11. Renee

It’s almost midnight when I look at the clock. I’m utterly wiped. My eyes are burnt-out coals in their sockets and if I hear the phrase “odd-man rush” one more time, I’m going to jump off the balcony.

But here’s the worst thing I learned: Weston Scott is good.

He’s, like, really, really good. I delayed watching his film for as long as possible, but eventually, I had no choice. And as soon as I hit play, he leapt right off the screen.

It’s competence porn, pure and simple. The man has this brutal grace to him that at one point literally made my mouth water. He’s a snarling beast on the ice. He’s fast. He’s aggressive. He’s certain.

I didn’t know that someone’s personality could be reflected so totally in the way they played their sport. But it’s all out there for anyone to see. The same man who sneered down at me after I tripped over the vacuum cord is sneering at his opponents as he checks them into the boards or pours goal after goal after goal into their net.

I shudder. Of all the things I wanted to learn tonight, that was at the very bottom of my list. I did get through other stuff. I’ve been through the hockey textbook four times over now and I’m starting to grasp the finer details of what makes the game tick.

But right now, I need a break. I’m brushing my hair before bed when my computer chimes.

It’s Sutton on a video call. I click Accept and then slump back against the sofa with my laptop balanced on my knees.

“Bonjour, mon amour!” She waves at the camera. “How’s it going? How’s the job?”

It’s so good to hear her voice. I could almost cry.

I rub my tired eyes. “Oh, I could tell you stories and it’s only been one day. Job is good, though. I really like Michelle and Danni—those are my bosses. And Decker is super cool. He’s a player, one of the veterans. Seems like he looks out for everyone in the building.”

“Ahh, I love it! I’m so glad you’ve found your people. Speaking of which, have you met Jackson and Weston yet?” She wrinkles her nose. “In case you haven’t, tread lightly. Weston is a dick. I’ve lived there for a while and he hasn’t said ten words to me. We’re fucking neighbors, right? Sometimes, we even ride the elevator down together. And it’s like The Silence of the Lambs in there.”

“Yeah, he and Jackson seem to be polar opposites. Jackson is a real Chatty Cathy.”

“So, you’ve met Jackson, too. That’s good.” She clicks her tongue against her teeth. “He’s cool. Mostly sweet. Kind of a player, so be aware. But he and Weston haaate each other. West almost threw Jackson out a window once. I think it was over a woman. I don’t know the details.”

I grimace, mostly to cover up how my heart does jealous little squiggles over the thought of another woman waltzing into Weston’s apartment. “Doesn’t that just figure. Two pretty boys in one place is never a good thing. Too much testosterone breeds dirty play.”

“Ooh, so you think they’re pretty, hm?”

“Sutton…”

She holds up her hands and grins devilishly. “I’m just askin’ questions! You’re the one who said it. Is this you building your man harem? Or just your fantasy file?”

She’s always on me to be more love-life proactive, to see what I want and take it. I’ve done okay, but Sutton is an experience the world kind of girl, and she thinks no experience is wasted time. She also believes we should have as many experiences as we can stuff into a day. Or, more accurately, into a night.

I yawn, both because I’m tired and because I don’t want her to see me blushing. “I don’t know yet. What I do know is that I’m a one-man kind of woman. So definitely no harem for me.”

“Boo. No fun. The more the merrier, I always say.”

“Not to mention,” I continue over her giggles, “one of them is uber grumpy; the other one is kind of slick. Like, greasy, you know?”

“Grease can be fun! It doesn’t make you want to do things with him? Or let him do things to you?”

I shake my head. “Jackson is nicer, that’s for damnsure. No competition there. I just…”

“Yeah, but you like assholes. You always have.” She shrugs. “It’s your thing. If we put a hundred nice guys in a room and one dickhead, you’re beelining for the latter.” She pauses. “Need I remind you of Felix?”

I know she’s right, as per usual. But that doesn’t mean that I have to like hearing it. “Ugh.” I lean back and look up at the ceiling. “Why can’t I just find a nice guy, settle down, and have my two point five kids, a chocolate Labrador, maybe a two-story Victorian close to a good school?”

“You would be bored out of your noggin, NayNay.” She laughs. “You need the angst. It flies your flag.”

“I hate how well you know me.”

“Get used to it, baby, ‘cause you’re stuck with me.” She pauses and purses her lips. “I do have one other observation.”

I roll my eyes and fake another huge yawn. “Oh my, is it that time already? Jeez, I better be getting off to bed…”

“Sit right there and listen, missy,” she orders playfully. Her mouth twitches from one side to the other. “My other observation is that maybe you just need to get laid properly. Not like Four-Pump-Felix or any of those other rotten assholes you’ve been with who take theirs and leave you hanging.”

“I take it you have suggestions?”

She leans in like we’re actually in the same room and nods. “Of course I do.” I love when she’s in a good mood. Sometimes, the pressure of her life weighs on her, especially after she’s been on location for a while. We’re early enough in the production process of her movie that she’s still doing okay.

“And?”

She cocks her head and grins. “I hear that Jackson is a good time.”

“From who?”

Ignoring me, she adds, “I also happen to know that Mr. Scott must know his way around a clitoris. Our bedrooms share a wall and, while they are well-insulated, I’ve heard some… things.” She sits bolt upright with an “aha” grin on her face. “You’re blushing! Have you heard something?”

“No!” I shake my head probably a bit too eagerly. “Not a thing.”

“Hm. Fine. But you just know a guy like that is packing heat. And, from the sounds of it, he knows how to use it.”

I sigh and go fully horizontal. My eyes are starting to flutter closed of their own accord. Best friend or not, I’m not going to be awake for much longer.

“Tell me about the movie,” I murmur sleepily, changing the subject. “I want to live vicariously through you.”

She scrunches up her face and sticks her tongue out like she’s going to throw up. “We shot the kissing scene this morning and Dalton Rowe”—this year’s Hollywood golden boy, her new co-star—“smokes.”

“Oh, God. I’m so sorry.”

She shrugs. “It’s okay. I ate a tuna salad sandwich for breakfast this morning. And I’ll eat one every day until he quits smoking. Revenge is a dish best served with onions and mayo.”

“You’re evil.” I laugh because that is the most Sutton thing she could do. “Atta girl.”

She tells me more about all things Paris as she does her makeup and gets dressed for a late night out. When she’s done, she gives me a full twirl and bats her eyelashes for good measure.

“How do I look?”

I give her a thumbs up. “Like you’re about to take on the world and win.”

“Parfait!” she exclaims in French. “Okay, I have to go now, my love. But my last comment is that if you get a chance with either one of your bad boy neighbors, I say take it. Life’s too short not to get your rocks off. That’s all. Love you, au revoir, girls rule, boys drool!”

The video call winks to black. I close my laptop and set it on the coffee table, then I do the same thing.

But even when I go to sleep, all I dream of is a green-eyed giant on skates.