Meet Your Match (Kings of the Ice)

Copyright(C)2023KandiSteiner
Allrightsreserved.
Nopartofthisbookmaybeusedorreproducedinanyformorbyanymeans,electronicormechanical,includingphotocopying,recording,orbyanyinformationstorageandretrievalsystemwithoutpriorwrittenconsentoftheauthorexceptwherepermittedbylaw.
Thecharactersandeventsdepictedinthisbookarefictitious.Anysimilaritytorealpersons,livingordead,iscoincidentalandnotintendedbytheauthor.
PublishedbyKandiSteiner,LLC
EditedbyElaineYork/AllusionPublishing
CoverPhotographybyRenSaliba
CoverDesignbyKandiSteiner
FormattingbyElaineYork/AllusionPublishingDedication
ChapterOne
ChapterTwo
ChapterThree
ChapterFour
ChapterFive
ChapterSix
ChapterSeven
ChapterEight
ChapterNine
ChapterTen
ChapterEleven
ChapterTwelve
ChapterThirteen
ChapterFourteen
ChapterFifteen
ChapterSixteen
ChapterSeventeen
ChapterEighteen
ChapterNineteen
ChapterTwenty
ChapterTwenty-One
ChapterTwenty-Two
ChapterTwenty-Three
ChapterTwenty-Four
ChapterTwenty-Five
ChapterTwenty-Six
ChapterTwenty-Seven
ChapterTwenty-Eight
ChapterTwenty-Nine
ChapterThirty
ChapterThirty-One
ChapterThirty-Two
ChapterThirty-Three
ChapterThirty-Four
ChapterThirty-Five
ChapterThirty-Six
ChapterThirty-Seven
ChapterThirty-Eight
Epilogue
FairCatchSneakPeek
MorefromKandiSteiner
Acknowledgements
AbouttheAuthorTotheoneswhorundespitetherain,
whojumpwithoutfearoffalling,
whoopentheirheartswhentheworldsaysit’sfoolishtodoso,
andwhoarejustcrazyenoughtobelieveinlove.
Thisone’sforyou.TheMostHeinousVaseEverCreated
Maven
“Itsmellslikerichassholesinhere.”
Iwrinkledmynosetohammerthatpointhome,andmybestfriendletoutasoftlaughbeforesippingfromtheglassofchampagneshehelddaintilybetweenherfingertips.Thediamondsonherwarmbrownwristglitteredunderthechandelier,butasimpressiveasherjewelrywas,itdidn’tholdacandletothelong,black,starlight-likedresshugginghercurvesanddrapingdowntothefloorinromanticsweepsofshimmeringfabric.
“Andyouknowthatbecauseyou’vehadyournoseburiedinarichassholeatimeortwoinyourlife?”
“Don’tevenhavetogetthatfartosniffoneout.Justbeinginthesameroomsuffices.”
Theroomwewerecurrentlyinwasoftheballroomvariety,withelegantchandeliers,pristinemarblefloors,andamajestic,vaultedceilingpaintedlikeanItalianchapel.ItwasoneofthemosthistoricbuildingsinYbor;anoldsocialclubtransformedintoanupscalepartyfortonight’sevent.
Whenwewalkedupthegrandstaircaseearlier,Iwasentrancedbythelushgoldandbloodredtones.Thewaytheymixedwiththeexpensivewoodentrimtransportedmebackintime,asifwewereattendingan18thcenturyroyalaffair.
Tampa’srichandfamousfilledthelavishspace,dressedtotheninesintuxedosandgownsthatcostmorethaneverythingIcurrentlyownedputtogether.TheonlyreasonIwasabletodresstofitinwasbecauseofLivia,whohadaflairfordesignerclothesevenbeforeshewasthehighest-paiddentistinthestate.
Mostlybecauseherdentistrydidn’tjustconsistoffillingcavitiesandroutinecleanings—although,she’dargueshedidplentyofthat,too—butratherhandlingtheabsolutelybrutalmouthtraumasufferedbyprofessionalhockeyplayers.
She’dbeenecstaticforthechancetogetmeoutofwhatshereferredtoasmy“hippieclothes.”ImuchpreferredtheflowyfabricofmyFreePeopledressestotheform-fittingmermaidnumberLiviahadstrappedmeintotonight.Although,thegorgeousyellowtoneofitwasmyfavorite.Itcomplementedmyrich,creamybrowncomplexionbeautifully,andI’dstyledmyhairbackinasleekponytailsoallattentionstayedonthedress.
Liviafoldedonearmoverhermiddle,balancingtheelbowoftheotheronherwristandtiltingthechampagneflutetoherlipsagain.“Whatexactlyisthescent?”
“Dirtymoney,designerleather,andBondNo.9,”Isaideasily.“Withahintofthatparticularfragrancethatyouonlyfindinthelobbiesofmillion-dollarcondos.”
“Doesmycondolobbysmell?”
“It’sthemostpungentoneinTampa.”
Hercoral-paintedlipscurvedintoasaccharinesmile,onethattoldmeshetookthatasacompliment.
“Well,goodthingyou’reonlyheretoreportontheeventandhowmuchtheserichassholesraiseforcharitytonight,”shesaid.“Wouldn’twantyoutocatchthestench.”
Sheelbowedmewiththejoke,andIsmiled,pullingmyphonefrommyclutchandswitchingittocinemavideomodebeforeItooksomeclose-upshotsoftheelaboratecenterpieceglitteringonthecocktailtablewewerestandingat.
WhenIhadthatclip,Ituckedmyphoneawayandwrappedmyhandsaroundthecamerahangingfrommyneck.Iadjustedafewsettingsbeforetakingaphotographofthetable,thenofLiviaasshewinkedandtippedbackthelastofherchampagne.
Outsideofthisevent,whenpeoplesawustogether,wedidn’tfit.LiviawasbornandraisedinLongIsland,NewYork—andherparentshadthevacationhouseintheHamptonstoproveit.Iwasfromtheoppositesideofthetracks,ahumbleupbringinginasuburbinlandfromTampaBay.Shewasalsofouryearsolderthanme,graduatingwithherdoctoraldegreewhenIhadjustbarelyclinchedmybachelor’s.
Still,fromthemomentwemet,therehadbeenanunderstandingbetweenus.Itwasthekindyouonlyfoundinsomeonewhosawyouforwhoyouareanddidn’texpectyoutobeanyoneoranythingelse.Itwasrare,andspecial,andsomethingInevertookforgranted—especiallysincefindinganykindofconnectionlikethatwiththeoppositesexseemedfutileatthispoint.
LiviaYoungwasthebestthingtocomeoutofthemosttraumaticrelationshipofmylife.
Asifshecouldsensewheremyheadwasgoing,Liviagentlytouchedmyshoulder.“Yougood?”
IignoredthetwingeinmystomachwhenIresponded.“Good.Youwantapicturewithanyoftheseprissyathletes?”Iteased,holdingupmycamera.
LiviasmiledatmelikesheknewsomethingIdidn’t,shakingherheadwithasmallsmileonherlips.
Ididn’tmeantobesojudgmentalwhenitcametothesetypesofevents,butmyupbringingmadeithardtodoso.Addintheeventsofmyadultdatinglife,andyoucouldsayIhadyettobeprovenwrong.
Myparentswerenonconformists,throughandthrough.They’dmetwhileservinginAmeriCorpsandproceededtodedicatetheirlivestoworkinginthecommunitiestheylivedin.Iwasbroughtuponlittle,withaconstantremindertobegratefulforallthatwehad.AndIwas—truly.Gratituderanthroughmelikearushingriverathavingparentswhocaredforme,whoweresoselflessandkind,whofilledourhomewithlove.
Itwasn’tuntilIfellinlovewithasilver-spoon-fedathleteincollegethatIgrewtoresentthosewhoweremorewelloffthanwewere.
Iblinked,decidingnottodwellonhim,oranythingelseinthepast,tonight.Thiseveningsignifiedthebeginningofanewchapterforme,oneIwouldmakethemostof.
ThiswasmyfirsteventasthenewestadditiontotheTampaBaeBabes.
Despitetherathercheesyname,theTBBswerewellknownthroughoutthecityfortheirsocialchannels,andforthemostlistened-topodcastintheBay.Theycoveredeverythingfromwheretoshop,dine,andstay,tointerviewingthemostinfluentialplayersinthecity—whethertheirgamebepolitics,medicine,science,history,realestate,orpopculture.
