He’s Not My Type

“Fuck yes, donuts,” Silas says, approaching me and reaching for the box in my hands.

I swat his hand away. “They’re not for you.”

“Who the fuck are they for?” he asks, insulted.

“Not for you, that’s all that matters.” I head toward the elevators, nerves ripping through my stomach. I sat in my car in front of the donut shop for ten minutes to convince myself this was a good idea, not a creepy one.

And the phone I bought right before that wasn’t a creepy, stalkerish move either.

“Why are you going up the elevators?” Silas follows closely. “Wait, are you going to go see Blakely?”

“Don’t you have some warming up with an exercise band to do?”

“The elastic band can wait.” He stands in front of me just before I’m about to press the up button to the elevator. “Are you taking donuts to Blakely?” A smile passes over his lips, and it takes everything in me not to knock it off his face.

“Can you just mind your own business?” I try to hit the up button again, but he blocks it.

“Why won’t you admit it?”

“Because what does it matter?”

“You’re making a move without telling your boys. That’s why it matters. Don’t you think you should consult with us? Hell, she’s been there for one night, and you’re already hitting on her?”

“I’m not fuckin’ hitting on her,” I say, feeling irritated. “And I sure as hell am not making a move. Also, you were the ones who told me to ask her out the day we discovered she was single.”

“That’s different.”

“How?” I ask.

“It was our idea. We’re always right.”

“You’re a goddamn idiot,” I reply, my blood pressure spiking from this stupid conversation. “And if you must know, she had a rough morning that I won’t get into because, frankly, you don’t need to know, but she also broke her phone. She was stressed and mentioned needing a donut. She also needed a new phone, so I picked it up for her. The donuts were on the way.”

“Luxe Donuts is not on the way to the arena, but nice try.” He folds his arms at his chest. “So this isn’t about making a move on her?”

“No.”

He eyes me suspiciously, but that smile stays fixed on his lips. “I don’t believe you, but tread carefully. You don’t want to shoot your shot too soon.”

“Trust me, I won’t be doing that . . . ever.”

“Okay.” He chuckles and moves out of the way. “Keep telling yourself that.”

I press the button, and when I expect him to walk toward the locker room, he doesn’t.

“What?” I ask, feeling the pressure of his gaze.

“I think you could use someone like Blakely in your life. It would be good for you.”

“Can you keep your fucking voice down?” I say, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one heard him. “Jesus. Just . . . just drop it, okay?”

“Okay,” he says with a shrug, and this time, he walks away.

Fuck, I shouldn’t have done this. My friends are too involved in my life. They think they know what’s best for me but don’t know anything.

They don’t know I’m absolutely terrified to give Blakely these things.

That this morning, when I saw her appear from her bedroom, I felt my heart stop beating from how goddamn beautiful she is.

That even though I felt bad that she was embarrassed this morning, I found it so goddamn endearing that she was flustered.

And they sure as hell don’t know that I stood in the middle of my living room last night, staring at her bedroom door, wondering if I should knock on it and ask her if she needed anything.

I didn’t knock.

I was too much of a chickenshit to take a step past my living room.

The elevator dings, and the doors open in front of me. I hesitate for a moment. Maybe this was a bad idea.

Maybe I should just head back to the locker room and pretend this never happened.

The thought of ignoring my brazen idea is really appealing until I realize I can’t walk back to that locker room now with donuts and a phone after Silas saw me.

He would never let me live it down.

And not only that, but he’d also tell the other guys.

I have to go through with the idea, so I step onto the elevator and press the third floor where her office is.

As I ride up, I take deep, calming breaths, telling myself not to get too nervous and that everything will be okay.

When the elevator stops and the doors open, I run right into a familiar face. Familiar to what I’ve seen in the media at least.

“Halsey Holmes,” he says while holding out his hand. “I’m Huxley Cane.”

I take his hand and give it a firm handshake. “Yes, Huxley, how are you?”

“Great,” he says. “It’s an honor to meet you. You had me on the edge of my seat the other night with your late-game goal.”

“That’s what everyone’s been telling me.”

“Hell of a game. Plan on going tonight with some friends and family. Good luck.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that,” I say as he moves around me and walks into the elevator.

With a nod, I move down the hallway toward Blakely’s office. When I see the office door is open, I steel my nerves and knock on the wood while poking my head in.

She’s sitting at her desk, staring into space so my knock startles her. “Oh, Halsey,” she says, making eye contact. “What are you doing here?”

