shit, I think his name was Jamie? Jarred? It starts with a J.”

  “I swear to God,” Mandie mutters, and I have to agree.

  Delanie is a complete airhead. One-track mind on that one.

  Looking past her, I see that Jace is watching her li
ke I knew he would be. Jude is on his phone, but to my surprise, unknown J-name guy isn’t checking her out. He’s looking at me, and when he sees that I am looking at him, he grins.

  Hmm.

  Tearing my gaze from him, I say, “I don’t know.”

  “What!” Delanie exclaims. “What is there not to know? Two hot guys, two hot girls, fucking hot monkey sex. It’s pretty cut-and-dried.”

  “She says she isn’t getting laid this weekend,” Mandie volunteers.

  “Oh my God! Please don’t be like that. Open the holy gates and let someone in,” she begs, and I roll my eyes.

  “You are disgusting and sound like a fucking dude,” I spit at her, and she rolls her eyes this time.

  “Get over it, and don’t ruin this for me! If you don’t want to have sex with him, cool, but at least be nice.”

  “No problem,” I say with a shrug. “If I even go.”

  “Oh, you’re going! I already said you were, and Jamie looked excited about it,” she says, and I let out a breath, hating her a bit more than usual.

  “I don’t know, Del. How do we know they aren’t killers?”

  “We don’t. Which is why I brought pepper spray, and I have extra, along with lots and lots of condoms.”

  “I swear to—”

  Before I can even finish, she says, “Shut up. You said we were going to have fun and get wild. Those guys are the ticket for that. Now shut your cakehole and get ready for a fun night!”

  Knowing that I have no choice in the matter, I fall back into the sand and mutter, “Whatever.”

  “Yay! Let’s go back and get ready!”

  “Yay!” I mimic, receiving a very unhappy look from the both of them.

  But, I’m so excited.

  Can you tell?

  I’m not a supergirlie girl.

  Obviously, since I play one of the toughest sports. But I actually tried for Florida. Well, no, let me rephrase that, Delanie made me try for Florida. Looking in the mirror, I smile at my reflection and I decide I don’t hate her as much as I did when we first got back to the apartment we rented. I braided my hair to the left side, still leaving some tendrils for a sexy feel. I’m wearing more makeup than just my trusty red lipstick, which is very unlike me. I have a good complexion so I don’t gunk it up with a lot of makeup, but today I did. It actually looks good with the red that stains my lips.

  When I was fourteen, I told my dad I wanted to be like the other girls and wear makeup. He took me to the pharmacy and handed me a tube of red lipstick. Then he told me that this was all I needed—that pretty girls wear red lipstick, and since I was the most gorgeous girl he knew, I needed red lipstick. I never questioned him because I never really do, and for the last almost seven years, I’ve only worn red lipstick. All the time. Even on the ice. My friends have tried to change that, but I never really caught on to the whole makeup trend and stuck with my lipstick.

  Maybe that’s why I don’t have a boyfriend.

  Ah, who am I kidding? I’m too busy for one.

  Tonight though, I pulled out all the stops. Okay, honestly, Delanie did all this, but I look good, so who am I to stick to the logistics. While my face is pretty, my outfit is cuter. Like I was instructed, I kept my bikini underneath the tank that had the Beatles on it, and it’s easy to say that Jude inspired my look tonight. With a pair of short shorts my dad would not approve of but make me feel a bit wild, I have my favorite flip-flops. Apparently they are doing a bonfire tonight, so around my waist is a black hoodie in case I get cold.

  I guess I look like every other college girl on her last summer hurrah.

  Typical.

  Coming out of my room, I find Delanie and Mandie waiting for me. Delanie is wearing a skimpy little dress, her bikini top showing through the sheer fabric, while Mandie looks a lot like me, in shorts and a tank.

  “About damn time!” Delanie complains as she gathers all the crap she’s been cooking all afternoon. She believes the way to a man’s dick is with food, hence why I was peeling potatoes and eggshells for two hours. Torture, it was, especially since she wouldn’t let me have any.

  “I didn’t even take that long!” I complain back, and she gives me a dirty look as Mandie laughs.

  “Actually, you did,” she points out. “But you look hot.”

  “Er, thanks,” I say with a shrug before Delanie starts to stack the Coke in my arms. She then stuffs the one spot in my arm that’s free with a huge bottle of Jack.

  “Can I carry this?” I ask, always the cautious one.

  “Yes, you aren’t drinking it. Yet,” she says with a nod before handing shit to Mandie.

  Oh, how stupid of me.

  “Who said I’m drinking?”

  Letting her head drop back, Mandie giggles as Delanie groans loudly. “Oh my God, can we leave prudish, cautious Baylor here? And take wild, fun Baylor to the party, please?”

  “What? I’m just asking,” I say back at her.