Afterworkingtirelesslybuildingmyownonlinebrandinthecity,Iwasnowthenewestmemberoftheteam,withmyspecialtycenteringaroundTampaBaysports—whichwashilarious,consideringI’dratherreadthedictionaryfronttobacktentimesthanwatchasinglebaseballgame.
Itwasn’tmyendgoal.Forme,thatwouldalwaysbecoveringwhatreallymatteredinTampaBayandourcommunities—thepeoplegivingback,everyday,quietlyandselflesslyandwithoutrecognition.
Butfornow,thiswasmywayin,andIwashappytotakeit.
“Ineedarefill,”Liviasaid,wavingheremptyfluteinillustration.“AndIshouldalsoprobablymakeanappearanceattheVIPtables.Ourgeneralmanagerlovestoshowmeofflikeaprizedpig.”
“Youdomakeaveryprettypig,”Icooed,runningmyfingersthroughastrandofhersilkystraighthairwithadotingexpression.
Sheswattedmyhandawaywitharollofhereyes.“Berightback.”
“I’mgoingtogetsomeshotsofthesilentauctionitems,”Isaid.“Meetyouthere?”
Livianodded,andthenshewassplittingthecrowdofpeoplelikeMosessplitthesea,everyheadturningtowatchherasshepassed.
Itookmytimeamblingovertothetablesofitemsupforbid,mentallyplanningoutthevideoandphotocontentI’dputtogetherofthenight.Imadesuretotakemultiplevideoanglesandtransitionoptions,knowingIwouldn’tbeabletocomebackandre-doanyofthemlater.Myparentsoftenlaughedatmyjob—notbecausetheyweremean,butbecausetheygenuinelydidn’tunderstandit.Notmanydid.
Youtellsomeoneyourjobisinsocialmedia,andthefirstreactionisalmostalwaysastaunchlaugh.
ButasconfusedasIwasaboutwheremylifewouldgonext,IlovedwhatIdid.IespeciallylovedthatI’dbuiltanaudienceonlinewhocaredaboutthesamethingsIdid,whowantedtomeetthegamechangersintheircommunitywhoweretheunsungheroes.I’dbuiltaloyalfollowingonthatmission—oneIwantedtotaketogreaterheightswiththeTampaBaeBabes.
Butfirst,Ihadtodomytimeasthesportsgirl.
WhenImadeittothetables,Iheldmyphonesteadyandwalkedslowlydownthelineofitemsupforbid.TheGibsonGalawashostedbytheathleticteamsintheBay,ararecomingtogetherofourhockey,baseball,andfootballteamsastheyraisedmoneytobenefitthemanycharitiestheysupported.Assuch,mostoftheitemsweresports-related,everythingfromsignedballs,pucks,andjerseystosuiteticketsandplayerexperiences.
IwishedIfounditimpressive,thatIcouldlookattheoutrageousbidsalreadyscribbledonthebooksinfrontofeachitemandfinditawe-inspiring.Instead,Ifoughttheurgetorollmyeyesateverypersonintheroomwhofeltsogenerousjustbyattendingthisevent,neverknowingwhatitreallyfeltliketogiveback,tobefacetofacewiththoseinneedandextendahandouttohelpthem.
WhenIcametoaratheruglyandoversizedvasethatstoodoutfromthesportsmemorabiliasurroundingit,Ipaused,frowningandlettingmyeyesassessit.Itwasoddlyshaped,themouthofitwarpedlikeawatchinaDalípainting,andthebodywasmisshapenlikeithadbeenmeltedinsteadofcarvedtoperfection.Itlookedlikeapotterypiecemadebyachildtryingtheirhandatitforthefirsttime,thewholethingdevoidofcolorandaproperfinish.Itwasjustagray,weepingheapofclayposingassomethingofvalue.
“Fanofart?”
“Isthatwhatthisissupposedtobe?”Iaskedbeforeevenlookingatthepersonbehindthelow,smoothvoicethataskedmethequestion.WhenIglancedbackovermyshouldertoplaceasmilewithmyjoke,itfellflatatthesightofVinceTanev.
Ididn’thavetobeevenmildlyinterestedinhockeytorecognizeourhotshotrookie,theonewhohadbeentakingthecitybystormsinceheburstintoheadlinesthispreseason.Hecaughteveryone’sattentionwithallthegoalsandassistsherackedupearlyintheregularseasonsoonafter,andheheldthatattentionwithhisactivitiesofftheice—namelypartying,stumblingintohiscondowiththreegirlsoneacharm,andbecomingknownforrandomlyshowingupinpopularshopsandrestaurants,hangingoutwithfanslikehewasaregularperson.
Whichhewas,Iremindedmyself,asIletmysmileslipfartheroffmyface.
Iknewhimnotonlybecauseofallthat,butbecausehewasfrequentlyspotlightedinthelocalnewsforbeingacommunityhero.ButfromwhatIcouldtell,theeventswereallapublicrelationssham,andhewasalltoohappytopretendlikehegaveashitlongenoughtohavehispicturesnappedbeforehewasbacktobeingaplayboy.
VinceCool.
Tampahadbestowedtheaffectionatenicknameuponhim,inspiredbySnoopy’salteregoJoeCool,andtherestofthenationhadbeenquicktojumponboard.Hewashot,young,cocky,and,worstofall,thekindofplayerwhobackeduphisshit-talkingeffortlessly.
Becausehejustkeptgettingbetterandbetterwitheveryfuckinggame.
Ididn’thavetostudyhimlongtonotethathisusuallymessyhairwastamedtonight,styledinasleekwavethataccentedthelinesandedgesofhishandsomeface.Thosecheekboneswereenoughtomakeapoetdedicatetheirlife’sworktohim.Coupledwithhisthicklashesandlipsthatalwaysremainedinarichboypout,Vincewasimpossiblenottofinddelectable.Thoseattractedtothemalevarietywentespeciallyapeshitoverthelittlescaronhisrighteyebrow,theonethatgavethatprettyfacejustenoughedgetomakeyouwonderifhe’dtieyouupinbed.
Hewasstoicandsevere,thekindofmanwhoexudedpowerwithouteverhavingtosayasingleword.
HispoutylipscrookedjustalittleatthecornerthelongerIstaredathim,especiallywhenmyeyesflickedtothecolumnofhiswhitethroatexposedbythetoptwobuttonsofhisdressshirtbeingcarelesslyleftunfastened.Noneckhadarighttobethathot.
Finally,Imethisgaze,hishazeleyessimmeringthelongerwestaredateachother.Icouldn’ttelliftheyweremoregreenorgold,thetwocolorsbattlingfordominanceashislipsquirkedupabithigher.
MysmileflattenedasIturnedbacktothevase,andVincesidledupbesideme,hispostureconfidentandrelaxedasheslidhishandsintothepocketsofhisslacks.
Hewasatleastafoottallerthanmeeveninmyheels,soIstoodabitstraighter,holdingmychinhigh.
“Itisquitehideous,”hesaid.
Thatmademerelaxmarginally,becauseatleastweagreedononething.“Andyet,somerichprickisgoingtomakeanoutrageousbidonitandpatthemselvesonthebackallthewayhome.”
“Whydoesbiddingonanuglyvasemakethemaprick?”
“Becausetheythinkbeingcharitablemeansthrowingtheirinheritancemoneyatsomeabsurdpieceofart,”Ispatthatpartwithalaugh.“Andsuddenlynowtheyresteasieratnight,feelinglikeGod’sgifttomankind.”
Vincetiltedhisheadabit.“Well,Isupposethat’sbetterthanusingtheirmoneyonblowandhookers,right?”
“Oh,I’msuretheygetplentyofthat,too.”
“Alotofcharitiesdependonfinancialsupportfromeventslikethis.”
“Sure,”Isnappedwithoutmeaningto,myteethgrindingabit.LiviahadgivenmethetoughloveonlyabestfriendcanmanytimesandtoldmeIhavethetendencytocomeoffasabitchtopeoplewhodon’tknowmewell—especiallywhenwegotonthetopicofthestateoftheworld.
Butthatwastheinfuriatingtruth,wasn’tit?Anywomanwhowasn’tsmilingandlaughingandbeingamicablypleasantwasabitch.
Iworetheinsultwithpride.