I step into her office. “Uh, I thought you might need a new phone.” I walk up to her desk and place it on the glass surface.

“Seriously?” she asks, looking stunned. “You got me a phone?”

I pull on the back of my neck while holding the donuts, starting to feel even more foolish from her reaction. “Well, I assumed you might need one for the game tonight and everything. You just need to insert your SIM card. I didn’t know what case you’d like so I just grabbed this,” I say while pulling a purple case from my back pocket. “Apparently it doesn’t slip from hands easily. And there’s a screen protector already installed on it as well. The purple is for the Agitators, but feel free to change it.”

She stares at the phone and the case for a few seconds before looking up at me.

“If you don’t like it or if it’s wrong, I can take it back. I have time, so I can make the trip.”

She shakes her head. “No, sorry, I love it, I’m just . . . stunned, is all. This was so nice of you. Thank you, Halsey.”

“Oh sure.” I set the donuts down as well. “And these are because you said you needed a donut. Not sure if you were able to pick one up or not.”

She offers me that beautiful smile, which makes me so goddamn weak that I grip the chair in front of me so I don’t make a fool of myself.

“I wasn’t able to grab a donut, so you just made my day.”

“Well, I felt bad, so . . . hope your day goes better.”

She stands from her desk and rounds it, coming right up to me. Unsure what she’s about to do, I just stare at her as she loops her arms around me and pulls me into a hug.

A warm, genuine hug.

I’m quite stiff at first, but after one second of feeling her around me, my arms immediately circle her, and my head leans in, taking in the sweet scent of her shampoo—it’s like a field of flowers.

“Thank you so much, Halsey. I appreciate it.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” I say as she pulls away. My fingers drag along her slender back before I let go.

Those beautiful eyes stare up at me as she says, “It’s been an insane day, and I’m not sure I even apologized for flashing you. Did I? I blacked out. I know I spoke of a loincloth. Honestly, it wasn’t my best moment.” She flips open the donut box and pulls one out. She then takes a giant bite before letting her head fall back while she moans in delight.

Jesus . . .

“These are so good. Here, have one.” She gestures toward the box.

“No, those are for you.”

“Don’t make me eat a donut alone, Halsey. Unless . . . will it mess up your pregame routine? If so, then don’t take one. But if it will ensure you don’t make me split my skirt, then do take one.” She glances down at her skirt. “This is a frilly skirt, though . . . so I don’t think I can split it, but I can flash people my loincloth, so . . . ugh, I don’t know. Just eat a stupid donut.”

I smirk and reach around her for a blueberry yeast donut.

She studies my choice. “Never would have guessed you’d choose that.”

“I love everything blueberry.”

“Really?” she asks, looking perplexed. “You don’t look like a blueberry kind of guy.”

I take a bite, then ask, “What does a blueberry kind of guy look like?”

She looks away for a moment, then, in question form, asks, “Blue?”

That makes me smirk. If only she knew the blue balls I have at the moment.

“I guess we can be deceiving.”

“Apparently.” She leans against her desk and blows out a long breath.

She studies the ground like something is on her mind.

“Is everything okay?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, just . . . kind of a crazy day.” She glances at her open door. “Can I tell you something that you must keep within the roommate confidentiality agreement?”

“There’s a roommate confidentiality agreement?” I ask, loving that she already feels so comfortable with me. Hell, if I flashed her my loincloth, I’m not sure I’d be able to act so casual an hour or so later.

“It’s well known that the minute you share a space with a human, a confidentiality agreement is built in. Like if you happened to trip out of your shorts and show off your ding-dong this morning, I would have laughed hysterically and pointed, but then kept that close to my chest . . . possibly telling Penny, because she is technically attached to me.”

“You realize anything you tell Penny is going to get to Hornsby, and there is no way Hornsby will keep that to himself. He’ll announce it in the locker room.”

Blakely shakes her head. “Trust me, the number of secrets we’re able to keep to ourselves is unmatched. Your jiggling ding-dong would have gone into the vault.”

“Good to know.” Although if she ever sees my cock, she better not refer to it as a jiggling ding-dong, that’s for sure. If my cock was in her sight, there’d be no jiggling. Period.

“So . . . are we in the vault?”

“You never have to worry about me talking about your secrets, Blakely,” I say seriously.

She smiles softly. “Should have known. You’re the guy people can trust.”

