PUCKED (A Standalone Romantic Comedy) (The Pucked Series Book 1)
PUCKED: Chapter 27

VIOLET

Our relationship isn’t magically perfect after Alex apologizes and we exchange I love you’s. We’re figuring things out and having fun while we’re doing it—and each other.

In the off-season, Alex trains almost daily, and much of his free time is taken up by promotional shoots. Apparently stealing one’s own thunder with a public declaration of love has an amazing impact on marketability. Companies are clamoring to use him for various campaigns. My personal favorite is his endorsement for Trojan condoms. Magnum, of course. I have a seven-foot cardboard cut-out of him in the corner of my bedroom. He wears only boxers. It’s the best jill-off inspiration I have. Alex turns it around to face the wall whenever he sleeps at my apartment.

I haven’t moved in with him yet. It’s only been a couple of months since we got back together, and I’m trying not to rush things. Alex is like a fairy tale prince. Not so much that he comes riding in like a white knight to save me, more like he dives into huge life decisions with absolutely no caution. He asks me to move in with him on a weekly basis. I’ve decided if things are going well by fall, I’ll say yes.

It would be easy to slip into a routine where all I do is go to his house and eat his awesome food and sleep in his huge comfortable bed. I do this no more than twice a week—okay, three times. We balance it out with the occasional sleepover at my apartment. Alex isn’t a fan. It’s not so much the apartment, it’s the lack of luxury. I feel it’s important to know what it’s like not to have millions of dollars and four thousand square feet of living space.

Tonight, Alex is slumming it at my place. We reserve his sleepovers here for Wednesday nights. This is purposeful on my part. Melvin, my smelly, death-metal-loving neighbor, goes out for his role play club every Wednesday. He always leaves dressed as a wizard.

Now it’s not that I’m trying to hide Melvin’s crush on me. Alex knows about it. Although he’s unaware Melvin still stops by on a regular basis to see if I want to play Guitar Hero.

What I am trying to hide is Melvin’s habit of listening to obscenely loud music every night between the hours of seven and eleven. I don’t want to give Alex more ammunition to convince me to move in with him. I’m not ready. I don’t think. Not yet.

Alex is sitting on my couch, nursing a light beer—he can’t drink the regular stuff because of pre-season training. He rarely takes a break from all the healthy eating. We’re watching Netflix since I won’t pay for cable, and I won’t let Alex pay for it either. Melvin should be out tonight with his friends. Instead, he’s serenading us with his music. I can sing along if I want to. Or scream, as the case may be.

“What the hell is wrong with that guy?” He glares at the wall separating us from the barely muffled sound.

“Maybe he has a hearing impairment.”

Melvin’s hearing is fine. I believe he plays it at this volume to cover up how often he whacks it. The only reason he can get away with it is because the neighbor on the other side is an old man who’s practically deaf. He also happens to be Ms. Bullock’s booty call—the old man, not Melvin. I discovered this when I caught him leaving Ms. Bullock’s apartment in her too-short zebra print bathrobe, his saggy old-man balls hanging out the bottom.

“How long does this go on for?” Alex moves around as though he’s uncomfortable, which is absurd. I fall asleep on this couch all the time; it’s like sitting on a cloud.

I shrug. I don’t want to tell him it’s nearly constant.

“Violet?” He cocks his sexy eyebrow, his tone demanding a reply.

“It’s not that bad.”

“I don’t believe you. I’m going to have a word with this douche.”

Alex stands, ready to tell Melvin off. I can’t let this happen. If Alex sees Melvin and Melvin says my name the way he usually does—like he wants to hump it—Alex is going to kick his stinky ass. I don’t want to get kicked out of my apartment, nor do I want Alex to be charged with assault.

“No, don’t. I’m fine with it. I like this music.” I hum along for a few seconds, thrashing to the beat. I really hate this shit.

“Why don’t you want me to talk to him?” Alex is too quick, too smart, and too perceptive for his own good.

“Um, uh . . .”

He crosses his arms over his chest. It makes his muscles bulge in a distracting way.

“Is he still trying to get you to go out with him?”

“No.” It comes out all high-pitched. I need to learn how to lie better.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Alex grabs me by the waist and carries me to the wall I share with Melvin, where he pins me to it with his body.

“What—”

“We’re gonna make a little noise of our own.” Alex grins, but his eyes are dark and possessive. Ooooh, angry, dark, possessive Alex is sexy.

“Oh. Good plan.” The monster cock has risen to the occasion. My corresponding parts respond accordingly.