“Andalotofthepeopleherewilldonatemaybeonepercentofwhattheymakeinayearandbragtoalltheirfriendsabouthowinvolvedtheyareinthecommunity.”
Vinceangledhimselftowardmethen,andImethisgazewithmychinstillheldhigh.
“Soanyonewhodoesn’tdedicatetheirlifeandfinancestoactivismisjustashithuman,huh?Youmustbeaperfectlittleangel—amoderndayMotherTheresa.”
“Attheveryleast,Idon’tdocommunityeventsforPRstunts,”Ishotback,foldingmyarmsovermychest.Thatcalledattentiontothecamerastillstrappedaroundmyneck,andVincearchedabrow.
“Right.Youjustcoverthestuntandpretendtobeaboveitall.”
“Aw,wereyouexpectingmetofallatyourfeetandfawnoverhowamazingyouareliketherestofyourdotingpaparazzi?”Iaskedwithmybottomlippokedout.“That’ssocute.Goahead.”IheldupmyphoneandpretendedlikeIwasrecording.“Tellmeaboutallthecharityworkyoudo,andI’llpretendyoudoitbecauseyouwanttoandnotbecauseitlooksgoodfortheteam.”
Hiseyeswerehazelstonewheretheywatchedme,thecornerofhismouthcrookinglikehewantedtosmile.Buthisjawwastight,browsinahardline,likeIwasanopponentskatingoutontohishomeice.
“Iguessyouhavemeallfiguredout.”
“Wait,thisisaperfectshot,”Icontinued,tuckingmyphoneawayandgrabbingmycamera,instead.“Tampa’sHotshotRookieandTheMostHeinousVaseEverCreated.”
Hislipsdidquirkupabitatthat,justasmidge,justenoughformetofeelsupremelysatisfiedwhenIsnappedaphotoofhimstandinginfrontoftheauctiontablewithhishandsstillrestingeasilyinhispockets.
WhenIdroppedthecameratohangaroundmyneckoncemore,wewereinastandoff,bothofuswatchingtheother.Iworeasmirkthatmatchedhis.Atleast,untilhiseyesbrokecontactwithmyownandrakedslowlydownmybody.Hedidn’tevenpretendtobeashamed,justtookinthedeepVofmynecklinewithappreciation,hisbrowarchingmorewhenhenotedthehighslitofthedressthatrevealedasliverofmyupperthigh.
Myneckburnedfuriouslyunderhisgaze,butnothalfashotasmytemper,andIwasreadytolayintohimwhenanarmloopedthroughminefrombehind.
“Sorry,”Liviasaid.“GottieduptellinggruesomestoriestothecrowdourGMwasentertaining.Oh,Iseeyou’vemetTannyBoy.”
Vinceturnedhisattentiontomybestfriend,awidesmilespreadingonhisface.Itwassodifferentfromtheslysmirkshe’dbeengivingmeallnightitnearlyknockedthebreathoutofme.
“Hey,Livvy,”hegreeted,leaningintokissthesideofeachofhercheeks.Itbroughthimalittletooclosetome,consideringLiviastillhadherarmthreadedthroughmine.“Longtimenosee.”
“That’sagoodthingforyou,”shemused.“Takecareofthoseveneersandavoidanotherpucktothejaw,andwecankeepourtimetogetherinmorefunsettingslikethisone.”
Heflashedhisteethagain,andIfoundmyselfwonderingwhichoneswerereal.
“Ah,butImissyourchair,”hesaid,andhiseyesappraisedherjustthesamewaytheyhadme.“Youknowwelookforwardtohavingatoothknockedoutknowingitmeansatriptoyouroffice.”
Iwastemptedtoscoff,butLiviaseemedusedtotheblatantflirt.Sheonlyrolledhereyesandwavedhimoffwithasmile.
“Sorrytointerrupt,”aslightvoicesaid,andthenweallturnedtoayounggirlwithcheeksaspinkasarose.Sheworeasimpleblackcocktaildressandagoldennametagthattoldmeshewasavolunteerworkingtheevent.“ButareyouMr.Tanev?”
“Theveryone,”hesaid.
Withashysmile,thegirlgesturedtowardthevasebehindwhereVincestood.“Perfect,thankyouforcomingover.I’msosorrytodisruptyournight.”
“Notadisruptionatall.Infact,it’sbeenthehighlightsofar,”hesaid,andhiseyescaughtonminebeforehefollowedtowherethegirlwasleadinghimtothetable.
“Ifyoucanjustsignthatphotographweplacedtherebesideyourartwork,we’llframethatandincludeitaspartofthebiddingpackage.”
Ifrowned,tryingtomakesenseofwhatshesaidasshehandedaSharpietotherookie.
“Itwouldbemypleasure,”hesaid,andafterscrawlinghissignatureoutonthephotographofhiminasweatycelebrationafteragoal,hedroppedthemarkertothetableandturnedbacktowardwhereLiviaandIstood.“Although,Idon’texpectyou’llgetmuchforsuchanuglything.”
Hiseyeswereonmewiththosewords,andItriedwithallmymightnottoswalloworbackdownfromhisgaze.
“Oh,I’msureyou’rewrong,”thevolunteersaid.“It’snotoftenaproathletealsohasanartisticinclination.Thisisthekindofworkthatacollectorwouldbeproudtodisplay.”
“Youmadethat?”Liviaasked,hereyeswideandimpressed.“It’sbeautiful.”Sheshookherhead,appraisingthepiecefurther.“Savesometalentfortherestofus,whydon’tyou?”
Irolledmyeyes,whichmadeVincesmirkinvictory.
Thevolunteerwentrightbacktowhateveritwasshewasdoingbehindthetables,andVincekepthiseyesfixedonmelongenoughtomakemelookaway.
WhenIfinallydid,headjustedthecufflinksonhiswristsbeforenoddingatLivia.“Bettergetbacktoit,”hesaid.“Enjoyyourevening,ladies.”
Hedidn’tsomuchasglanceatmeagainbeforehewasstridingthroughthecrowd,andwheretheseashadpartedforLivia,theoppositewastrueforVince.Hewasmagnetic,callingtoeverypersonhepassedwithoutsayingasingleword.Hedidn’tgetfartherthanafewfeetbeforeagroupwasenvelopinghim,pullingouttheirphonesforpictures.Andassoonashe’dbreakfreefromthem,therewasagirlortwoorthreetuggingonhisarmandvyingforhisattentionnext.
“Ican’timaginethelifehelives,”Liviasaidwithacurioussmile.
“Ican,”Ibitback.“Thecarefullycuratedkind.”
“Okay,grumpy.Noteveryoneiseviluntilprovenasaint,”shemused,laughing.Then,shetuggedmetowardthestage.“Comeon.Let’sfindourtablebeforethespeechesstart.”
Iletherleadtheway,schoolingafewbreathstoshakeoffhowflusteredthatstupidmanhadmademe.
Addinginsulttoinjury,thevasewentforten-thousanddollarsbytheendofthenight.ARealPieceofWork
Vince
AcalmenergyranthroughmyveinsasItapedupmysticksthemorningafterthegala,buttherewassomethingrazorsharpbeneathit.
Itwasonlyoursecondhomegameoftheregularseason,andwhileawinfeltgreatnomatterwhereweearnedit,therewassomethingspecialaboutoneinourbarn.IfweweregoingtobetakenseriouslyascompetitorsintheEasternConference,weneededadubtonightagainsttheTorontoTitans.TheywereleadingtheconferenceandcomingoffaStanleyCupwinlastseason.
IftherewaseveratimetoproveTampawasbackinthegame,tonightwasit.
Iwasn’ttooworried.Coachsensedasmuchatthegalalastnight,andhewarnedmenottogettoococky.Butitwasn’tcockiness.
Well—notentirely,atleast.
Ijustsawthingsexactlyastheywere.
Ourlineswerestackedwithveterans.Ourdefensewasfocused.Ourgoaliewasthebestintheleague.Wewererunningefficiently,andwe’dstudiedtapesolongmyeyeshadcrossed.
Plus,wehadme.
Theycouldcallitcockyiftheywanted,butIwasthemissingpieceforTampa—astrongrightwingeronthefirstlinewiththetenacitythisteamhadbeenmissing.IbulldozedmywayintorookiecampaftergraduatingMichiganinthespring,andIhadn’tletupsince.ComingstraightintotheNHLaftercollegewasn’tanopportunityIwasgoingtowaste,andIdidn’tcareifIhadtorufflesomefeathersinordertokeepmyspothere.
