One-Timer (Carolina Comets), page 10
I’m curious as hell how the unfiltered version of Hollis is handling all of this. One minute I’m fine, the next I’m mildly freaking out. If I’m this back and forth, I can’t imagine how she’s feeling with the whole mix of hormones on top of it.
He doesn’t get the chance to answer, because Coach puts us out on the ice. Rhodes and Collin pair up as per usual, and I fly by them, heading over for a pass we’ve practiced a thousand times. The puck hits just where I need it to, then I send it over to Smith, who taps it back as he tries to fight off Florida’s man.
They’re so preoccupied with defending against Smith they don’t even realize I have the puck until the last minute, and by then it’s too late. I bury it past their goalie, and the small crowd here at home goes nuts.
Sticks go in the air, and Smith smacks his glove against mine in celebration.
“Nice pass, man.”
“Nah. That was all you.” He’s always so modest about his skills, but we all know he wouldn’t still be playing in the NHL at his age if he didn’t have the grit he does.
We clamber back onto the bench, catching our breaths, ready for our next run.
“Hey.” Collin leans into me, his eyes locked on his defensemen. “What you said before? About if what she says about you is good or bad?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s good, man.”
I needed to hear that more than I thought I did.
“Good. That’s…good.”
“But I swear, if you hurt her, you’re dead.”
He doesn’t have to be looking at me for me to know he’s serious.
“I don’t plan on it.”
And that’s the truth.
You can’t hurt what you don’t touch.
11
HOLLIS & LOWELL
Lowell: I told Coach today.
Hollis: Did he freak?
Lowell: Only about the due date.
Hollis: What’s wrong with the due date?
Lowell: We really need to talk about your lack of hockey knowledge.
Lowell: April is playoffs.
Hollis: Oh. And those are important?
Lowell: …
Hollis: I’m kidding!
Hollis: I know it’s important because it determines the Super Bowl winner.
Lowell: I…I can’t. I just can’t.
Hollis: What? Something wrong? *bats lashes*
Lowell: I know you’re just teasing, but words hurt, Hollis. They really, really hurt.
Lowell: I’m going to make it my sole mission to make you love hockey before this baby gets here.
Hollis: We’ll see about that.
Lowell: How are you feeling?
Hollis: Fine.
Lowell: Just fine?
Hollis: I have a human growing inside of me that’s depleting all my energy and making me a hormonal psycho.
Hollis: HOW DO YOU THINK I’M DOING?!
Lowell: Fine.
Hollis: You really don’t need to keep checking in on me every day.
Lowell: It’s MY human growing inside of you that’s depleting all your energy and making you a hormonal psycho.
Lowell: Do you really think I’m not going to be checking in on you?
Hollis: Ugh. Fine. I get it.
Lowell: Thank you. And you’re welcome.
Hollis: Welcome for what? This alien inside of me?
Lowell: Yes. But also for checking in on you.
Hollis: Please. Do NOT act like you’re doing ME a favor. This is all your fault.
Lowell: It takes two.
Hollis: Lowell…
Hollis: Please. I’m tired. I can’t take any more sparring today.
Lowell: Can you just let me know if you actually keep some food down?
Hollis: The doctor said it was fine and I shouldn’t be worried.
Lowell: Okay. Then I’ll worry for the both of us.
Lowell: Just text me, you stubborn woman, okay?
Hollis: Fine.
Lowell: Stop saying fine.
Hollis: Okay…
Hollis: Fine.
Lowell: Calliope
Hollis: No.
Lowell: Good.
Lowell: I hate that name.
Hollis: Then why did you suggest it?
Lowell: Just making sure we’re on the same page.
Hollis: Speaking of page…
Hollis: What about Paige?
Lowell: I’m…indifferent.
Hollis: *eye-roll emoji*
Hollis: Of course you are.
Lowell: I have suggested no less than five names to you this week and this is the first time I’ve rejected one of yours and I get an OF COURSE?!
Lowell: Also, please note it wasn’t an outright no. I just said I’m indifferent.
Hollis: That basically means no.
Lowell: *blinks*
Hollis: *blinks faster*
Lowell: *blinks hard AND faster*
Hollis: It’s really rude of you to argue with a pregnant woman, you know. It causes stress for the baby.
Lowell: Leave her out of this.
Hollis: Or him.
Hollis: We still don’t know yet.
Lowell: It’s a girl. I can feel it.
Hollis: Oh, can you? Can you feel it? Even when it’s not inside your body stealing all of your comfort and joy?
Lowell: Someone is a bit dramatic, no?
