Naughty & Nice

by J. S. Scott

  I think there’s a reason that long-distance relationships don’t generally work out, and we need to be honest about this. It has disaster written all over it because I don’t believe just spending time together during your off-season is ultimately going to be enough.

  Here’s the thing… I care about you. It’s true. You and I have shared so much the last few weeks in our emails, and we have a definite intimate connection. But truly, my heart wouldn’t be able to stand some type of half-assed, long-distance affair with you. I’m not built that way.

  I totally understand if you want to break things off completely. I mean… do guys even really do just “friendships”? (That was supposed to be sort of funny and sarcastic by the way).

  Cady

  Fuck, fuck, fuck! My temper flares but, deep down, I know she’s right. I know that while I invited her for one visit, that wouldn’t be enough for either of us. As a woman, her heart would be involved. As a man, I’d never physically be satisfied with only seeing her a few times a year. The distance between us is a killer.

  To: Cady Dunne

  From: Zane Kavanaugh

  Subject: Guys Can Do Friendships

  Date: September 16, 2014

  This fucking sucks, but I get it. I think you’re right. I hate you’re right, but I admit that you are. You deserve more than that, and shit Cady… I deserve more than that too.

  We haven’t really talked about it before, but I’m not a relationship type of dude. I’m sure you wouldn’t be surprised though to learn that I’ve been enjoying “the single life” for the last few years. I never thought I’d really find someone that would want to make me settle down.

  The thing that really sucks is that I’m betting you would be that person. That is, if we didn’t live so far away from each other.

  To answer your question… yes, guys can do friendships. Well, at least this guy can. I want to stay in touch, continue what we have, even though it can’t be exactly what I want. Let’s go for it, I say.

  I’m going to log off for now. I have to get to the gym for a workout soon. Talk later.

  Zane

  P.S. You’re a hell of a woman, Cady Dunne.

  I purposely don’t mention the upcoming date she has. While every bone in my body is still infused with jealousy, I don’t have the right to let her know about it. Not when we just agreed we’d only be friends.

  Shutting my laptop, I lean back in my chair and pick up my apple. Taking another bite, I chew it thoughtfully, wondering what would happen if Cady lived here… in Phoenix. Would I truly give up the single life? All the beautiful and horny women that are in a never-ending supply around here?

  Yeah, I most definitely would. Cady absolutely outshines any woman I’ve been with. She’s sexy, adventurous, bright, and witty. Her family values and work ethic are in line with mine. We never seem to be at a loss for things to talk about. Even what others would see as the most boring details of her life are so fucking interesting to me for some reason.

  But that’s all fancy wishes on my part to even fantasize about it. Cady lives in Ireland. I live in the States. I can’t give up my hockey career, and she can’t give up her education… especially when we barely know each other.

  With a sigh, I get up from my desk, tossing the half-eaten apple in the garbage can. I tell myself that I’m letting this go, and I’m going to enjoy what I can about Cady.

  Chapter Seven

  Cady

  October

  “It’s getting late and I have an early appointment tomorrow, so I’m going to have to call it a night,” Colin says as he stands up from the couch where he’s sitting beside me.

  I rise up alongside of him, as do Renner and Cillian as they sit in the chairs on the other side of my coffee table. Colin reaches out to shake their hands.

  “It was nice meeting you both,” he says politely… in that clipped, English accent of his. “We should do this again some time.”

  Renner and Cillian both smile at him, but I can see the look deep down in their eyes. Oh, hell no, we aren’t doing this again, they both seem to be saying.

  With a sigh, I walk Colin to my front door and accept the dry kiss he presses to my cheek. I inhale, trying to appreciate the spicy scent of his cologne or the warmth in his brown eyes. I envision running my fingers through his curly, blond hair as a sign of affection, but my arm won’t move because in all actuality, it just doesn’t want to run my fingers through his hair. Because that’s way too intimate and even though I’ve seen Colin a few times since our first date, I’m not finding myself warming up to him.