Myteammateslovedtogivemeshit,toremindmeIwasjustarookandthatI’dbehumbledastheseasonprogressed.
Butthathadn’thappenedyet.
Ifeltthewintonight.Itwasours.Homeicejustfeltbetter,wehadwonthreegamesinarow,andhavingthesupportofourfansalwaystickedtheenergyupanotch.
Although,theTampafanswererestlessafternearlyadecadeofhalf-bakedseasons—andIdidn’tblamethem.TheOspreyshadonlymadeittotheplayoffstwiceinthattime,andhadchokedinthefirstroundonbothappearances.
Butagain—thatwasbeforeme.
IfinishedtapingmysticksjustintimeformyheadphonestobeflickedoffmyheadbythehandofJaxsonBrittain,adefensemanwhowasquicklybecomingoneofmyfavoritetoworkwith.HewasonlyacoupleyearsolderthanIwas,aCanadianknownforbattlinginthecornersandbeingquickontheice.We’dstruckupafriendshipeasilywhenIcametotheshow.
“Let’sskate,Pigeon.”
Ismirkedatthenickname,anotherforrookiethattheveteranslovedtopinmewith.Then,Iwasupandfollowinghimoutofthelockerroomandontotheice.
Theenergywasloudandboisterousasteammateafterteammatejoinedus,themusicthumpingandchirpssoundingoffineverydirection.Amorningskatewasjustawaytogetthenervesout,towarmupandprepareforthegamelaterintheevening.Italwaysfeltlikesettlinginforme,thatfirstglideacrosstheice,firsttapofmystickagainstthepuck,firstshotontheopengoal.Mymusclesrevvedtolifelikearacecarengine,firingupforthechallengeahead,whilemymindfloatedupintoafocusedkindoffogonlygamedaycouldbring.
Afterawhileofjustskatingaroundandshootingpucksintoanopennet,ourgoaltenderfinishedhisstretchesandtookhisplaceinfrontofthegoal.
WillPerry—orDaddyPaswecalledhim—wasanabsoluteweapon,andhewasthesolereasonIhadcelebratedwhenIfoundoutTampawasgoingtobemyteam.Ourlinesneededwork,andourdefensecouldbestronger,butDaddyPwassteadyandstrong,easilyoneofthebestintheleague,ifnotthebest.Hewasasfierceagoalieashewasafathertohisdaughter.Shockingly,hiswifehadpassedawayunexpectedlybeforethekidwasevenayearold.
I’dneverlivedthroughsomethinglikethat,butIcouldtellithadcarvedWillPerryintoanunbreakablestonewall—whichwasexactlywhatweneededinagoaltender.
Therewasachallengeinhiseyesashesnappedhismaskintoplace,asiftosaygiveityourbestshot,fuckers.
Hebarelycrouchedintopositionbeforewealldidjustthat.
Puckafterpuckflewtowardthenet,withnolessthantensecondsin-betweenbutusuallynomorethanthat,either.Itwasaracetoseewhocouldscoreonhimfirst,orifanyofuscoulddoitatall
I’dwonthislittlegamethelastfourmorningskatesinarow,andIhadnointentionofrelinquishingmytitletoday.
Imissedthefirsttwoattempts,buttherestoftheteamdidn’tfareanybetter.Andonmythirdshot,thepuckflewhighandfastintothetoprightcornerofthenet.
“Hello!”Iscreamed,glovedhandsflyingintotheairalongwithmystickasIcelebratedthewintothetuneofadozengroaningteammates.“Topcheese,baby!”
“Luckyshot,Pigeon,”Willgrumbled,peelingoffhismask.
“Aww,didyourlovelyladylocksblockyourview,DaddyP?”
Heranahandbackthroughhislonghairbeforeshakingthesweatoff.“Jealousoftheflow?”
“Thatflowdidn’thelpyoublockthecheese.Maybeyoushouldcallyourmomafterpractice,haveherteachyoucouponingsoyoulearnhowtosave.”
Laughsrumbledaroundtherink,andevenWillsmirked.
“Someoneneedstohumbleyourass,TannyBoy,”Jaxsonsaid,skatinguptomebeforeslidingtoahaltandsendingiceupovermyshins.
“Andisthatsomeonesupposedtobeyou,Brittzy?”
“Please,”CarterFabrisaid,skatingacirclearoundusbeforehelazilyshoveledapuckdowntheice.“Brittzycouldn’thumbleanyonewiththosebendyankles.”
“Nizeit,Fabio.Myleftnutdanglesbetterthanyou,”Jaxsonfiredback,andthenhewaschasingCarterdowntheice,catchinguptohimeasilyandstealingthepuckawaywithease.
Carterwasarookie,too,butIwasworriedabouthimbeingsentbackdowntotheAHLbeforetheseasonended.Hewasgood,buthewasn’tgreat,andasmuchasIlovedpartyingwithhim,hewasn’tthecenterweneededtobringtheCuphome.Still,Ihopedhe’datleaststickarounduntiltheteamthrewourrookieparty,becausethesonofabitchwasgoofyashellandalwaysmadeforanepicnightout.
Ifeltfocusedandreadybythetimemorningskatecametoaclose,playersmakingtheirwayofftheiceonebyonetoheadhome.Wedidn’thavetoreportbackuntilfive.Gettingreadyforagamewasalittledifferentforallofus,butitalmostalwaysincludedanap,andIwaslookingforwardtomineasIskatedtowardthelockerroom.
IwasalmosttotheboardswhenInoticedourdentist,LiviaYoung,talkingtoCoachatthemouthofthetunnel.
Thesightofherconjureduponeofherfriendfromlastnight,andsomethingbetweenannoyanceandintriguesparkedinmychest.
Ididn’tevenknowthegirl’sname,butIknewonethingforsure—shewasajudgmental,snobbyprincess.She’dhadhernosesohighintheairlastnightIwassurprisedshedidn’tbruiseitontheceiling.
Still,shewasastrikinglittlebrat,andsomethingaboutthewaysherazzedmemademewanttobendherovermykneeandspankanapologyrightoutofhersweetass.
Maybeshewasright.MaybeitwasbecauseIwasusedtobeingfawnedover,toeverywomanIcameintocontactwithswooningintoapuddleonthefloor.Ormaybeitwasbecauseaknockoutinayellowdresstiltingherchinupatmeindefiancemademychestsparkwithachallenge.
AndIlovedachallenge.
Whateverthereason,Ihadn’tforgottenaboutourinteraction.AndIwascurioustoknowmoreaboutthegolden-eyedgirlwho’dcalledmeaprick.
“DoesitmakemeamasochistthatIprayforapucktotheteetheverygamejustsoIcanbeonatableunderneaththatwoman?”
IchuckledatthecommentfromCarterasheskatedby,hiseyesonLivia,andhewaggledhisbrowsatmebeforehoppingtheboards.
“Lookinggood,Dr.Young,”hesaidashepassedherandCoachMcCabe.“Lovedyourdresslastnight.”
WhileCoachgavemyteammateaflatlook,Liviajustrolledhereyesandsmiled.Shehadtobeusedtoitbynow.Youdidn’tgetawaywithbeingtheteamdentistandlookingthewayshedidwithoutgettingcommentslikethatdaily.
“Ifonlyyouhitonthepuckashardasyoudoourdentist,nineteen,”Coachsaid,clappinghisshoulderandwalkingbacktothelockerroom.
LiviaturnedtomejustasIhoppedovertheboards,andIsidledupbesideher,leaningagainsttheglass.“You’vegotthepatienceofasaint.”
“It’llbethedayIstopgettinghitonthatI’llbeupset,”shesaidwithadazzlingsmile.“Havefunlastnight?”
Aflashofherfriendhitmeagainwiththosewords,hergoldeneyesandfreckle-coveredbrownskin.Iwasn’ttheleastbitashamedofhowI’dseenthatponytailpulledtightatthebackofherheadandwonderedwhatitwouldfeelliketowrapitaroundmyfistandtakecontrolofherlikeawildbull.
Iwouldprobablybehauntedbythatcurve-huggingyellowdressformonths,andannoyedbyherquick-to-passjudgementforanotherfewafterthat.
“Morethanyoursidekick,Iimagine.”
“Maven?”Liviaaskedwithasoftlaugh.“Ah,herbarkisworsethanherbite.”