Lowell: Would it bring you joy if I had some food delivered?
Hollis: It would bring me joy if you left me alone.
Hollis: And sent a cheeseburger.
Lowell: You still pissed?
Hollis: Yes.
Lowell: Why?
Hollis: A SALAD, LOWELL. You sent me a salad. That’s just…wrong. On many levels.
Lowell: One, I sent a salad because YOU were the one complaining about weight gain on the phone the other night.
Lowell: Two, I was reading a baby book and they said greasy foods probably aren’t the best to consume. They’re hard to digest. I did you a favor.
Hollis: Well, do me another favor—don’t do me any more favors!
Lowell: That’s a very counterproductive request, don’t you think?
Hollis: Remember when I told you I didn’t like you?
Lowell: Yes.
Hollis: Well, somehow, I like you even less today.
Lowell: I’ll remember that for when I happen across a drive-thru and don’t order you any ice cream.
Hollis: You wouldn’t dare.
Lowell: Sorry. I can’t text. I’m busy ordering food.
Hollis: Shut up and get me chocolate.
Hollis: NO! Swirl.
Hollis: Wait. Chocolate.
Hollis: Lowell?
Lowell: This is an automated message. The person you are trying to reach is currently in the drive-thru waiting on one small ice cream for nobody else but himself. Please try again later.
Hollis: I hate you.
Lowell: You wish.
Hollis: Sucks you guys lost tonight.
Lowell: You watched the game?
Hollis: No. Harper did.
Hollis: I just happened to be there.
Lowell: You totally watched.
Hollis: Did not. I don’t even like hockey, remember?
Lowell: Take that back.
Hollis: It’s boring.
Lowell: Hollis…
Hollis: And slow.
Lowell: Slow?! Are you kidding me? I can literally skate faster than the speed limit in my neighborhood!
Lowell: I can’t believe I’m having a baby with a hockey hater. I’m so ashamed of myself.
Hollis: You are not.
Lowell: You’re right. But I should be.
Lowell: Did you know that our baby is the size of a pair of baby booties?
Lowell: Whatever those are.
Hollis: Are you looking at baby websites again?
Lowell: Yes. Since I’m not there, I like to know what you’re experiencing.
Hollis: That’s…actually kind of sweet.
Lowell: I know.
Lowell: It’s also still smaller than the average dick, but I’ll have to let Miller know that the baby is catching up to him fast.
Hollis: Umm…excuse me?
Hollis: Like a penis?
Lowell: Yeah.
Hollis: Did you just compare our child to a penis? A PENIS?
Lowell: Again, yeah.
Hollis: How… What… Why do you know the size of the average dick?
Lowell: All guys know it instinctually.
Lowell: It’s a thing. Trust me.
Lowell: Speaking of…how do we feel about Dick?
Hollis: I take it back. You’re not sweet.
Lowell: I’m guessing Richard is out of the question, then, too?
Lowell: Hollis?
Lowell: Fine. I’ll stop. But it’s going to be really HARD to do.
Hollis: If you think I’m above kneeing you in the balls, I’m not.
Lowell: Oh, I am very well aware of all the pain you enjoy inflicting on me.
Hollis: Good. Now remember that the next time you compare our child to a penis.
12
HOLLIS
“So, are you excited about your first professional hockey game?”
Not that I’d admit it to him anytime soon, but Lowell’s project to make me love hockey by the time the baby gets here is actually moving along a lot faster than I thought it would.
Though I do think I owe more of the credit to Harper than I do to him. She’s been making me watch all the preseason games and explaining everything to me. I still don’t really understand it, but I will admit it’s fun to watch.
“I…think so?”
I look around the big, nearly empty arena with wide eyes. Most people are still milling about the concourse buying merch and filling up on beer and food before warm-ups begin. This place is huge, and I can’t believe it’s about to be packed with 20,000 screaming hockey fans.
I’m proud of myself for keeping my hormones in check because I’ve only had to excuse myself to the bathroom one time for crying when I came across a little girl with dark hair and pigtails who had LOWELL and the number 55 stitched across her back. She was so cute, and all I could think was… That could be mine.
“Just wait until the game starts. You’re going to totally fall in love with it then,” my sister says. “I didn’t think I’d ever be into it, and now I love it.”
I want to point out that she most likely loves it so much because her husband plays, but I don’t.
“And it’s going to make you so horny,” Ryan adds. “Like, unbelievably so. Your sex drive is probably already off the charts, so I bet by the time we get done with this game, you are going to want to climb your man like a pole.”