I’m not sure how to respond, so I finish my donut.

“Anyway. Not sure if you ran into him in the hallway, but Huxley Cane was just here.”

“Yes, I saw him.”

“Well, he offered me a job.”

My brow pulls together in a frown. “He did?”

She nods. “He did. I’m still unsure what he really wants me to do. Something with launching a new donation section of The Jock Report, and he wants me to be the VIP relations for the Pacific division.”

My skin feels itchy from the thought of Blakely taking a new job. What would that entail? Would she have to move?

“He said he pays well, and the benefits are unmatched. He said he’ll send over more information later.”

“Um, let me get this right. He met you here, at the Agitators head office, and offered you a job? That’s . . . well, that’s ballsy.”

“My thoughts exactly. But it’s Huxley Cane. I guess that’s what that sort of man does.”

“Wow.” I shift from one side to the other. “How do you feel about the job? Would you have to move?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Does the idea of working for someone who has potential to truly grow my career sound appealing? Of course. But I love this job. I love working with you guys and with Penny. And I have no idea about moving. I guess if they asked me to move, I’d have to think about it. Which is crazy to say out loud since I didn’t want to move with my boyfriend, but that was to Australia, and that was for his job. Maybe I’d move for my job.” She shrugs casually. “I don’t know.”

Maybe she’d move for her job?

Panic immediately rushes through me, causing a light sheen of sweat to form on my lower back.

Not that I’m ready to make a move on her, or even really consider it, but if she moved . . . fuck, I don’t know how I’d react to that.

You’re fucking fooling yourself . . . you know how you’d react.

I’d regret never asking her out.

I know that for damn sure.

“Anyway, sorry to bother you with all of this. I’m sure you have things you have to do for your game. And listening to me talk about a new job is not one of them. And thank you for the phone. I’ll pay you back.”

“No need.”

She gives me a cute side-eye expression. “Halsey, I’m paying you back. Also, thank you for the donuts. I plan on eating at least three more of these in the sanctuary of my office. Don’t tell anyone.” She squeezes my forearm, and I hate that my stomach nearly floats out of my body from the touch. “Good luck today.”

“Thank you,” I say, wanting to stay longer and talk through this new job thing. Convince her that moving probably isn’t the best idea, that she has a life here and friends and people who like her . . . actually like her.

But I’ve been excused, and it’s probably for the best because I need a game plan. She can’t take that job. She can’t move. And I need to give her a reason she can’t.

“THIS MUSTARD IS AMAZING,” Posey says with his mouth full of a bologna sandwich, some of the manufactured meat hanging out of the bread, flapping as he talks about it. Fucking vile. “It’s new, and it’s really adding a special . . . je ne sais quoi . . .”

“Don’t be a douche,” Silas says as he leans back against his locker.

“Do you really eat one of those before every game?” OC asks, looking at Posey with a certain disgust in his upper lip. We all share the same sentiment.

“How do you think I’m able to hold my own on the ice?” He lifts his shirt, showing off his six-pack. “This is built on bologna.”

“It’s disgusting,” Silas says, looking grumpier than usual.

“What’s your problem?” Posey calls him out.

“Ollie and I got into a fight this morning, and I’m irritated,” he answers.

“What was the fight about?” OC asks.

Silas stares up at the ceiling for a second. “She wanted to be on top this morning, and I wanted her from behind, so she ended up cutting me off and well . . . yeah.”

The room turns silent, and after a moment, Posey says, “Do you really think we’re going to feel bad for you that you’re a dumbass and wouldn’t let your girl ride you?”

“I wasn’t looking for sympathy.” He gestures toward me. “Focus on Holmes and the sour look on his face.”

The boys turn toward me, and OC asks, “What’s going on? You do look kind of . . . different.”

“Ate something weird,” I answer as I put on my shin guard.

“Liar,” Silas says. And I know that tone. He’s irritated, so he’s going to make sure everyone around him is irritated. “He took donuts to Blakely, and it’s obvious it didn’t go well.”

Yup . . . the motherfucker.

“Whatever happened to fucking privacy?” I ask him.

He circles his finger in the air. “Around here, there is no such thing.”

Clearly.

“Dude, you took her donuts?” Posey leans in. “That’s really nice. Did she not like them? Were they the wrong kind? Fuck, were they cake donuts, not yeast? Always go with the yeast, man. I don’t know one person who will rave about a cake donut over a yeast.”