“IthinkIwasvictimtobothlastnight,”Imused.“She’sarealpieceofwork.”
“That’snothertypicalscene,”Liviasaidinwayofdefense.
“Noshit.”
Atthat,Liviatiltedherhead,eyesnarrowingasshestudiedme.“Interestingthatyou’restillthinkingaboutherthismorning.”
“Well,Ihaven’tbeeninsultedsomanytimesinaten-minuteperiodsincerookiecamp,solet’sjustsaysheleftanimpression.”
Liviatonguedhercheekforamomentbeforeshestraightened.“Ineedtogetgoing.Gotanafternoonfullofpatientsbeforetonight.”Shepaused.“MavenKingisherfullname,bytheway.Youshouldlookherup.”
“Withallmyfreetime,”Ijoked.
Shejustsmirkedandwiggledherfingersatmebeforedisappearingdownthetunnel,andIhungbackforamomentbeforemakingmywayinside,too.
???
Laterthatnight,whenIslippedinsidemyMaseratiparkedintheplayerlot,stillhighoffoursecondhomegamewinandfartookeyeduptoeventhinkaboutsleep,Icouldn’thelpmyself.
IpulledupInstagramandtypedinMavenKingOpportunityofaLifetime
Maven
IwalkedintotheofficeonThursdaywithmyeyesgluedtomyphonescreen,whereadozenInstagramnotificationsstaredbackatmydumbstruckface.
I’dwokenuptofindthatVincefuckingTanevhadfollowedme.
He’dalsolikedsixofmyphotos.
Icouldn’twrapmyheadaroundhowhe’dfoundoutmyname,letalonewhyhewouldhavehadtheballstofollowmeandtonoteventrytohidethefactthathe’dscrolledthroughmyprofile.
Oneofthephotoshe’dlikedwasmymostrecent,meandLiviainourgownsatthegalawithchampagneflutestippedtoourlips.
Buthe’dalsolikedoneofmeinmyhammockthatIpostedlastmonth,andoneofmewithmyparentswhenwe’ddonebeachcleanupinthespring,andonefrommymeditationretreatlastfall.
Themotherfuckerhadstalkedme,andhadn’tevenbeentheleastbitashamed.Itwaslikehewantedmetoknow.
Iwasstillblinkinginhalf-confusion,half-irritationathisaudacitywhenIswungintomyoffice.Myheelsclick-clackedonthemarblefloor,andIslungmypurseoverthehookonthebackofmydoorbeforefloppingdownintomychair.
MymouthwasalittledryasIclickedonhisprofile.
VinceTanev
41
yourfriendlyTampaBayOspreysiceking
alsoknownasVinceCoolorTannyBoy
Isnortedattheicekingreference,tappingmythumbonhismostrecentphotograph.ItwasaprofessionaloneIassumedwastakenbysomeonewhoworkedfortheteam,anditshowedhimcelebratingagoalattheirawaygameearlierintheweek.
Clickingoutofit,Iscrolledpastphotoafterphotoofhimontheice,brokenuponlybyhiminwell-tailoredsuitsshowinguptothegame,orhangingoutwithhisteammatesatthebarstheylovedtofrequentafterawin.
IpausedwhenIsawoneofhimposingwithayouthhockeyteam,clickingtoviewitbigger.Then,Iswipedthroughthecarouselofimagesshowinghimskatingwiththeyoungplayersandsigningsticksandpucks.
“Realgenuine,”Imumbledundermybreath.
Itwasalmostdisappointing,howmuchhisprofileconfirmedexactlywhatI’dassumedabouthim.Hewasjustanothercockyplayboyathletewithnoconceptoftherealworld.
Justlikemyex.
JamesBaldridgehadsweptmeoffmyfeetsoquicklyitwasdizzying.Wewereinourjunioryearofcollege,bothdrunkatapartywhenwestumbledintoeachother.Theconnectionwasinstant,thesexwashot,andwecouldn’tgetenoughofoneanother.
Themoretimewespenttogether,themorewestartedfalling.
Weweresoulmates—atleast,that’swhatitfeltlike.
Butwewerecompleteopposites—himfromawell-offfamilywhospenttheirsummersintheHamptonswithLivia’s,andmefromafamilyofhippieswhospentoursummerstendingtoourgarden.Hewaswellknownoncampus,thebestgolferontheuniversityteamandoneofthebestinthenation.HewouldgoontoplayinthePGATour,andnoonedoubtedit—notthen,noteverinhislife.
Meanwhile,Iwasaimless,gettingacommunicationsmajorwithnoideahowIwoulduseit.Hehadaspirationsforafutureinprofessionalgolf,whileIwascontenttowasteadayatthebeachorvolunteeringatalocalanimalshelter.
ButthatwaswhatIlovedmostaboutJames.HemademefeelsafetobeexactlywhoIwas,mademefeellikehelovedmeforme.ItwassucharefreshingchangefromallthelosersI’dhookedupwithinhighschoolandthefirstcoupleyearsofcollege.Jamesdidn’tplaygames.Jamesshowedmewhatahealthyrelationshipwas.Jameswasendgame.
Ididn’trealizejusthowmuchwedidn’tmix—notuntilIwasonhisarmathisbrother’swedding.
Iwasunderdressed,unimpressive,andsofarfromwelcomeitwaspainful.Icouldstillclosemyeyesandfeelthosejudgmentalstaresfromeverycornerofthevenue,howtheyassessedmeandfoundmewanting.
TheonlythingthatgotmethroughthatexperiencewasknowingJameslovedme,regardlessofmystatus.Wewerealreadytalkingabouthavingaweddingofourown.Weweresolid.Ibelievedeverythinghesaidtomewhenhesworeitdidn’tmatterthatweweredifferent,thatourfamiliesweredifferent.
Helovedmeforme,andwewerestrongenoughtoweatheranystorm.
Excepttheverynextweekendafterhisbrother’swedding,hebrokeupwithme—andhisparentsmadesureIunderstoodwhy.
Ithadbeentwoyears,andstill,mycheststungwiththereminderofthatheartbreak,ofhowI’dheldfasttoeverymemoryofourrelationship,andsobbedforaweekstraightbeforeIfinallyshoveditallintoabox.
Istillhadthatbox,though.
Iwasn’tsureI’deverbeabletoletgoofit,ofhim,entirely.
Iwasvaguelyawarethatitwasn’tfairtojudgeanentireclassorsystembytheactionofonejerkandhisfamily,butsincenoonehadyettoprovemewrong,Iwassteadfastinmybeliefs.
AndVinceTanevwasoftheJamesBaldridgevariety—thatIwassureof.
Iscrolledallthewaytothetopofhisprofileagain,tappingonthelittlearrowthatwouldtakemebacktomyfeed.
Exceptmynailhittheedgeofmyphonecase,andmythumbdroppeddownonhisprofilepictureinstead—therefore,pullinguphislateststory.
“Shit,”Icursed,clickingoutofitbeforeIevensawwhatitwas.Paniczippedthroughmewithmortificationrightonitsheels.
AndthenIlaughedoutloudatmyself,becausethelikelihoodthatVinceCooleverlookedatwhoviewedhisstorieswasnonexistent.
Butwhatifhedid?
“Goodmorning,gorgeous.”
Ijumpedalittleattheknockthatcameonmydoorframewiththosewords,lockingmyphonescreenandtossingitonmydesk.Reyadidn’tseemtonoticeassheslidinsidetheofficewithCamillaonherheels.
ReyaandCamillawerethefoundersofTampaBaeBabes.BothCuban-Americanandbornandraisedinthearea,ithadstartedasnothingmorethantwobestfriendspostingabouttheplacestheylovedaroundtheBay.Reyahadlongbrownhair,widebrowneyes,anathletic,petitebody,andthekindofcalmandinvitingsmilethatcouldmakeyouconfessallyoursecrets.Camilla,ontheotherhand,wastallandslenderlikeamodel,withshorthairangledatherchin,sharpfacialfeatures,andgrayeyesthatsparkedwithhergoofygrin.WhereReyawascalmandserene,Camillawasloudandenigmatic,thetwoofthemtogethermakingtheperfectstorm.
Somewherealongtheway,they’dbecomethenumberonesourceforlocalsandtourists,alike.