  I close the door softly behind him and turn to see Cillian emerging from my kitchen with three bottles of Smithwick’s in his hands. He hands one to Renner and me, plopping back down in his chair.

  Flopping onto my couch, I take a long pull on my beer and lift my eyes to stare at them. Renner’s green eyes smirk at me, popping against the brilliant red, Irish hair she inherited from her mom and my aunt. Cillian just looks at me with interest, chewing on his bottom lip.

  “Go on,” I say with exasperation. “Just get it out.”

  “He’s nice,” Renner says amiably and takes a tiny sip of her beer.

  “Nice?” Cillian says as he swivels his head toward her in surprise. He’s growing his dark hair out again, which better fits with his rocker persona. I swear I think I saw Colin wrinkle his nose in distaste when he took in Cillian with his long hair, tattoos, and multiple facial piercings. “That guy’s a dolt. Boring with a capital ‘B’.”

  “Well, I was trying to be nice.” Renner giggles at Cillian and then turns to me. “Seriously, Cady… he is so not your type.”

  Sighing, I kick my feet up on my coffee table and pull at the label on my bottle of beer. “I know. I keep expecting my feelings to warm up toward him with each date, but nothing. I don’t feel a damn thing for him.”

  “Probably because you are feeling something for someone else,” Cillian says matter of factly.

  “Not true,” I immediately deny out loud, even though I know he’s hit the nail on the head.

  “So true,” he affirms. “You got hot hockey player on the brain, Cady girl.”

  “Just admit it,” Renner says with a smirk. “We all know it’s true.”

  And because these are two of the closest people to me, outside of Teagan, I decide not to lie to them. “Fine. It’s true. So what?”

  Neither Renner nor Cillian say anything, just watch me with intense interest.

  “What?” I exclaim. “You’re just going to out me like that and then offer no advice?”

  Cillian leans forward in his chair and places his beer bottle on my coffee table. His eyes look at me seriously. “You need to find a way to get over him, Cady. He’s there… you’re here. There’s nothing to pine over. It’s not going to work.”

  I’m surprised when Renner reaches over and slaps Cillian on the arm. He yelps and shrinks back from her, gingerly rubbing his skin.

  “What the hell was that for?” he asks with a grimace on his handsome face.

  “You’re telling her to give up. You never do that. Not when love is involved,” she says primly. Turning to look at me, she says, “You need to figure out a way to make it work.”

  “Whoa, wait,” I say, holding my hand out and sitting up straight on the couch. “Who said anything about love? I don’t love Zane.”

  “Maybe not,” Renner clarifies. “But you have feelings for him, right?”

  Sinking back down with another dejected sigh, I admit, “Yeah. I do. But as Cillian pointed out… I’m here—he’s there. Can’t work.”

  “Let’s back up a minute,” Cillian says, leaning further away from Renner in case she decides to slap him again. “I don’t get how you can really have feelings for him. You spent one night together.”

  That’s true enough. I spent one night with Zane and although no one knows the gritty details, Renner, Cillian, and Teagan all know that we were intimate with each other.

  “We�
�ve stayed in contact since then. We email each other every day, and we talk on the phone. He called last night, and we talked for two hours.”

  “Sounds romantic,” Renner says dreamily.

  “Sounds unsatisfying,” Cillian grumbles. “You can’t have a relationship with someone if you can’t be physically with them.”

  “I disagree,” Renner says. “Sex isn’t everything.”

  Cillian does nothing more than turn his head slowly toward Renner, cocking his eyebrow at her. She holds his gaze for a moment, and then lowers her eyes in defeat.

  “What I’m saying,” Cillian continues as he turns back to look at me, “is that you need the physical side to maintain true intimacy.”

  “Otherwise, all we are is just good friends,” I finish for him, because he’s not telling me anything I don’t already know.