I’m a little surprised by how right she is about my sex drive being totally off the charts. I have woken up no less than four times this week from very vivid sex dreams—so vivid I’ve had to get myself off each time or else there was no way I was going to be able to go back to sleep. I know they say some women’s sexual desires can be really intense during pregnancy, but I did not expect it to be that intense.
Just like I did not expect the star of my dreams to be Lowell, but oh has he been the star.
The most frustrating part of it all is that no matter how hot my dreams are, they still pale in comparison to the real thing, and that’s something I have to live with every day.
“He’s not my man.”
Ryan and Harper look at each other and do very little to conceal their smirks.
“He’s not my man,” I insist, annoyed by their smiles. “There is nothing remotely relationship-y or intimate happening between us. We’re just friends.”
“Much to your vagina’s dismay, I’m sure. I bet it would love to be dicked down by him.”
“Ryan!” Harper hisses, looking around to make sure nobody heard her.
“Sorry. Ignore me. Hockey makes me horny, and I’m not even the pregnant one. It’s just so”—she shimmies her shoulders—“hot.”
“She always gets like this during the game,” Harper explains. “I swear, she and Rhodes go at it like rabbits when it’s over.”
“I can definitely confirm that, but don’t you dare sit there judging me like that when you know you and Collin do the same.”
Harper’s cheeks stain red, not denying it at all.
“Can we please stop talking about sex? Ryan was right—my libido is a little nuts right now and I can’t do anything about it, so hush.”
“Why can’t you do anything?”
I point to my stomach. “Um, hello.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Who is going to want to sleep with a pregnant woman?”
“Um, probably your baby daddy.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’m not sleeping with Lowell.”
“Why? Scared he’ll get you pregnant?”
I roll my eyes. “No. I’m not sleeping with him because he got me pregnant.”
“Okay…” She draws the word out, clearly confused.
I sigh. “I can’t sleep with him because we’re not together, Harper. Yes, he got me pregnant, but we’re not dating or anything.”
“Remind me again why you’re not.”
“Because he doesn’t do serious.”
“I’d say having a baby together is pretty serious, Hollis.”
“You’re right. It is—but it’s not like this was planned. We weren’t even supposed to see each other again.”
“But now you are seeing each other again and you’re pregnant with his baby.”
“Yeah…”
“So, then, what’s the big deal if you sleep together? You’re not going to hook up with other people while you’re pregnant, are you?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Okay. Then…”
“Then what?”
“Then ride that dick while you can!” Ryan says.
Harper hitches her thumb toward Ryan. “Yeah, what she said.”
“I… Okay. I’ll take that into consideration.”
I won’t take it into consideration though. Lowell and I haven’t really talked about our relationship or exactly how it is we’re going to raise this baby, but I don’t think we need to. He was clear from the start—he doesn’t want a relationship. He already made the mistake of throwing himself into something he wasn’t entirely ready for once, and he got hurt. He’s not going to make that same mistake again.
The roar of the crowd pulls our attention, and Comets start spilling out for warm-ups, starting with their goalie. They step onto the ice one by one and skate in circles on the half of the rink closest to us.
Collin and Rhodes almost immediately come over to right in front of where we’re sitting, and it is absolutely adorable to watch Harper and Ryan fangirl over their husbands while wearing their numbers on their back.
A sudden rush of jealousy rises in me. I don’t understand what it means or where it’s coming from, so I push it down and pretend it never happened, then focus my attention back to the ice.
I take it all in, absolutely mesmerized by everything that’s happening. I have no idea how they are all successfully ignoring the people beating on the glass and trying to get their attention with signs and screams and everything else while also warming up for the game. How they’re blocking it out, I have no clue, but it’s impressive.
Even though I’ve only seen pictures of him in uniform and probably couldn’t pick him out if I tried, I know the moment Lowell steps onto the ice because the Comets fans go nuts for their captain.
But he doesn’t pay any attention to them.
No.
He looks at me.
In fact, he skates right over to me and stands at the glass, that stupid grin of his that is really starting to grow on me firmly in place. He tips his head and mouths one word: Good?
I nod, loving that even when he’s supposed to be focusing on his game, he’s worried about me and the baby.
His grin widens, satisfied with that answer. His eyes drift down the front of me, lingering on my chest and then my belly—both of which are starting to grow—before he drags his gaze back up to my face. His stare has me wiggling against my seat.
He taps the glass twice with the end of his stick, then skates away.
I can feel eyes on me, and I turn to find Harper staring holes into the side of my head.
“What?” I ask.
She smiles, shaking her head slowly before turning her attention back to the ice.