TheywentfromonlyrunninganInstagram,tohavingrealestateoneverysocialchannelimaginable,includingTikToksthatwentviralwithoutthemtrying,aYouTubechannelwithmoreviewsthananyotherTampa-basedoutlet,andthepodcast,whichhadcrestedhalf-a-millionlistenersattheendoflastyear.
EveryoneknewtheBabes.Theyweren’tjustgorgeous,butfunnyandsmart,too.Theywerelikecelebritieswhentheyventuredoutonthetown,andonevisitfromthemcouldcatapultalocalbusinessovernight.
Oneareatheywerelackingin,however,wascommunitywellness,whichwasabigreasonwhythey’dpulledmeontoworkforthem.Ofcourse,theywerealsolackinginthesportsarena,andaccordingtotheirbusinessstrategy,thatrankedhigher.
“Wehavetheopportunityofalifetimeforyou,”Camillasaid,clappingherhandslikeshewasgoingtoburstattheseamswhileshewaitedforReyatotellmewhatthisopportunitywas.
“YourcoverageoftheGibsonGalaisourhighestperformingcontentoftheweek.Theownersofallthreeteamshavereachedouttotellushowmuchtheyappreciatedusbeingthere,”Reyasaid.“They’vehadnumeroussponsorshipoffersrollin,andthey’retickledpink.”
“That’sgreat,”Imused.
“And,”Camillaaddedwithonefingerpointedintotheair.“ThegeneralmanageroftheOspreyslovedtheattentionwebroughttotheirphilanthropicefforts,particularlythatdeliciousphotographofVinceTanevandhishandmadevasethatraisedten-thousanddollars.”
I’dneverfoughtsohardnottorollmyeyesinmylife.
“Heloveditsomuch,”Reyacontinued.“Thatheaskedifwehadanyideastodrumupexcitementnowthattheseasonisunderway.Wehavefourback-to-backhomegamesinearlyNovember,andhewantstopackthestands.”
“Wepitchedanideaoffthecuff,”Camillasaid,andmyheadwhippedbetweenthetwotryingtokeepup.
“Thinkingnowaywouldhegoforit,”Reyaadded.
“Buthedid!”
CamillaandReyabouncedexcitedly,andIjustblinkedbeforealittlelaughpuffedoutofme.Ileanedforward,restingmyelbowsonmydesk.“Goon,spititout.”
“WehaveaTampaBaeBabesexclusive,somethingneverdonebefore.”Camillaspreadherhandsoverthespacebetweenusasifshewaspaintingapicture.“OneMonthwithTampa’sHotshotRookie—VinceCool.”
IhopedIkeptmyfeaturesschooledwhenthosewordstumbledoutofmyboss’smouth,thatIdidn’tblinktoomuchandshecouldn’thearhowtightmythroatwaswithmynextsmile.
“Okay…”Isaidcarefully.
“It’sall-access,”Reyasaid.“Twenty-four-sevencoverage.We’regoingtosetupdedicatedprofilesonourmajor-hittingplatforms.ThinkdailyReelsandTikToks,exclusivesit-downinterviewsanddaysinthelifeonYouTube,podcastspecials,stories,tweetupdates.”
Camillacutin.“Andyouwillbethemainfaceofitall.”
“Me?”Isqueaked.
Shenoddedenthusiastically.“Theylovedyouatthegala.Unsurprisingly.Imean,you’regorgeous,andsmart,andthecontentyoucreatedwastopnotch.”
“They’veagreedtogiveusacloserlookthananylocalnewsoutlethashadbefore,”Reyacontinued.“You’llbeatthegames,homeandaway,inthelockerroom,atpractices,athishome,outatthebars,allofit.”Shewavedherhandsexcitedly.“We’regoingtohaveeveryresidentofTampaBayfoamingatthemouth.”
“Probablyhalfthecountry,too,becausethatmanisfine,”Camillaadded,fanningherselfwithasmile.
“Arewesurethisistherightmoveforus?”Iasked,hopingIsoundedlikeasmartpartnerofferingastrategicquestionratherthanthepanickingmessIactuallywasontheinside.
“It’sadreammove,”Camillaansweredeasily.“Thiswasourgoal,togetastrongfootholdinthesportsarena.There’sarabidfemalefanbasehereinTampathatisgoingtolosetheirminds.”
“It’llalsobringinahigherpopulationofmaleviewers,”Reyaadded.“Whichweneed.Desperately.”
IknewIdidn’thavealegtostandonwhenitcametoarguingwiththem.Theywereright.Onpaper,thiswastheopportunityofalifetime.
ButVinceTanevwasaplayboyandaprick,andIwantedthisassignmentaboutasbadlyasIwantedmyarmchewedoffbyrats.
“WhataboutfocusingmoreonthepeopletheOspreyshighlightateachgameastheircommunityheroes?”Itried,pathetically.“TheychoosesomeonefromtheBayeachgamewho’sdoingrealworktogiveback.Let’stakeitbeyondgettingacheckandatwo-minutespotlightatthegame.Whatifwecouldreallyuseourplatformtoelevatetheircommunityefforts?”
Mybeautifulbossesblinkedatme,thenateachother,beforeReyaofferedmeasweet,sympatheticsmile.
“Look,wehearyou.Weknowthat’syourgoal,andit’soneofours,too.”
“Butthisishuge,”Camillacutin.“Like,unheardof.”
“And,honestly,it’stheperfectsegue,”Reyaadded.“VinceTanevisknownforbeingcharitableandspendingtimeinthecommunity.YoucanshowcasethatandshinelightonhowinvolvedtheOspreysare.”
IsuffocatedthegroanIwantedtounleashatthat.EvenifIdidpointoutthefactthatallplayersdidthatshitforpublicrelationspurposes,itwouldn’tchangetheirminds.
Thiswasmyassignment,whetherIlikeditornot.
IthadbeenadreamcometruewhenIwaspulledontotheTBBteam.Iwastheonlyoneoutsideofthefounderstohaveafront-facingrole.Sure,wehadassistantsandadministrators,researchersandmediabuyers,accountmanagersandcreativedirectors,butIwasaBabe
IwasmakingmoremoneythanIeverdreamedof—doingsomethingthatIloved—withtheopportunitytohavemyownsegmentincitingthechangeI’dalwayshopedto.
Ilovedthisjob.
AndifthislittlesegmentwaspartofthejourneytogetmewhereIreallywantedtobe,thensobeit.
“Okay,”Isaidonanexhale.
Thegirlssquealedindelight,andthenIwasyankedupoutofmychairandwrappedinahugbybothofthem.Ilaughedandhuggedthemback.
“Thisisgoingtobesofun,”Camillaexclaimed.
“Yeah,”Iagreed.“Thefunnest.”
“JustwaituntilwetellyouwhattheOspreysarepayingforthis,”Reyasaid,wagglingherbrows.“You’regoingtobelivingthesweetlifeduringthisassignment.They’refootingthebillforeverything.I’mtalkinglavishhotels,acondointhesamebuildingashis,aperdiemsohighyoucouldeatatMichelinStarrestaurantsforeverymeal…”
Sheambledon,buthervoicewentfuzzyinmyears.Myeyesflickedtomyphone,thinkingaboutthebizarrenotificationsI’dscrolledthroughthatmorning.
IwonderedhowVinceTanevwouldrespondtothenews.
ButnotasmuchasIwonderedhowIwasgoingtosurviveamonthupcloseandpersonalwiththecockiestsonofabitchI’devermet.
Andthehottestone,too.DistractionWithaCapitalD
Vince
“You’reserious.”
Itwasn’taquestionsomuchasastatementofmilddisbelief.IarchedabrowatCoachMcCabe,whoseemedaboutaspleasedasDaddyPaftersomeonemanagedtoscoreonhim,beforeIturnedmyattentionbacktoourgeneralmanager
RichardBancroftwasajoyfulman,softaroundthewaistwithpalewhiteskin,gingerhair,androsy-redcheeks.Healwaysworeasmilelikehe’djustfoundouthisonlydaughterwasgettingmarried,andhewasalsoknownforpitchingsomeofthestupidestideaswiththatgrinfirmlyinplace.
HewasknownbystaffandplayersalikeasDick,whichwasthenicknamehegavehimselfbackincollege.Ofcourse,dependingonwhathe’dwrangledtheteamintothatweek,theplayersmighthaveuseditinamorecallouswaythanheintended.