  These past several weeks have gone by quickly. I’ve been immersed in my studies and spending my free time hanging with my friends. That means going out to pubs or shows with Teagan, Renner, and Cillian, but that also means emailing or talking to Zane on the phone.

  Since we agreed that we could only be friends, Zane stayed true to his word and did prove to me that guys can indeed have friendships. We have continued to grow closer and closer, forming a bond over exchanged words, memories, stories, thoughts, and philosophies. One night, we talked for over an hour on the concept of euthanasia, brought on by Zane telling me about one of his uncles that died last year after having suffered for months with terminal cancer. I’ve never talked about something like that with anyone in my life, particularly because we disagreed on the moral issues. But it was one of the deepest connections I’ve ever made with someone… talking about life, death, and pain.

  It made me ache to get even closer to Zane, but the only way to make that happen at this point is for me to see him in person. And we both know that’s not happening.

  “Listen, Cady-girl,” Cillian says as he stands up from his chair. “I know this sucks for you, but you either need to accept that Zane is just a friend, or you need to cut him loose completely. You’ll never get out and find your soul mate as long as you’re still yearning for him.”

  “Or just accept he’s your soul mate and do something about it,” Renner chimes in.

  I open my mouth to say, He’s not my soul mate, but then snap it shut just as quickly. I don’t know what Zane is to me, but I know he’s so much more than just a friend. I just haven’t figured out how to reconcile that.

  Cillian and Renner stay for another beer, and we thankfully move on to another topic. I sit back on the couch and watch as Renner and Cillian argue about whether Renner should get a job or stay free to be able to tour with Cillian’s band. It’s an argument I’ve been privy to before, but I’ve always wisely kept my opinion to myself. I know, as a modern woman, Renner wants to work and contribute financially, but I also know she’d be miserable without Cillian. She should just do herself a favor and commit to going out on tour with him.

  After they’re gone, I complete my nightly ritual. I wash my face, apply moisturizer, and brush my teeth. Making myself a cup of hot tea, I place it on my nightstand beside my bed, where I’ll sip at it while reading Zane’s latest email.

  No matter where he is or what he’s doing, he always has an email or a text waiting for me before I go to bed. I’m not sure how he quite swings it with his busy schedule, particularly since he has started his regular hockey season, but it’s almost always there.

  Yes, our emails, texts, or calls have turned into almost daily conversations. Sometimes, one of us will miss a day, or it may only be a short message, but it’s something I look forward to more than I care to admit.

  To: Cady Dunne

  From: Zane Kavanaugh

  Subject: You Are Just Too Much

  Date: October 29, 2014

  I’m getting ready to head out to the airport to catch the team plane soon, but had to get off this email so it would be waiting for you when you went to sleep. I got your package in the mail today and as my subject line says, “You are just too much.” I seriously cannot believe you sent me that hat. Where in the fuck did you find it, first of all, and second… why would you buy something so hideous? I am now on the hunt to outdo you, so be expecting something in the mail soon.

  Gotta go. I assume you’re going to watch tomorrow’s game since it will broadcast early evening there, right? I’m not sure why, but I think I play better when I know you’re watching me.

  Yours,

  Zane

  I take a moment, bringing my fingers to my lips to feel the curve of the silly smile on my face. I think about the hat that I sent Zane, and then I start to snicker to myself.

  Week before last, Zane scored a hat trick against the Rangers. I’ve come to learn a lot about hockey since meeting him, and I’ve been fortunate that Setanta Sports broadcasts live NHL games, and even more fortunate that Da carries that package at his pub, The Hibernian. I’ve watched as many of Zane’s games that I can, sending him texts with my thoughts as I cheer him on from Ireland.

  When he scored a hat trick, I had no clue what that was, but a quick Google search on my phone yielded the answer. That night, I found the perfect gift to congratulate him, and had it shipped directly to his house. It was a black velvet top hat… the kind you see magicians wearing. Perched on top was a deranged-looking, white, stuffed rabbit whose eyes looked slightly maniacal and whose buckteeth hung halfway down its chest. When you pushed on his belly, he squeaked out, “Abracadabra,” and then giggled hysterically.