  “No, you are being a pain in my ass. Have fun, Baylor! You play hockey twenty-four seven, you have a four-point-fucking-oh GPA! Let loose! Have fun!”

  “I am!”

  “No! You’re calculating and trying to figure out a way out of this, when I can see it on your face that you want to go, and you want to ride that guy like a Zamboni.”

  Gasping, I look at her in horror. “How dare you use hockey as a dirty sex reference!”

  “Oh girl, I am loaded with them!” she yells back. “Now shut up and let’s go so you can find out how long his stick really is!”

  “Oh my God,” I groan as Mandie continues to laugh her ass off. “I don’t even know why I am friends with someone who can’t respect the game.”

  “Because I don’t care about the game. The only thing I care about is watching you win because it makes you happy. Now a weekend of happy fun time with a little sex on the side will make you smile and relax you. Hold this,” she says, tucking a bag of Solo cups in my arm. “And let’s go.”

  Grumbling, I glare as she packs shit in Mandie’s arms. I don’t know why, but I ask, “Why are we bringing so much? Aren’t they hosting us?”

  Mandie seems to agree with me, but Delanie shoots me a glare. “Yes, and they have a lot, according to the picture he sent me, but—”

  “You exchanged numbers with him already?” I shriek, almost dropping the stuff in my arms so I can smack her. “He could be a psycho!”

  She shrugs. “He isn’t a psycho, he’s nice, and since I plan on fucking him tonight and probably tomorrow, I want to be able to call him again tomorrow. Or whenever I’m in Nashville.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” I mutter, and she grins before stepping in front of me.

  “Now, rules. Like you said, they are hockey players. And I know you are too, but when you tell people that, you have a tendency to rub it in their face that you are the best.”

  “I do not!” I counter, but she gives me a look.

  “Yeah, you do,” Mandie adds, and I send her the same look.

  Do I? Hmm. Personality flaw, I guess. But, I mean, I am the best.

  Shrugging, I say, “If a man can’t handle my awesomeness, then he is obviously not man enough for me.”

  And it’s true. I have no problem getting a dude. I can have a boyfriend, but 99% of the time, they get intimidated by me. I read once that a strong man can handle a strong woman, but a weak man will say she has an attitude. Needless to say, I’ve been with a lot of weak men. Then there was that one guy that shattered my world.

  So yeah, Baylor: 0, Men: A lot.

  “Says the person who doesn’t get laid,” she counters and my glare deepens. “Now. If for some reason, the hockey comes up, cool. But just say, yeah, I play a bit. Can I suck your dick?”

  “I would never!” I exclaim as Mandie dissolves in giggles.

  “One can hope, but please, leave intense hockey Baylor here, please,” she practically begs, and I hadn’t realized I was that bad.

  It kind of hurts my feelings, but I won’t let her know t
hat. I won’t apologize either for being intense about my career. Passionate people are the ones who work hard for what they want and more than likely reach their goal. So I might be a little overly passionate. I play hockey with a bunch of egotistical dudes, I have to hold my own. Plus, this right here proves why I am never friends with girls! Half the time they can’t handle me, and then the other half, they are pushing me into fornicating at the drop of a hat.

  But as I look into her eyes, I can see that she really does care for me. That she really does want me to have fun, and I know she’s only picking at me. She wouldn’t push me into anything I wouldn’t want to do. I need to have fun. I’m not a naïve girl; I know how to make good decisions. And a little part of me wants to do what she says. Let loose and just have fun.

  So with a nod, I try to ignore the nervousness in my belly. There is something about unknown J-name guy that makes my heart skip a beat like a little high schooler. He also makes me nervous. I’ve been hurt by guys like him, but maybe I can have fun. There’s going to be food and drinks, and I like both of those. And if, for some reason, unknown J-name guy wants to talk to me and hang, cool, but he won’t get in my pants.

  Meeting Delanie’s gaze, I smile. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  “And you’re gonna try to have fun?”

  I nod. “Yes.”

  “And you won’t bring up hockey?” she asks me, her eyes challenging mine.

  Smiling, I decide I can do that. I can not be hockey player Baylor for one night. No problem. So with a nod, I say, “Hockey? What’s that?”

  That seems to please her, and as we head out and down the beach toward their condo, I let go of the cautious, overzealous, Baylor. And embrace wild, fun Baylor.

  Sorta.

  Pushing my shoulder into Jude’s chest, I carry the puck around him before shooting hard toward the goal. But instead of hitting the pipe like I wanted to, I hit it in. That would have been ideal if there were a goalie, but since it’s one-on-one, Sinclair-style street hockey, our goal is to hit the pipe.

  “You suck,” Jace calls at me, and I scoff.

  “I suck? I can shoot circles around you, you cocky little shit.”