“It’sbrilliant!”hesaid,andIwasn’tsureifhewastryingtosellmeonthatstatementormycoach,whostillworeanunamusedfrownandhisarmsfoldedoverhischest.
WhereDickwassoftandcheery,CoachShaneMcCabewaslean,tall,andsevere.Atthirty-eight,hewasthesecond-youngestcoachintheleague,andonelookattheguytoldyouhehadachiponhisshoulderandapointtoprove.Hewasthekindofcoachaplayerdreamedofworkingwith,onewhowassternandtooknoshit,butalsodidn’trideyourballstoohard.
“Justthinkofthebuzzit’llstirup,”Dickcontinued.“You’rethehottestnewsthisteamhashadsince2004,kid.Andifwedidn’tusethattoouradvantagetofillthoseseats,”headded,pointinginthedirectionoftherink.“Thenwe’dbefools.”
“It’sadistraction,”Coachsaidfromhiscorner.
“It’sagoldmine,”Dickargued,andtherarelookofseveritythatovertookhimashelookedpointedlyatCoachtoldmethiswasn’tupfordebate.
TheTampaBaeBabeswasgoingtodoanexclusive,amonthwalkinginmyshoesintheheightofmyfirstseasonwiththeOspreys.
Andthatfeistylittlesnootfromthegalawastheonewho’dbeinchargeofthepiece.
MavenKing.
Ismirkedalittleatthethoughtofher,thatsamemixtureofcuriosityandindignationflaringinmychest.TosayI’dbeensurprisedwhenI’dlookedherupwouldhavebeenavastunderstatement.
Ididn’tknowwhatIexpectedtofind,butitwasn’tabohemianflowerchildwhohadfifty-thousandfollowersandaloveforbeingbarefootinherparents’garden.Afterseeingheralldolledupinagownwithdiamondsglitteringonherearlobes,ithadbeenashocktoseeherinhernaturalhabitat—earth-tonedflowingfabrics,foundation-freeskin,andnatural,curlyhair.
TheimagesofherwithherfamilywereastarkcontrastoftheonesIhadwithmyown.Myparentsbothcamefrommoney,theirgrandparentssmartwiththeirinvestments.WehadwhatI’dheardreferredtoasgenerationalwealth,thekindthatmeantwereallyneverhadtowantforanything.
Iwasn’ttooproudtoadmitgrowingupinthatatmospherehadspoiledmeabit.Ilikeddesignerclothes,exoticcars,expensiverestaurants,andluxurytravelexperiences.Ididn’tknowwhatitwasliketocheckthepricetagonsomethingbeforeIboughtit—evenbeforeIgotthenicesigningbonusasarookiewiththeOspreys.
Still,myparentsbothhadcareers,eventhoughtheydidn’ttechnicallyneedthemtoprovideforthemselves,andtheybroughtmeandmysisterupwiththesameexpectation.IwasthankfulfortheirsupportwhenItoldthemhockeywasmydream.
Iwaswellawarethatnoteverykidhadtheopportunitytoplayanexpensivesport,letalonehavetheirparentsatalmosteverygame.
I’dspentmoretimethanI’deveradmitscrollingthroughMaven’spicturesandwonderingwhatherchildhoodwaslike,smilingalittlemorewitheachnewdiscoveryImadeatwhoshewasnow.Andseeingapostaboutherparentsandtheirphilanthropicnature,alongwiththedozensofphotosandvideosofheroutinthecommunitywiththem,I,atleast,hadalittlecontexttoputwiththeattitudeshe’dgivenmeatthegala.
Ialsofounditquiteamusing,tohitthelittleheartbuttononafewofherphotosandhavethesatisfactionofknowingshe’dlikelyblowagasketwhenshegotthenotifications.
EvenasintriguingasIfoundher,IagreedwithCoachonthisone.Havinganyonefollowmearoundwouldbeanuisance.Buthavingher?
DistractionwithacapitalD.
ButifthiswaspartofthepathIneededtotaketoimpressmyGMandinchmywayclosertotheCalderMemorialTrophy,thenIwasn’tabouttoargue.Iwantedtoberookieoftheyear,andsometimesthatmeantdoingstupidshitIdidn’twanttoinordertomakethebosseshappy.
ThewayDickwasbehaving,Ididn’tthinkIhadmuchofachoice,anyway.
“WhateverIcandotohelptheteam,I’lldoit,”Ifinallysaid.
“Attaboy!”Dickbeamed,hoppingoutofhischairasIrosetostand,too.HeshookmyhandandclappedmeontheshoulderasIsharedawaryglancewithCoach.“EveryonewhocountedTampaoutyearsagoisabouttoeattheirwords.”
“Yes,sir,”Iagreedwhenwepulledback.
RichardandCoachtalkedforafewminutesbeforewewereexcused,andCoachletoutasighoncewewereoutofthefrontofficesuiteandintheelevatorheadingdowntotheteam’sdomain.
“I’msorry,”hesaid.“I’msureyoucanseetherewasnotalkinghimoutofthatone.”
“It’sfine,”Iassuredhim.“Besides,maybehe’sontosomething.Alittlegoodpresscan’thurt,right?”
Coachliftedabrow.“Aslongasitstaysgood.”
Ismirked,drawingalittlehaloaroundmyheadthatmadeCoachrelaxalittleonalaugh.
“I’msupposedtohaveacallwiththe…”Hepaused,scrunchinghisnose.“Whatdowecallher?Reporter?Influencer?”Heshookhishead.“Regardless,we’retouchingbasethisafternoon.Bancroftiseagertogetherinhereandgetstarted,soIimaginewecanexpectheratpracticeinthemorning.IhopeshesettlesinquicklybecauseweheadtoBostontomorrownight.”
“Oh,good,”Isaidaswesteppedofftheelevatorandmadeourwaytowardthelockerroom.“She’llbeherejustintimeformetosmoketheBeavers.”
“Forustosmokethem,”hecorrected.
“Right,”Isaidwithawink.
Coachjustshookhishead,blowinghiswhistlewhenwemadeitbacktotheice.Ihadtopausetochangeintomyskatesagainwhilehecalledeveryonetogethertorunoverourdrillsfortheday.
“Introublealready,Pidge?”JaxsonaskedwhenIskatedout.
“Nope.JuststeppinginasTampa’sshinynewtoy.”
Hecockedabrow.
“Somereporterisgoingtofollowmearoundforamonth,”Isaidnonchalantly.Then,IloweredmyvoicesoCoachwouldn’tgrillmyassforinterruptinghispractice.“Rememberthegirlintheyellowdressatthegala?”
“Likeanyofuscouldforget.”
“She’stheone.”
“Proposingalready?”Hesmirked.
Iflattenedmylips.“She’sthereporter,theonewho’sdoingthepiece.”
Bothofhisbrowsshotupatthat.“Youmeanshe’sgoingtobetheonefollowingyouaround?”
Inodded.
“Whatalldoesthisentail,exactly?Likejusthereattherink?”
“Everything,”Isaid.“Practice,travel,homegamesandawaygames,too.Mylifeontheroad.Mylifehereinthecity.”
“Like…twenty-fourseven?”
“Apparently.”
Ashit-eatinggrincurledonJaxson’sface.“Interesting.”
Ijustnoddedwithasmileofmyown
Interesting,indeed.TakeYourBestShot
Maven
NothingannoyedmemorethanthefactthatIwasshakinglikealeafwhenIsteppedontotheelevatorthefirstmorningofmynewassignment.Thelovelygentlemanfromthefrontdeskhadpersonallyescortedmeon,holdingthedoorformebeforepushingthebuttonforVince’sflooronceIwasinside.Whenthedoorsclosedagain,Iblewoutafrustratedbreath.
I’dbarelyslept,mymindracingwiththekindofanxietyonlyanunknownassignmentwithveryhighexpectationscouldbring.ReyaandCamillaweredependingonmetohitthisoutofthepark,andIcouldn’tletanythingdistractme.
Leastofall,thepouty-lippedrichboyIwasassignedtocover.
Myeyessnaggedonmyreflectionintheelevatormirrors,andIfeltalittlebetterthatatleastIlookedputtogether.
Colorfulpalazzopantshuggedmyflatstomachandnarrowhipsbeforeflowingdownmylegs,therichorangesandpurplesandturquoisedesignsweavingtogetherinthemostgorgeousway.I’dpairedadelicatewhitetopwithit,thestrapsthinandstretchingovermycollarbone,andjustasliverofmystomachshowing.
