Chapter 5: Wait, Mr. Broody Is A Hockey Star?

~Lucy~

I don't want to admit it, but Mr. Grump might actually be a gentleman…well… a gentleman with an asshole attitude.

He carried my bags upstairs, and for a second, I thought—no, I expected him to push me into my room and bend me over like he threatened to in the parking lot. My body was ready, practically begging.

But Nope.

That arrogant jerk just drops the bags in front of my door, gives me one last unreadable look, and walks into his own apartment like nothing happened, not a word, not even a smirk. Like I don't exist.

And now I'm standing here, thighs clenched, wondering why I'm this turned on over someone I literally hate. Why the hell did I want him to do it?

Why am I still thinking about the filthy things he said; how he’d crawl into my head and ruin me?

Why do his words keep echoing in my mind like some damn audio loop?

God, this man is a headache, a grumpy, infuriating, smug and he’s making me a mess.

I chew on my bottom lip and bounce on my bed in frustration. “Ughhhhh!” I scream into a pillow. “I fucking hate this feeling!”

I need help. I need Freya.

I lunge for my phone and facetime her. She picks up on the second ring, smiling into the camera.

“Oh thank God,” I groan. “You're not busy.”

Her eyes widen. “Lulu? What's wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…”

“I'm unwell,” I say flatly. “mentally, emotionally, hormonally, I'm not okay!” Her brows pinch together. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”

“It’s Mr. Next Door! It’s all his fault! That man… in fact, I hate him more than anything right now!”

“What did he do?” Her voice sharpens. “Did he hurt you?” She’s already grabbing her keys. “I’m coming to your house right now—”

“No!” I shake my head quickly. “That idiot threatened to fuck me till I beg him for more! Who the fuck does he think he is?!”

Her expression drops, and then she bursts out laughing. “Lucy!” she wheezes. “Oh my God! You need to breathe and tell me everything that happened between you two!”

I exhale loudly and sit on my bed, dragging a hand down my face. “So…” I spill the whole thing — the gym stares, the creepy guy in the parking lot, the way Mr. Grump punched him and then almost melted me with those filthy words.

And she’s giggling the whole time. Giggling like I just told her I had a romcom meet-cute and not an emotional breakdown in the middle of my horny spiral.

“Dude!” I throw a pillow at the phone. “This guy is literally trying to break my brain and you’re laughing!”

“It sounds like you want him to break more than that,” she says, still laughing. “Bro! I told you that man would give life to your pussy!”

“FREYA!”

“Give that man a chance! He clearly wants you just as much as you want him!”

“No way!” I protest. “He literally thinks I need him. That I want him.”

“Girl… you do.” She squints at me. “You’re horny for that man and it’s okay to admit it.”

I groan and flop back on my bed.

Freya squeals, clapping. “Ughhh! I can’t wait to meet the man who’s finally dragging my beautiful beast of a bestie out of her little shell!”

“I don’t want him,” I growl.

“You literally just said he made you wet and messed with your head.”

“Doesn’t mean I want him!”

“Lucy…” She leans in close to the camera. “Stop fighting it. That man is your karma, your chaos, and your cure. You two were made for each other.”

“FREYA!”

What?” Freya laughs, eyes still wide. “I’m not gonna lie to you, babe.

Before I can respond, someone shouts in the background on her end.

“Freya! Check the gossip blog!” the voice yells. “Your best friend Lucy is rumored to be dating the famous hockey star—”

My heart stops.

“Wait, what?” I sit upright. “What did they say?”

Freya’s brows furrow, and she scrambles to check her phone. “Hold on, hold on, I’m switching to audio, gimme a sec!”

The video cuts, and I’m left pacing while her voice stays in my ear. “Oh my God, Lucy! Your pictures with Mr. Next Door! They're trending! They're all over social media!”

I freeze. “What pictures?”

“The parking lot!” she gasps. “The way he grabbed you, the way he was in your face, the bags, your dripping hair, all of it! Someone caught the whole thing. It’s on Gossip Grind, ShadeRoom, everywhere! Three million views in two hours, Lucy!”

I nearly drop my phone. “Wait. WHAT?! We’re not even dating! What the fuck is going on?”

“Oh my God, Lucy,” she shrieks. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me your neighbor is Rhett Lawson?!”

“Who the hell is Rhett Lawson?!”

“A famous hockey star. He's in the NHL, like one of the best of all time!” Freya cackles.

My eyes widen.

“People are calling the whole thing a lover’s spat. Oh my God—THREE MILLION VIEWS IN TWO HOURS! And the title?” She clears her throat dramatically. “‘Hockey Star Rhett Lawson Spotted Getting Hot and Heavy with Erotic Painter Lucy Lane!’”

I stop dead in my tracks. “What?! They mentioned I’m an erotic painter?!”

“Yes!” she shrieks. “And someone commented, ‘Can’t wait to see a naked painting of Rhett with nothing but a hockey stick and a smirk.’”

“WHAT THE FUCK.”

“I’m not done,” Freya gasps. “There’s a second post going viral—a clip of Rhett holding that weird guy who tried to grab you away in the parking lot. The blogs are saying it’s your ex trying to fight for you, but Rhett wasn’t having it. Girl, people are swooning over how jealous and protective he looked!”

I stare at the wall, dumbfounded. “Wait… he looks jealous?!”

“Jealous and hot as hell,” she says. “He literally slammed that dude like he was defending a Stanley Cup. People are obsessed. They’re calling it ‘the alpha snatch-back’.”

“What the hell!” I whisper.

“Oh, and someone posted a meme of Rhett gripping that guy’s collar with the caption: ‘When your girl’s ex shows up but you’ve already been drawn naked on her canvas twice.’”

I scream into a pillow. “I'M GOING TO KILL HIM!”

“Kill him? Babe, you're going to marry him. You're already in a ship named Rhettsy.”

Is that how quickly things blow up on social media?” I ask, stunned.

Before Freya can respond, there’s a sharp knock at my door. My heart practically stops.

“You expecting anyone?” Freya teases with a sly grin. She knows. I know. We both know.

“I’m not speaking to him,” I say quickly, backing away like the door might bite me.

“Girl, are you crazy? You better go check before social media says you eloped.”

I tiptoe toward the door and quietly peek through the peephole.

It’s him.

My stupid heart does a stupid jump. He looks like sin in a black shirt, his hands in his pockets, jaw sharp like a blade. Ugh, I hate this man.

“Lucy,” his deep voice comes through the door, calm and unbothered, “I can hear you breathing.”

Freya loses it on the other end. “OHHHHHH MY GOD!”

I panic. “I’ll call you right back!” I whisper-scream, ending the call before she explodes.

I take a second to gather myself, inhale deeply, throw on a casual I-don’t-care-about-you expression, and swing open the door. Only for a tall, stunning blonde woman in heels and a fitted suit to push past me like I’m the doorman.

“Excuse me?” I blink in confusion, my head snapping toward Mr. Next Door.

She flashes me a perfect smile and extends her manicured hand. “Hi, I’m Laura Smith, Rhett’s PR agent.”

I just stare at her hand stunned, before quickly taking it.

“Wait, what?” I glance at Rhett, who looks… calm. As if dragging me into social media drama, melting my panties with his threats, and now showing up with a blonde PR Barbie is totally normal.

“What the hell is going on?” I mutter.

Laura beams. “We need to talk about the trending posts. As of this morning, you're Rhett’s girlfriend, and the erotic artist fans can’t get enough of.”