I’m naked in a flash. My clothes literally incinerate off my body thanks to Alex’s smoldering gaze. Not really—he’s got nimble fingers. He only bothers to lose his shirt and undo his pants. Being the considerate lover he is, he still uses his fingers for a minute in preparation for the MC.

Once I’m sufficiently primed, he lifts me up and lowers me onto him. Alex slams his hand against the wall every time he thrusts. It’s hard and fast and loud, which is what he intends. At one point, the music stops completely—right in the middle of one of my epic declarations of cock love.

The music returns immediately, louder this time. This pisses him off even more; he channels his anger into my pleasure, loudly. This makes me the recipient of two stellar orgasms.

When he finally comes, he leaves a dent in the drywall with the side of his fist.

I can’t stand on my own after he sets me down. At first, he’s worried he’s hurt me, and then he realizes he’s fucked me until I can’t walk again.

“Here, baby, let me help you out.” He carries me to the couch, his annoyingly cocky grin fixed in place. I’m too much of a limp noodle to do more than glare from a semi-prone position.

Alex is a big fan of post-sex meals. I don’t have a personal chef who prepares such things for me, so we have to go out to get something. I’m too post-orgasm dumb to argue against it, so I try to figure out how to use my legs again and get dressed, with Alex’s help.

I tiptoe quickly past Melvin’s door. Alex has other ideas; he knocks hard enough to make the light above us rattle. Melvin peeks out with the chain lock still attached. His eye—the one I can see—flickers to me and away. His face goes beet red.

Alex wrinkles his nose as he takes in the rank odor emanating from Melvin’s apartment. His smile is dark, and he keeps one arm wrapped protectively around me. “Hey, buddy. You mind keeping your music down a little in the future? Violet’s too polite to ask. It makes it hard for her to function.” Alex stresses the “funk” in function, making it sound like fuck-shun.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, sure.” Melvin nods, his wide eyes on Alex.

“Thanks, man.” Alex guides me down the hall with his hand on my ass. I’d protest, but it’s actually kind of funny.

Two horrifyingly embarrassing weeks after the wall-sex fiasco—during which Melvin avoids me and Ms. Bullock gives me knowing winks—the pipes in my kitchen burst and flood my apartment. The landlord tells me it’s going to take a week to fix it.

Alex totally overreacts and comes over to let my landlord know it’s unacceptable. My landlord’s “not my problem” attitude pisses off Alex. After a yelling match, where Alex questionably threatens to kick his ass with his hockey stick, my landlord says he’ll do his best to get the pipes fixed as quickly as possible. Alex doesn’t seem terribly worried about the pipes, to be honest.

I hastily throw a bunch of stuff into an overnight bag, and we head to his place.

Alex rubs the back of my neck. “You can stay with me until the pipes are fixed.”

“Okay.” I hadn’t really considered any other options, although my parents’ pool house is always open if I don’t mind my mom popping in without warning.

“Maybe you should think about looking for another apartment.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

“I don’t know; maybe because your landlord is an asshole and your neighbor humps the adjoining wall while you sleep.”

That’s a creepy thought. “It’s so close to my work, though. The music thing isn’t bad.”

He pulls into his driveway. “Violet.”

“Okay. It’s bad. I can still manage, and I really don’t want to pack up all my stuff again. It’s such a pain in the ass.”

“Right. Okay.” His face falls.

I put my hand on his arm. “Alex, Melvin is harmless. He smells worse than Buck’s hockey bag. He’s not a threat.”

“I know, baby. Let’s go inside and get you settled.”

I’m surprised he doesn’t suggest I move in with him; maybe I’ve avoided giving him an answer so many times he’s afraid to ask again. I bring my overnight bag upstairs. Alex lies on his bed and watches me as I hang a few outfits in his closet. Then I move to the dresser; I have a drawer reserved. Mostly it contains a variety of underwear, some sexy, some comic-book inspired.

He takes off his shirt and unbuttons his jeans. “Hey, wanna go for a swim? I hiked the pool up to thirty degrees today.”

“That’s below freezing.” Which is technically impossible since it’s July and we’re in the middle of a heatwave.

“Centigrade, not Fahrenheit.”

“I don’t have a bathing suit with me.”

“So? What do you need a bathing suit for?” His grin is full of sex and promise.

“Good point.” I strip out of my clothes while Alex watches from his bed. Naked, I sprint down the stairs and out the patio door to the backyard. I glance over my shoulder to replace him chasing me, shedding his shorts and nearly face planting in the process. I’m almost across the lawn when he loops an arm around my waist and lifts me off the ground. He doesn’t slow as he races toward the edge of the pool. I scream when we take flight, and we land in the balmy water with a massive splash.