“He’s right about the yeast,” OC chimes in.

“What about a sourdough?” Silas asks. “An old fashion? Those are good.”

“You would eat that over a classic glazed?” Posey asks before shoving the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. “No fucking way.”

“I mean, they’re good,” OC adds, “but I have to agree with Posey. They don’t top a classic glazed.”

“No one ever agrees with Posey,” Silas says.

“Not true.” Posey scrapes a drop of mustard from the corner of his lip. “A lot of people agree with me. I’m the smartest motherfucker on this team. It’s why all of you are with women.”

“If that’s the case, then the donut situation wouldn’t have gone bad. Ever think about that?” Silas asks. “This sorry asshole over here has his tail tucked between his legs because he tried giving a girl donuts, and it didn’t work out. Where were you with that?”

“First of all . . .” Posey holds up one finger. “I can’t be held accountable for when people go rogue. I had no idea he was taking her donuts, and if I did know, I’d have heavily suggested yeast donuts, not cake.”

“They were not cake donuts!” I shout, feeling frustrated with this stupid back and forth.

The guys study me, then OC asks, “Were they yeast?”

“Yes, they were fucking yeast. This has nothing to do with the donuts. She actually liked the donuts.”

“Huh.” Posey scratches his jaw. “I could have sworn it would have been a cake versus yeast issue. Did you say something unsavory to her?”

“What would unsavory be?” OC asks.

“Like . . . let me fuck you from behind despite you wanting to ride me,” Posey replies, glancing over at Silas.

“Jesus,” he grumbles. “I wanted to spank her, okay? There are reasons for it.”

“Ever think she didn’t want to be spanked?” Posey asks.

“Trust me . . . she wants to be spanked.”

“Who wants to be spanked?” Pacey asks, walking in from the training room.

“Ollie,” Posey answers. “But not today. Silas is mad about it. Also, something is going on with donuts and Holmes and Blakely, but we haven’t gotten to the bottom of it.”

“Were they yeast donuts?”

“For the love of fuck!” I shout, startling the guys. “They were yeast, okay? I’m not an asshole who thinks I can surprise a girl with cake donuts and make an impact. It wasn’t the goddamn donuts.”

“I think he’s upset,” Posey says, stating the obvious.

“If it wasn’t the donuts, then what’s going on?” OC asks, coming in with concern. He very well might be a welcome addition to this group. He seems more levelheaded than these other idiots I deal with.

I glance around the room, looking at my impatient friends. I shouldn’t tell them, but I don’t have the bandwidth to think up anything else. And it was in the roommate confidentiality agreement vault. But, fuck, I need the help. I hope she doesn’t hate me if she ever finds out . . .

“She was offered a new job.”

“Shit, that sucks,” Pacey says. “Not being able to see her at work.”

“Will just make it harder to make a move, but we can work around that,” Posey says.

“She might be moving . . . back to the States,” I add.

“Well, fuck,” Silas says, his compassion starting to show.

“Man, I’m sorry,” OC says.

“Leaving Vancouver? Really?” Posey asks.

“I think—”

“No!” Posey shouts, shaking his head. “Nope, it’s not happening. I refuse to let it happen.”

“As if you have control.” Silas rolls his eyes.

“She seems dead set on being her own woman,” Pacey adds. “Hence why she didn’t move with her boyfriend. Do you think you can go up to her and tell her no? Not going to work.”

Still shaking his head, Posey continues. “This is not how it was supposed to happen. She’s not supposed to get a new job. Who’s even offering the job?”

“Huxley Cane,” I answer.

“Who the hell—”

“Hey, my cousin is married to him,” OC says, cutting Silas off. Then he pauses for a second. “Hold on . . . Blakely. Jesus, that’s how I know her.”

Confused, I ask, “How do you know her?”

“My sister, Kenzie, was roommates with her in college. Fuck, that was driving me crazy.”

“Your sister was roommates with Blakely?” Pacey asks. “Fucking small world.”

“Yeah, kind of crazy. I’m not sure Kenzie even knows that. She’s actually dating one of the guys who programmed The Jock Report. His name is Banner. They’re making a lot of changes, so I could see why they want to hire Blakely.”

Shit . . .

“Probably not what lover boy wanted to hear.” Silas thumbs toward me. “Do you know anything about the positions?”

OC shakes his head. “Just that they have a big office in Los Angeles.”

