“She called you, huh?” Brandon says, quietly, looking lost and forlorn as he avoids my gaze, but it’s too late. I already saw his dilated pupils, and yeah, I’m mad—at him and myself.
“Who, Naomi?”
“Who else?”
“No, she didn’t call me.”
“What are you doing here then?”
Dammit, I can’t tell him I was hanging around outside to see how their date was going, or that I was fighting down waves of jealousy and envy. “I was walking by and saw Naomi leave, and her dress was soaked. When you didn’t surface, and I saw you sitting here with your head down, I came in to see if you were okay, and clearly, you’re not.” I put my arm under his and help him up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Tell you what? That I drank too much?”
“Save it, B. I’m not an idiot.”
“I never said you were.” He reaches for his wallet. “I need to pay the bill.”
“I got it. You can pay me back later.” I pull open my wallet and toss some bills on the table. His lids fall a little more as I guide him outside, and we slowly walk back to his place. “I should be walking you straight to a clinic,” I grumble, angry that I hadn’t noticed his condition earlier. “But I know you wouldn’t go.” If he hid this from me, and we don’t keep secrets—okay well, I have a big one that he doesn’t know about—then he’s not going to get checked out by a doctor.
“I just need to lay down for a few minutes, then I’ll be fine.”
“Fine, my ass.”
“Are you saying you have a fine ass?” He tries to look over my shoulders and I smack him—gently. “Oh, maybe you’re saying I have a fine ass.’
“Not funny.”
He snorts. “What happened to your sense of humor?”
“It died with your concussion.”
His face twists up in that adorable way that always gets to me, and softens me when I’m mad. “Shit, Daise…don’t say anything.”
“I won’t,” I assure him. He has enough to worry about. “For now.” If he doesn’t get better, it’s not a promise I can keep.
I use the key he gave me ages ago to let us in, and I stay by his side as I walk him up the stairs and into his bedroom. He plops on his bed, and puts his forearm over his head and I let my gaze move down his long stretched out body. Okay, now is not the time to be admiring my best friend’s physique. Not when he just bungled a date he was really looking forward to and is laid up with a head injury.
Any other time, sure, fine. Just not tonight.
I walk to his closet and close the door tightly. I have a weird thing about open closet doors when going to sleep, thanks to all the scary movies Brandon, Chase and the others made me watch.
“Still afraid of the boogeyman?” he teases.
“Careful, B. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that you should always be nice to the girl who’s taking care of you…and cooking for you.”
“Hey, when aren’t I nice to you? Wait, you’re going to cook for me? You hate cooking.”
I just laugh and untie his shoes and tug them off. His socks are next and I’m not a foot person, but his toes are kind of cute. He falls quiet. “You okay?”
“I really fucked it up with Naomi, didn’t I?”
“If she’s who you really want, I’ll talk to her.” He goes quiet again, and I glance at him. “She’s who you want, right?” Why on earth am I holding my breath, hoping he gives me a different answer.
“Yeah,” he mumbles.
“You need some rest.” I pull his blinds closed, and darken the room. “Can you get undressed or do you need me to help?”
“Help, please.”
I huff like undressing the hottest man on the planet is a hardship. It’s not. I pop the button on his pants, and his boxers start sliding down with the pants as I tug. I try not to stare at his delicious oblique muscles or the light trail of hair that leads to the promised land. Except I’m one of the few women on campus who has yet to find great happiness in Brandon’s garden of Eden, and it’s likely to never happen in the future either.
I get his pants off, leaving him in his boxer shorts and he just lays there waiting for me to unbutton his shirt. “I know you’re not that useless, B.”
“Fine.”
He starts unbuttoning at the top and I start at the bottom and I try not to react every time my knuckles brush his hard muscles. There’s nothing I can do however, to keep the heat he’s stirring up inside me, from flushing my cheeks. I’m glad it’s dark in the room.
Once I have him naked, save for his boxers. I lift the blankets. “Get in.”
He shifts on the bed, and I’m about to cover him when his strong arm wraps around my body and he pulls me down.
“You have to stay.”
I land with a thud, and he turns me, his body a big spoon to my little spoon, and I’m pretty sure I no longer know how to breathe. I close my eyes, not wanting to think about how many women he’s had in this bed—and how it was never me.
“Why do I have to stay?”
“Come on, you’re the doctor.”
“Not yet,” I remind him and try to move but he wiggles against me to hold me closer and I like it, a lot.
“Remember when they were worried Kennedy’s daughter had a concussion and they had to check on her every few hours.”
“I remember.”
“Come on, help a friend out, Daise…” God, when he says it like that. “I need someone to check on me…”
Once again his words remind me that I’ll forever be friend zoned. “As your very best friend, I’ll keep an eye on you and keep your secret, unless it gets worse and you need real medical attention.”
“Thanks, Duke.”
“Shouldn’t we at least make a pillow wall?” I wait for an answer, but the room falls silent and a moment later his breath is warm on my neck as his breathing slows and he drifts off to sleep. I exhale and since my body is a jittery mess of nerves, I practice breathing exercises and will myself to fall asleep. Like that’s going to happen. The hottest guy on the planet is half naked behind me, with his arm around me, and I’m supposed to play it casual.
Not that I’d know what to do if he wanted to have sex. I mean I know a thing or two—in theory. God, how am I still a virgin? Oh, probably because the only guy I’ve ever wanted has never wanted me in return, and every other guy has paled in comparison. I’m going to have to work extra hard to get him together with Naomi. Once he’s in a serious, committed relationship, maybe it will knock some sense into me and help me move on.