Alex keeps his hands on my waist, propelling us upward.

I break the surface with a gasp, laughing. “I almost outran you.”

His left eyebrow lifts. “Not even close.”

“It was totally close.” I hold onto his shoulders so I don’t have to tread water.

“You might’ve had a chance if you hadn’t been naked. It’s a strong motivator for catching you.” His hands are on my waist and migrating north.

“Now we know what would increase your speed during practice.”

“You know what you should practice? Floating on your back,” he says.

“You just want to see my boobs glisten in the moonlight.” I put my foot against his chest, intending to use his solid body to push off. He grabs my ankle and pulls me toward him.

We bob to the edge of the pool where Alex pins me against the side with his body. His smile is soft, sweet, like melty maple sugar candies on my tongue. “You know me so well.”

He wraps my legs around his waist, but keeps me high up, so we’re face to face and the MC isn’t touching the Beave.

“I’m going to start training again soon.”

“Does that mean fewer sleepovers?” It’s a good thing my pipes burst; I can stock up on us time.

“I hope not. But I’ll have less free time. I’ll be at the gym and the rink a lot more.”

I’ve been by the gym while Alex was engaged in a light training session. Watching him run and sweat and pump iron is almost obscene.

“Are you worried about how I’m going to deal with that?”

“No.” He rubs his nose against mine. “I’m worried about how I’m going to deal with it.” I love that he’s hard on the outside and a total marshmallow on the inside.

I also know where he’s going with this. “Are you going to ask me to move in with you again?”

“No.” His lips are on my neck, teeth nipping at skin.

Well, that’s a surprise. “No?”

He readjusts his grip, lining things up this time. “Nope. That’s an open invitation. When you’re ready to move in, you let me know.”

It’s not the answer I expect. I try to challenge him, but he kisses me and there are no more words.

It takes more than a week to fix the pipes. After nine days at Alex’s I’m finally able to go back to my apartment. I’m not at all excited about having my own space again, and not because Alex’s house is so much nicer than my crappy apartment. I’ve gotten used to seeing him every day. I even cooked a meal for him—granted all I had to do was set the timer on the oven. I made a salad to go with it. And I chose a bottle of wine. I’m totally domesticable.

The second I open the door to my apartment, I’m smacked in the olfactory senses. It smells like a gym sock covered in rotten eggs. It’s also rankly hot. I discover the gagworthy odor is actually my garbage. By the time I’m done disposing of it, I’m dry heaving and dripping with sweat. It’s not a sexy look for me. I take a tepid shower and debate my options.

Alex will be more than happy to have me back at his place, and I’m happy to stay there. I’m also certain if I go back, I’m not likely to return to my apartment. I’ve been holding out, thinking if I wait until the end of the summer, we’ll have been together long enough for it to be reasonable. Putting a timeline on it doesn’t change whether or not I’m ready for this step.

I pack an entire suitcase full of clothes and throw essential items—such as my home waxing kit and razors—into a box. It says a lot that I’ve never fully unpacked. Six boxes remain in the back of my closet, containing items which should live on shelves or bookcases. I haven’t taken the time to make it happen. This apartment has always been an interim, a stop on the road to another destination.

It’s after nine by the time I cart all my stuff down to my car and drive to Alex’s. I don’t bother to call. I park as close as I can to the front door and wheel my suitcase up the steps. I have the code to get in, but I figure it’s more impactful if I ring the doorbell.

Alex answers the door wearing only a pair of basketball shorts. He’s good at pretty much every sport including balls or pucks.

He looks down at my suitcase. “Hey. Did you forget the code? ”

“My hands were full. Something’s wrong with the air conditioning in my apartment,” I say by way of explanation.

The excitement in his eyes dims, but he grabs my bag just the same. “Oh. So you want to stay here for a couple more days?”

“Actually, I didn’t call the landlord about it.”

“He’ll have to do something, Violet. You can’t go without air on the twentieth floor.”

“That’s the thing,” I say as I follow him into the house. “I don’t think I want to stay there for the summer.”

He turns around, his eyes the kind of wide associated with surprise and hope. “Is this you moving in with me?”

I nod, and his grin lights up my world.

“I love being here.”

“Yeah?” He’s still smiling as he pulls me in for a kiss.

“Of course.” His love is the best gift, filling my heart, giving breath to a future I can’t wait to start living. “My favorite thing in the world is here.”

“Me?”

“You.”