Chapter 29

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I was still confused about what the fuck Beck wanted from me. He fingered me then didn't want me to touch him because he didn't want me to 'return the favor'? What is the point then? Does he not want sex from me? Then why the hell would he touch me like that? I was so confused by Beck's intentions all of the sudden that I didn't know what the fuck we were.

Either way, I just ignored it and pretended that night never happened which was a lot harder than it sounded. I just wanted to feel his lips on mine again. I think I was slowly coming to the realization that in an ideal world where hockey didn't interrupt my personal life, I didn't want Beck as friends with benefits. I wanted Beck.

It was a shame nothing would ever come to fruition.

Either way, I ignored that night just like Beck, both of us acting like it never happened. It wasn't awkward, I don't want to leave that impression. Beck and I continued to sleep at each other's houses, joke around, and all of that but in the back of my mind there was always that cryptic wording that I couldn't figure out. My three weeks had passed, meaning I could return to hockey and it couldn't have gone more flawlessly. And where had Axel disappeared to that night in New York? Well, now I was meeting the mystery guy for dinner.

The smack of my hand on the back of Beck's echoed trough the air of the loud restaurant, drawing attention from some patrons who thought someone just been bitch slapped. "Aye," I pointed at him to my left, resting my elbow on the table. "Stop steeling my broccoli rabe."

Beck narrowed his icy eyes at me while swatting my hand away. "You don't even like Frank Pepe's besides, last time we came here for lunch you ate half my white clam."

"Why would I choose this when I can have colony?" I whispered. Sure, Frank Pepe's white clam pizza night have been ranked the number one pizza in the country seven years in a row, but I was a Colony Grill hot oil girl myself. But, Riko's, Pepe's, and Sally's were all on the top 100 lost for almost a decade with Colony, and they're all from the same family even if they are different recipes. But also, if Colony is the original, and it was owned by ex professional hockey players, which one is really the best?

"Because you live five minutes from here and thirty from Colony," Sebastian interjected from across the green booth. "And if you don't think this is the best, you can walk your pretty little ass right out of here because you don't deserve it," Seb pointed out, gesturing at the door before taking a bite of his margarita pizza.

"My ass is pretty but it's anything but little," I snapped playfully. "And, I think as the only one raised in Connecticut, my judgment of the best apizza style pizza is the only valid one. You transplants don't know shit."

"Bitch, you're from New York."

"False," I cocked my head to the side sassily. "I was born in Groton then I moved to New York then back to Westport, so fuck you."

"Damn," a familiar voice came from my left. "I thought I told you to keep a leash on her," the Hispanic drawled, appearing at our table with a taller Chinese man. He was only a little taller than Axel, who was 5'9" but Axel's boyfriend definitely had a similar muscle tone to him.

"You talking to me?" Sebastian asked his best friend, almost offended.

"Either one of you,"Axel glanced at Beck pointedly before looking at me jokingly. "Some people value first impressions."

"I think anyone that's with you gives plenty of second chances."

Axel glared at me before turning to his boyfriend with a small smile on his face. "This is Ken, my boyfriend. Ken this is Beck, Seb, and sadly, Danny," he gestured at us respectively.

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