  He clearly enjoyed my gag gift, but that’s not what’s making me smile.

  I’m smiling in a wholly satisfied way because of the way he signed off on the email.

  Yours,

  Zane

  Yours.

  I liked that a lot.

  Chapter Eight

  Zane

  November

  “Dude… what the fuck is your problem? I think you need to see the team doctor,” Niko says as he takes a sip of his beer. He has a gorgeous brunette perched on his lap, and his hand is inching its way up her leg. She doesn’t seem to mind but rather spreads her legs apart a bit.

  “The team doctor?” I ask blandly, and then drain the last of my beer. Raising my hand toward our waitress who is walking by, I try to catch her attention that I want another but, sadly, she ignores me.

  “Yeah… I think your pecker is broken or something. You don’t seem to be interested in the ladies anymore.”

  Snorting internally, I reach into my wallet to pull out some cash for when she comes back by. I don’t bother answering Niko because I know he’s just busting my chops.

  He dislodges the girl from his lap, and she walks off toward the bar. Leaning in toward me, he whispers. “Wait a minute? Are you gay or something? Is that why you haven’t been fucking around with women anymore?”

  I quirk an eyebrow at Niko and give him a smirk. “Not gay, dude.”

  “Then seriously… what’s the deal? You hardly ever go out anymore, and when you do, you spend most of your time on that phone of yours.”

  He’s talking about my obsessive checking of my emails and texts, waiting for Cady to respond to my latest and greatest. Our chatter back and forth is almost constant now, and while we don’t talk on the phone as much as we email and text, it’s still amazing conversation all of the time.

  “I haven’t been going out a lot because I’ve been trying to cut down on my drinking. I’m in the best shape of my life, playing the best hockey of my career. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

  “Fine,” Niko says as his eyes dart around the little bar that we frequent when we’re back in Phoenix. It’s always been a place that we could come to and easily score a quick fuck if that’s what we wanted. “But it still doesn’t explain why the few times we do go out, you leave all alone. You thinking of becoming a priest or something?”

  “No, dude,” I say with exasperation, my fingers itching to pull my phone out and send a quick text t
o Cady. “Just not interested right now.”

  “You’re not interested in pussy?” Niko asks skeptically.

  “No,” I say, and then correct myself. “Yes. I mean, I’m interested in pussy, just not the type here.”

  “Then let’s go somewhere where there is your type,” he says as he stands up from the table. He’s swaying slightly so I know he’s on the verge of a rip-roaring drunk fest.

  For a split second, I consider what he’s saying. I told him I’m not interested in anything here because I’m only interested in one girl that lives across the Atlantic Ocean. But as I look around the darkened bar, with the jukebox blaring some country song I don’t recognize, I realize there are several gorgeous women here that look like they’d be great fucks.

  B.C.—that’s Before Cady—I wouldn’t have left this bar without one of them on my arm. Hell, sometimes I would have just taken them in the back alley and fucked them up against the wall.

  A.C.—that’s After Cady—I haven’t fucked a single woman, and my balls have turned the color of a Smurf.

  Not sure why I’m imposing this bit of celibacy on myself because Cady and I don’t have anything more than a friendship. She would not expect me to abstain, and fuck… she’s still seeing that douchebag Colin, the architect. While she doesn’t share a ton of details with me, she’s let it slip a time or two when they’ve gone out to dinner or for drinks. It fucking burns me up and makes me want to go screw my way through North America, but I haven’t yet.

  And that’s only because my gut instinct tells me that she hasn’t been intimate with him. I have no proof of that, but I don’t think Cady likes him in that way. Hell, I’m not sure she likes him at all, or otherwise she’d tell me more about him, right?