Sin Bin (Carolina Comets #4)

: Chapter 18



Smith: Please tell me your night was better than mine.


Emilia: I’m sorry about the loss. That one was brutal.


Smith: Getting shut out is never good, but when it’s a team that’s 30th in the league? Hurts.


Emilia: If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been at the office since eight AM.


Smith: Are you still there?


Emilia: Yes.


Smith: What the hell for?


Emilia: Tori. She needs me to write up a proposal for a campaign with a local charity, and she needs it by tomorrow. She sprung it on me right before puck drop, so I had to juggle the game and now this.


Smith: Screw that. Leave.


Emilia: I will soon. I just have a few more things to put together and then I’m good.


Smith: Emilia…


Emilia: That’s my name. Don’t wear it out.


Emilia: Unless it’s in bed. *wink*


Smith: I’m being serious.


Emilia: So am I. *double wink*


Smith: Wouldn’t that just be a blink?


Emilia: No! I winked twice!


Smith: You really should go home. Finish it in the morning.


Emilia: I already have stuff to do tomorrow morning.


Smith: I’m sorry. I wish I was there to help.


Emilia: I don’t. Your version of “helping” is to get me naked.


Emilia: Actually, I lied. I do wish you were here.


Smith: That’s what I thought.


Smith: At least text me when you get home.


Emilia: You’re kind of bossy, you know.


Smith: You like it.


Emilia: I do. Possibly a bit too much.


Smith: No such thing as too much.


Smith: Now, go work. Get your shit done and get home. Within the next hour, please.


Emilia: Yes, sir.


Smith: You’re playing with fire, Emilia.


Emilia: What are you going to do? Glare menacingly at your flip phone?


Smith: Flip phone??


Smith: I’m not that old!


Emilia: Whatever you say, gramps.


Smith: I swear, I’m spanking your ass when I get back.


Emilia: Promises, promises.


Emilia: *kissy-face emoji*

Emilia: Don’t hate me, but when you get home, we need more content.


Smith: MORE?


Smith: How many damn videos do we need for this thing?


Emilia: A lot.


Emilia: We post daily, and not everything is for the player profile. Some of it is just for the team.


Smith: No.


Emilia: Please??


Smith: Fine.


Smith: But for a price.


Emilia: *sigh*


Emilia: You want to see my boobs, don’t you?


Smith: Yes.


Emilia: Fine.


Emilia: You’re such a guy, you know that?


Smith: Yep. Well aware.


Smith: What are the videos about?


Emilia: It’s a Q&A series. We have fans submit questions, then we filter through them. It will only be about ten.


Emilia: For the profile, I mean.


Emilia: It’ll be at least five videos for the team.


Smith: FIVE?!?


Emilia:


Smith: I want more than boobs.


Emilia: Fine. I’ll send both tits, then.


Smith: You were only going to send one???


Smith: That’s just mean.


Smith: Tease.


Emilia: Damn right I am!


Emilia: What am I getting out of sending you a tit pic?


Smith: THE VIDEOS!


Emilia: Those are for the team, not me.


Smith: You make a valid point, but I really feel like that’s cheating.


Emilia: Oh, it definitely is.


Emilia: But you’re going to let me cheat anyway.


Smith: I am?


Emilia: Yes. Because I’m cute.


Smith: Hmm.


Smith: Fair.


Smith: You’re kind of sassy today, you know that?


Emilia: I know.


Smith: Well, as long as you’re aware.

Emilia: On a scale of 1-10, how good of a dancer are you?


Smith: 0


Emilia: That’s not a valid answer.


Smith: -1


Emilia: Smith…


Smith: I am not dancing.


Smith: Never.


Smith: Ever.


Smith: Keep fucking dreaming.


Emilia: Not even for the team?


Smith: Not a chance.


Emilia: BOO!


Smith: Boo me all you want. It’s not happening.


Emilia: It will make really good content though…


Smith: I don’t care. Dancing is where I draw the line.


Emilia: Lowell’s dancing.


Smith: What dirt do you have on him?


Emilia: Enough.


Smith: I’m curious but I know you well enough to know that if I want details, I’ll have to make an exchange and I’m still not dancing.


Emilia: Ugh. Fine.


Emilia: *crosses off next ten ideas*


Smith: I’m sure you’ll come up with something else.


Emilia: And here I was, ready to offer up blow jobs in exchange for content.


Smith: …


Smith: What kind of dancing?

Smith: Be honest…


Smith: Does it make me an old man if I order oatmeal for breakfast?


Emilia: Yes.


Smith: You’re supposed to say no.


Emilia: Well, I don’t want to lie to you so…


Emilia: Yes.


Emilia: It’s a total old person food.


Smith: Watch your tone, little girl.


Emilia: It’s text. You can’t hear my tone.


Smith: Trust me, I can.


Emilia: Can you hear this?


Smith: You just rolled your eyes, didn’t you?


Emilia: Possibly. *grins*


Smith: I thought you youngins were supposed to show your elders respect.


Emilia: I don’t think you “respected” me very much the last time I saw you.


Smith: I did and that’s exactly why I did what I did.


Emilia: Okay. That’s fair.


Emilia: Why are you worried about being “old” for ordering oatmeal?


Emilia: Wait. Let me guess. Miller?


Smith: No. That shithead Greer.


Emilia: You don’t like your goalie?


Smith: Of course I like my goalie. But only on the ice.


Smith: He’s a cocky little prick.


Emilia: But also totally saving your asses this year.


Smith: Whose side are you on here?


Emilia: Yours. Totally yours.


Emilia: But…am I lying?


Smith: No.


Emilia: That totally killed you to say, didn’t it?


Smith: Yes.


Emilia: You’ll be fine.


Emilia: I’ll make sure I kiss you back to life when you get home tomorrow.


Smith: Start with my dick, please.


Emilia: We’ll see.


Emilia: *whispers* That’s a lie. I totally will.


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