He makes a noise in his sleep and moves closer. Wait is that… OMG!! He’s sticking me with his…parts. Well, one part in particular. He’s clearly having some amazing dream, and I’m pretty sure I’m not the star of it. I try to move away as his erection grows and nestles against my backside. Wow, it’s kind of impressive really. Not that I have anything to compare it to—in real life anyway. Okay, fine, I’ve watched a bit of porn on my laptop, until I got a virus and almost died when the technician chuckled quietly to himself, knowing exactly what I’d been up to.
Where’s a pillow wall when you need it?
I shift, and ever so slowly, slide out from beneath his arm and set it on my pillow. I tuck him in, and tip toe to his desk chair. I drop into it, checking my phone to find a dozen or so messages from Naomi. She really wasn’t impressed tonight, telling me Brandon showed up drunk and was taking pills.
I glance around the dark room, my stomach tight. I promised I’d keep his secret and I can’t tell her what’s really going on. Instead, I message her back and let her know he wasn’t himself tonight and that he’s a really good guy. I ask if she’ll give him another chance and she answers that she’ll think about it.
As I consider that, I think about ways I can help Brandon get his girl. At first, he asked me to pretend to be his girlfriend to show Naomi not all hockey players are jerks who sleep around. I decided against it, and took a different path, and simply built him up in her eyes, but now, after he screwed up the date, maybe I went about it all wrong. I should be fake dating him, teaching him how to treat a lady and that he should reschedule when he’s ill, and dizzy with a concussion, to avoid disaster like tonight.
I do a quick search on my phone, once again convinced I’m a masochist, but go ahead with my plan anyway. Once that’s done, I turn on my flashlight app, grab the book Brandon lent me, and settle in to read.
An hour passes and I stand, about to check on Brandon when he moans and jackknifes up. “Daisy,” he begs his voice thick and deep. Everything inside me goes on high alert, and I drop my book and aim my flashlight app at him. “Jesus, don’t.”
Instantly realizing the light might have made things worse for him, I shine it on the floor and hurry to him. “Are you okay?”
He gulps. “Bathroom.”
I help him off the bed, and he leans on me as I rush him from his bedroom, hurrying him down the hall to the bathroom. I’m about to flick the light on and stop. Instead, I shine my light on the floor to guide his way. He drops down onto his knees in front of the toilet, and starts vomiting. Worry wells up inside me. I sink to the floor next to him and rub his back. Thank God he has the next week off. If he doesn’t improve, he’ll have to seek proper medical help.
He groans and goes back on his heels. I jump up, flush the toilet, and race to the kitchen to get him water and grab a cloth from the hall closet. He’s on the floor, knees bent, his back against the wall when I come back.
“Hey,” he groans, his voice tired, and low.
“Rinse your mouth.” He takes the glass, rinses his mouth, spits, and when he settles against the wall again, I press the cold cloth to his forehead and flush a second time.
“That feels good.” He leaves the cloth on his head and tilts his face upward. “You don’t have to stay. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“I’m your best friend, doing what best friends do, so shut up already.”
A long, silent moment passes, and he turns to me. I reach out and adjust the cloth on his forehead. “I have to play, Daisy. You know that.”
My heart squeezes tight. I realize the pressures he has on him, the pressures he puts on himself. It’s not easy being the children of NHL superstars. Less expectations were put on me because I’m a girl—ridiculous, I know—but for Chase and Brandon and all the other guys in our NHL family circle, life is hard.
“You’ll play, Brandon. I’ll make sure of it. That’s why I’m flying to Washington with you tomorrow.”
His eyes go wide as surprise registers on his face. “Yeah?”
Oh, God that look, that sweet, adorable look on his face takes me back to when we were kids, and he taught me to ride my bike without training wheels. When I nailed it, he was so happy, he gave me a great big hug.
“Yes.”
“Wait, no.” He puts his elbows on his knees and holds his forehead. “I can’t ask you to do that.” His eyes meet mine in the dark. “I’m a big boy.”
“Way to throw my words back at me, but you’re not asking, I’m offering, and this is far different than me waiting to hear if I’m accepted to med school or not.”
“Not really. That decision affects the rest of your life, and if I don’t get better, the rest of my life is affected too.”
Okay, he’s right. The worst thing that could happen to me is I don’t make it, and the worst thing that could happen to him is he gets cut from the team, and the truth is, I’d love to have him by my side when the acceptance notices start going out.
“I’m going.”
He reaches out and takes one of my hands into his and simply holds it. “You’re a good friend.”
“I know.” A beat passes between us and I say, “I was also thinking about that proposal you made at the birthday party.” He frowns like he doesn’t remember. “You asked me to pretend to be your girlfriend to show Naomi not all hockey players were, well…players.”
“What were you thinking?”
“While we’re away, we could do things that real couples do.”
“But Naomi won’t be there to see it.”
“No, but we can go on dates and things like that, and I can tell you when you do something she might like and when you do something stupid—like going on a date when you’re not well.”
He groans. “Not my best move.”
I laugh and lean into him and he throws his arm around me. “Do you even have any moves?”
He chuckles and I’m about to tell him he has at least one, and it’s the way he’s holding me to his body. “Maybe not. Do you?”
“I don’t think I do.” We both laugh, and I say, “All I can tell you is what a girl who isn’t infatuated with hockey players might like and might not like when on a date.”
“Why the hell couldn’t Naomi be infatuated with hockey players?”
“Because you don’t want that, right? You’re looking for the real deal.”
“Yeah, I’m looking for the real deal.” His arm tightens around me. “I’m pretty sure Naomi is never going to go out with me again, though.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
“In the meantime, it looks like it’s just you and me Daisy, learning things together.”
“Guess so,” I answer quietly, and try not to think about how grooming my best friend to get the girl he wants will either help me get over him, or be my demise…