Sleet Banshee by S.J. Tilly

CHAPTER TWELVE

MEGHAN

Dear Diary,

I need to find a new sport to watch. Hockey is the absolute worst. It’s full of asshole shitbags. They think they’re the hottest thing since snack-size Nutella. Well, they aren’t. They’re the Nature Valley Granola Bars of snacks.

Fine. Fiiiine. That’s not entirely true. Jackson and Zach are great. They’re handsome and sweet and obsessed with their women. But my player? Mine is a scrub. He’s rude. A total dick. And he only cares about himself.

I can’t believe what he said to me tonight.

Can. Not. Believe.

I was honestly worried about him. I hate when someone witnesses me failing, and he had a whole arena watching him. I looked it up; that’s nearly 20,000 people. And that doesn’t even count the people watching on tv or the bums who just watch the highlights online after a game.

I’ve always liked hockey. I’ve never been a superfan of the Sleet, but my family is pretty die-hard, and I pay attention.

Fucking Sebastian. He ruins everything.

No, fuck that, he’s Ash now. Since I’m just like everyone else to him, I’ll call him what everyone else does. Ash the… dash. Ha. I bet he cums in under two minutes. He probably has no idea where the clit is. Every puck bunny he’s banged has probably faked it. I bet he calls out his own name when he blows his load.

Daaaammnit! I need to get laid. It’s been way too long. Next weekend I’m logging back in to every dating app I have. And if anyone even looks like Ash then I’m swiping them straight into the garbage.

XoxoX

P.S. Why the hell did I react that way to him? I have thicker skin than that. People have said worse to me. What the hell is wrong with me?! Just more proof that I need to avoid Ash the Dash LeBlanc.