“Ooof, that doesn’t bode well for the situation.” Posey takes a deep breath. “Okay, the last thing we need to do is freak out and lose our minds over our perfectly executed plan not going our way.”

“Are you talking about Holmes or yourself?” Silas asks.

Posey glares at him. “Both. We just need to find a way to make sure she doesn’t move.”

“Should we really attempt to repress her chances at growing her career?” Pacey asks, making me think the same thing. I mean, if she wants to grow, if she wants to move, who am I to stop her?

Then again . . . it makes me physically ache with the thought of her moving without at least telling her how I feel.

But telling her how I feel? Christ, that makes me even more physically ill.

“We aren’t repressing her,” Posey says. “We’re just giving her options, is all.”

“What do you mean?” I ask.

Posey looks me in the eyes and says, “We need to show her that you’re boyfriend material.”

“You know,” OC says. “I’m not sure that’s going to do anything. I don’t remember much about Blakely except when I heard Kenzie tell Mom that she admired Blakely’s determination to be a free spirit. To be her own person. I didn’t really get what she meant at the time, but now that I know her a little, I do. I doubt anything you plan could ‘change her mind.’ She’s going to do what she wants.”

“Valuable information.” Silas slips on his socks now, the game looming closer.

“We aren’t going to try to tell her what to do,” Posey clarifies. “We’re just going to dangle a carrot in front of her and see if she bites. And when I say carrot, I mean Holmes’s penis.”

“We are not dangling my penis,” I say.

Posey rolls his eyes. “Metaphorically. If she got a look at your penis, I’m pretty sure it would scare her away. That shit has girth.”

“Can you not?” I ask.

“Please, everyone sees it in the shower, along with Silas’s piercings and my perfectly shaped balls.”

“When I say no one is getting a solid look at your balls, I fucking mean it,” Pacey says. “But he’s right, Holmes, you do have a lot of girth.”

OC runs his hand through his hair. “Christ, didn’t know we were sneaking peeks at everyone.”

“You don’t look?” Silas asks. “That’s a fucking lie.”

“I just went with the eyes-up policy.”

“Apparently, we don’t here,” I say while pulling on my socks as well.

“Either way, we can’t show her the penis yet, but we can devise a plan to show her how great you are and tempt her to be with you.”

“I don’t want to make a big deal of this,” I say, regretting even bringing it up.

“But do you like her?” Pacey asks.

“We all know he likes her,” Silas answers. “Every thread in the carpet knows that Holmes likes Blakely.”

“Then why not even try?” Pacey asks.

“Because I don’t want to bother her.”

“How is it bothering her?” Posey asks.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because she lives with me now, and she doesn’t want some hockey player fumbling around trying to make a good impression.” I tug on my hair. “Not to mention, I just don’t think I’m ready for that shit. I’m not . . . I’m not the same person,” I say softly. And that shuts every mouth. No more sarcasm. No more ridiculous talk. Thank fuck.

“You’re not,” Pacey says. “And that’s okay. We all change during our journey through this crazy world, but you can also veer from today’s version of you. And I think I can speak for all of us when I say we don’t want to see you alone. We want you to have someone you can talk to at night and share this life with. If any one of us deserves it, it’s you.”

“He’s right,” Silas says. “It’s okay to recognize you’re not the man you were a few years ago. Losing your brother . . . of course that will change you. But it’s not good for you to just hole up in your room and not experience life outside of hockey. This is the first girl you’ve shown any remote interest in, in God knows how long. Don’t let it slip by because you feel who you are now won’t appeal to her.”

“I know I’m new to this,” OC says. “But I agree with them. My sister was very guarded, especially when she first met Banner, but he slowly eased his way into her life, and now she’s the happiest I’ve ever seen. I think if you just . . . ease your way in, you’d at least see if there’s something between you two.”

“I agree,” Posey says. “At least give it a shot. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

I sigh heavily, knowing they’re right.

I’m not the same person since I lost Holden. He was . . . he was my other half. I won’t ever be the same person, but I’m wasting away a life he could have had. I miss him. I can’t fathom being happy with him gone. But if he saw me now, he’d be pissed. I know he would. He’d tell me to get my head out of my ass and stop letting the past haunt me—easier said than done.

I might be uncomfortable with the thought of easing myself in, but I know for a fact I’ll regret not doing anything.

“Okay, what should I do?”

A large smile stretches across Posey’s face. “First things first, you no longer wear a shirt around the apartment.”

Oh hell . . .