Golden Puck: A Hockey Romance (Lust & Hockey Book 1) by Sarwah Eve

Author:Sarwah Eve [Eve, Sarwah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

The next day, Kimberly showed up as she said she would, and we didn’t discuss what had happened yesterday. If anything, we both pretended nothing had happened, which was fine by me until I figured out my next move.

It was time for my date with Alan, but I didn’t feel like a girl going out with her boyfriend. Instead, I felt as if it were the end of the world.

“Well, try to have a good time with your boyfriend, Justine. Life isn’t that bad, and if I was ten years younger, I would tap that booty!” Kimberly said, slapping her butt.

“The thing is, he is supposed to be tapping your butt, not you tapping your own butt,” I said, and we both broke out in laughter. My frown was now a thing of the past as I slumped on the bed laughing.

“I’ll see you in four days,” she said.

“What? Why not tomorrow?” I asked, surprised.

She smiled and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder. “It will be alright. Not only has your memory come back to you, but your body too.”

I nodded, thinking I needed to pretend a little more about things I remembered, because if Kimberly picked up on it, then others would, too, especially since I was going on a date in less than an hour.

“I’ll see you in four days,” I said, quickly changing the subject, ready for her to leave. I needed to be a better actress, and she hesitated as she adjusted the strap on her bag.

“Yeah, have a good weekend,” she said.

I nodded, thinking that if I was spending it with Alan, there would be nothing good about it at all. I had to keep up the good girl act, or my cover would be blown. I headed to the bathroom and decided to run myself a bath. I bit my bottom lip, a habit I’d developed, but usually, it was only when I had an exam, not for a date with my fake boyfriend.

The other day, when Alan came to see me, I swore he smelled of perfume, and his shirt was inside out. When I told him, he’d turned a bright shade of red and headed into the bathroom.

That night, he’d said he would be here at six, but he’d turned up around eight, looking as if he’d just had sex. I couldn’t remember the look, but something in me told me his hair wasn’t damp from running when he’d kissed me on the cheek. I had asked if he did any type of sports, thinking that it was the only explanation for him to sweat like that.

“Running is for fools!” he said.

I had no idea what he meant by that, but he seemed to come up with these statements, the type that made no sense to me. Then I realized I never asked for an explanation. Maybe, because I felt that if I asked him to explain, he’d mock me like he had the day when he said that I would never get better if I spent all day in bed.

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