further.
Talk about contradictions!
“You just don’t know what you want, do you?” I whisper as I take in my reflection in the rearview mirror.
It seems that I don’t, not anymore.
For so long I wanted a real relationship, a romance for the ages. Despite a search for exactly that, one that extended far and wide thanks to all those dating sites, I never met anyone worthwhile.
“And now you’ve stooped to making out with strange men in old movie theatres.” I scoff. “How the mighty have fallen. Just look at you, Becca Nadeau. What’s up with you lately?”
I’m a wreck, that’s what’s up with me.
My lips are swollen, and loose strands of hair, having escaped from my once-neat ponytail, are sticking out everywhere.
I’m also flushed, making me look like a woman who just had a good romp in the hay with a hot-as-sin man.
Too bad that couldn’t be further from the truth.
No.
Instead, I’m a woman left sexually frustrated.
A woman left feeling foolish.
And a woman left lonely.
Take That, Cupid
I have no idea what just went down.
All I know is for a few short minutes—too short, really—I was sucking face with a sexy woman.
But now I’m sitting alone in the last row of a theatre with a goddamn hard-on, like some kind of a perv.
“Great,” I murmur, adjusting myself discreetly. “Nothing like leaving me high and dry, Crazy Girl.”
Of course the crazy girl is gone, the only thing lingering, letting me to know for sure she was really here, is the faint scent of honeysuckles.
I breathe in, and my erection jumps back to life.
Just wonderful.
“Fucking honeysuckles,” I grind out. “I guess this means any time I smell the damn things, I’ll get hard.”
I have to laugh.
This should make for an interesting spring.
I sure as hell hope there aren’t any honeysuckles near the practice field at the Comets’ training facility. If there are, my teammates are going to wonder what’s up with me. I mean, shit, no one enjoys scrimmages and running routes that much.
Ah, but I needn’t worry.
Official practices don’t start until May. I’ve been working out with my best friend and teammate, Caleb Fortier, but on a casual basis, as it is only February.
So, yeah, I should be good by spring.
Crazy Honeysuckle Girl will be a distant memory by mini-camp.
I chuckle to myself.
I am so going to have to tell Caleb about this bizarre night.
He’ll get a kick out of it.
With a sigh, I sit back and try to watch the movie.
It’s impossible, though.
It’s difficult to get into something you’ve missed the beginning of.
Since I have no idea what’s going on, I decide to just leave.
Once I’m outside, on the snow-covered sidewalk, I catch a glimpse of a car speeding away. Every instinct tells me it’s the crazy honeysuckle girl, running even farther from me.
It has to be her.
I smell her honeysuckle scent.
Of course, my dick twitches in response.
Traitorous bastard.
Shaking my head, I mutter, “I need to get out of here.”
Valentine’s Day is beyond ruined now.
The only positive is I did get to make out with a hot—albeit crazy—chick.
Take that, Cupid!
Consolation Prize
The next day, at our wedding consultant shop, which is really just a small storefront in a strip mall on the west side of Columbus, poor Jodi can’t figure out why I’m so down.
“Is it because yesterday was Valentine’s Day?” she asks, peering over at me from her desk with big, sad whiskey-colored eyes.
“No.” I shake my head, my blonde ponytail swinging. “Was it Valentine’s Day? Huh, I didn’t even notice.”
I am trying to play this off, but Jodi’s not buying my clueless act. She knows me too well. We’ve been friends since junior high, so not much gets by her when it comes to me.
Closing her laptop lid, she states somberly, “I think we need to talk about this, Becca.”
Continuing to act clueless, I ask, “Talk about what?”
“Stop it.” She holds up her hand. “We need to address why you’ve become so anti-love lately. I mean, it makes no sense. You used to be the biggest romantic I knew. I loved that about you too.” Pausing for a thoughtful beat, she goes on. “But here we are, you telling me that you didn’t even freaking notice it was Valentine’s Day!” She throws her hands up in the air, exasperated. “That’s like Santa Claus forgetting Christmas.”
“Please.” I laugh. “That’s a bit overly dramatic, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think so, Becca. Something is up. Something’s been up for a while. I don’t believe for a minute that you forgot Valentine’s Day. In fact, I