Page 21 of Cross Check

Goddamn Instagram notifications.

None of the guys know we’ve spent time together. They don’t know I was a bold motherfucker the other night and liked her social media photo. They sure as shit don’t know I fell asleep smiling because of the messages we sent.

Our conversation was harmless, but I don’t need them making comments that could get her in trouble.

“What’s up?” I try my best to sound casual. “And my middle name is Calloway, by the way.”

“Betsy Buchanan just followed you on Instagram!” Ethan exclaims.

“Who the hell is Betsy Buchanan?” Hudson asks.

“What’s with all the alliterative names?” Liam grumbles. “Other letters exist.”

“She’s a volleyball player who graduated from UCLA a couple years ago and is a total smoke show. She’s an influencer now, and all her photos are hot,” Ethan explains. “Why is she following you, G? When the hell did you two meet?”

“I don’t know why she’s following me, and I’ve never met her.” I steal my phone back and open the app, finding a message from her at the top of my inbox. I read it and frown. “She said she saw a couple videos of me and wanted to say hi.”

“Look at you go, G. It was only a matter of time before people recognized your good looks. We start winning, and you get attention on you.” Maverick grins. “Welcome to the good life. You can have anyone you want, whenever you want. Sometimes multiple people at the same time.”

“Cool.” I toss the guys a forced smile. “Guess I’ve made it.”

It’s the best answer I can give.

Based on everyone’s commentary about hookups and the girls they know in different cities, I’m the least experienced one on the team. They might be exaggerating—everything in this sport is a dick measuring contest—but I don’t have any stories to add.

I’m twenty-two, a professional hockey player, and I’ve never had sex.

I’ve dated a couple girls, but we always broke up before we got to that part. Outside of a relationship, I’ve tried to be the one-night stand guy. I’ve tried to sleep with someone without knowing their name, but it never works.

I need connection. An attachment for things to move forward physically.

A sensitive, sweet-souled anomaly of a man, my younger sister, Hannah, likes to call me. But that’s a good thing. Women like that!

I’m not so sure.

The message from Betsy Buchanan is hardly the first thing to land in my inbox that implies someone wants to get to know me. And, yeah, a quick glance at her profile confirms she’s attractive as hell, but these days, I’m not interested in striking up a conversation with anyone.

Haven’t been since I met Amelia.

I’m not an idiot.

I’ll have to get over my pathetic crush at some point. We can never be anything more than friends—she’s made that abundantly clear—but she’s so goddamn interesting. Funny, too, and I’m going to be delusional a little while longer.

“If you don’t want to talk to her, I will,” Ethan says, and I roll my eyes.

“You’re a leech, Richardson. I’ll message her back and see what’s up.” I shove my phone between the couch cushions so no one else can tease me. It’s a lie, but it gets him off my back. “Thanks for the stamp of approval though.”

“If you ever need a referral for someone who will show you a good time, G, just say the word. Maverick and I can hook you up.” Ethan pauses and looks at our captain. “Hang on. I haven’t seen you with any women all year. What’s up with that?”

“What are you talking about?” Mav blinks. “I’ve slept with plenty of people this year.”

“Bullshit. The two of us would roll back to the hotel with girls on our arms way past curfew last season. Two weeks ago in San Antonio, you were the first one in bed.” Ethan leans forward. “You didn’t even show up to our movie night in Boston! We watched Bambi, and skipping animated films about animals is cruel, Cap. What’s the deal?”

“No deal.” Maverick laughs. “I’m old now. My hobbies have changed.”

“You’re as bad of a liar as me,” Ethan says.

“Another book club meeting derailed.” I sigh. “I’m not participating next season.”