Myinkblackhairwasinitsnaturalstate,thecurlsairyandshapedaroundmyfacewiththeperfectvolume,despiteFlorida’shumiditydoingitsdamndesttomakeitfrizz.IhadwhatIcalledafive-minutemakeuproutinethatmostlyconsistedoftintedmoisturizer,browgel,andmascara,butI’drunashinyglossovermylipsandaddedmyfavoritegoldhoopstomyearsasafinaltouch.
Ilookedcalm,confident,andbeautiful.
IjustneededthattopermeateafewlayersdeepersoIfeltallthosethings,too.
Icouldalmostseemyparentsandtheirconfusedexpressionsinmymind,thelooktheygavemewhenItoldthemIwasgoingtocollegeinsteadofintothePeaceCorps,theonetheygavemewhenIgraduatedandtoldthemIwasgoingtofocusonbuildingmybrandonsocialmedia,theonetheygavememostrecentlywhenItoldthemIwasthenewestadditiontotheBabes.
TheywatchedmeliketheyhadnocluewhatthehellIwasdoingwithmylife.
Sadly,theyweren’twrong.
Iwasinastrangepredicament—walkingintoaliteraldreamjobwithmystomachchurning.Ifelttorn,liketwohalvesofafragilepaperheart.BecausealthoughIwasmakingmoremoneythanI’deverknownIcouldearnonmyownandIlovedtheworkIdid,Ifeltalmost…guilty.
Likeitwasn’tenough.
LikeIwasn’tenough.
WhatwasIdoingtobettertheworld,tohelppeople,tomakeadifference?
Addinthefactthatmynewsubjecthadaparticularlyunsettlingeffectonme,andyoucouldsayIwashavingalittlemeltdowninthatelegantelevatorthrustingmetowardmyimpendingdoom.
“Getittogether,Maven,”Icoachedmyself,shakingoutmywrists.ThebanglesontheleftonemadeatinklingsoundasIdid.“Youareabadass,independentwomanwhocandoanything.Youareaprofessional.Andhe’sjustaboywithastick.”
MythroatthickenedwiththosewordsbecauseVinceTanevwasfarfromaboy.
Andasifhe’dheardthewordsandwasintentonprovingmewrong,heansweredhisdoorshirtless,innothingbutathinpairofdarkgreenpajamapantsthatrestedsolowonhiships,Icouldseethebandofhisbriefsbeneaththem.
“Well,goodmorning,sunshine,”hegreeted,holdingthedooropenfartherasifIwassupposedtocomeinside.Themotionsethisbicepsondisplay,hismassivepalmflatonthedoorandproppingitwide.
Hishairthathadbeencarefullystyledatthegalawasachaoticmessnow,thebrownandgoldstrandsofitstickingupthiswayandthat.Helookedlikehe’deitherjustwokenup,orjustrolledaroundinthesheetswithapassionatelover.
Maybeboth.
Hishazeleyesdancedastheystaredbackatme,thatscarlininghiseyebrowsomehowmorepronouncedwhenheworenothingtodistractfromit.
Ihadtoclampmyjawshuttokeepitfromhangingopen.Themusclesofhisabdomenandribsstretchedlikeartunderthelightcomingfrominsidehiscondo.Itcasthalfofhiminawarmglow,andtheotherhalfindarkshadowsfromallthelinesandcuts,hisbodycarvedinthewayonlyanathlete’scanbe.
Clearingmythroat,Iheldmychinhighandcheckedthetimeonmywatch.“Iapologize,yourgeneralmanagertoldmesevenAMsharp.Icanwaitdownstairswhileyougetready.”
“Ibelievehetoldyousevenbecausethat’saboutthirtyminutesafterIusuallywakeup,”Vincesaid.“Andthisissupposedtobeamonthofmylife,right?Itdoesn’tstartwhenIgetdressed.Andgoodthing,sinceIliketobenakedmostofthetime.”
Heatscorchedmyneck,butIheldablankexpressionandblinkedathim.“Canyoupleasenotmakethisdifficult?”
“Me?”Hepressedahandtohisbarechest,andmyeyesfollowedthemovementbeforeIflickedthembackuptomeethisgaze.“I’manangel.Itwasyouwhoinsultedmethefirstnightwemet.”
“Iimagineyouregoisinflatedenoughtohandletheblow.”
Vincesmirked,hiseyestrailingdownthelengthofme.Andjustlikethatnightatthegala,hetookhistime,notevenalittleshamefindinghimashelethisgazelingeroneveryinchofmyskin.HisAdam’sapplebobbedbeforehepushedthedooropenevenfarther,hiseyessnappinguptomeetmine.
“Comeinside,Maven.”
Itwasn’tarequest,butacommand—oneIfeltlikeaboltoflightningcastdownfromZeushimself.Iwetmylips,resistingtheurgetoarguesinceI’dhavetoworkwiththeassholefortheforeseeablefuture.
Withacontainedsigh,Islidpasthim,huggingtheoppositeedgeofthedoorframesoIwouldn’tbrushupagainsthishalf-nakedbody.Heseemedtonotice,too,becauseheworethatdamnsmirkagainwhenthedoorwasshutandIwasinsidehiscondo.
I,however,wasn’tsmilingatall,notwhenItookwhatIcouldseeoftheexpansivepenthouse.
Thearchitecturaldesignwassleekandmasculine,darkmetalsmixingwithrichnaturalwoodstocreateaspacethatfeltascozyasitdiddangerous.I’dwalkeddirectlyintothelivingarea,whichwasdecoratedwithexpensivemodernfurnitureandeclecticartthatwastastefulandsparse.
ThewindowsweretheartIwasmostdrawnto,though,reachingfromthefloorallthewaytotheceilingandshowcasingabrightorangeglowslowlyrisingbeyondthelightsofdowntownTampa.Thecitywasstirringtolife,thedarknessbeingovertakenbythewarmsunthatwouldbringanotherhot,humidOctoberday.
Itwassilent,saveforthesoftsoundofabeat-heavyR&BsongthatstartedwithadeepvoicesingingmelodicallyinEnglish,butthenslidintoFrenchandArabicasthesongprogressed.Themusicsetadistinctvibeasmyeyestrailedthespace,fromthedecorativefireplacethatIwassurewasneverusedforheat,tothespotless,sleekkitchen.
Butmyeyesdidn’tlingermuchonthecarefullydecoratedspace.Instead,theysnaggedonthemessiestcornerintheentirecondo.
Itwastheareadesignedtobeusedasadiningarea,butinstead,itwasanexplosionofpottery.
Itwasalsothemostwarmandinvitingspaceinsidetheotherwisecoolandcleanroom.
Anunfinishedwoodtablewascoveredwithclay,metaltoolsIdidn’tknowthenameof,andhalf-finishedbowls,vases,mugs,andmore.Nexttoitsatapotter’swheel,thepedalandedgesofitcoveredinthesamespecksofclaythatdecoratedthetable.Therewasalsoanelectrickiln,alongwithshelvesandshelvesofeverythingfromsuppliesjustwaitingtobemadeintosomethingtofullyfinishedpiecesofart.
“Goahead,”Vincesaid,shakingmefrommytrance.“Takeyourbestshot.”
Iturnedinadazeandrealizedmylipshadcurledintoasoftsmilefromtakinginthepotterycorner.ItslippedwhenIfoundVinceleaningahipagainsttheedgeofhiskitchenisland,hiseyescuriouswheretheywatchedmeashesippedsomethinghotfromthemuginhishand.
AmugIhadnodoubthehadmoldedhimself.
Itwasoddlyshaped,butbeautifullycoloredandglazed,andhe’dmadeit.He’dcreateditfromrawmaterialswithhandsthatwereusuallywrappedaroundastick,orpunchinganopponentinthenose.
Withoutthinking,withoutasking,Ipulledoutmycamera.ItookonlyenoughtimetoadjustacouplesettingsforthelowlightbeforeIsnappedaphotoofhim.
Hechuckled.“Okay,notthekindofshotIwasreferringto,butIguessit’sbetterthanthealternative.”
“Sorry,”Isaid,lookingdownatthecamerainmyhands.
WhydidIsuddenlyfeelshy,asifI’dseenhimfullynakedorindisposed?
Maybeitwasbecausethatlittlecornerofcreationfeltlikethemostvulnerablepartofhim,andI’dwalkedrightintoitwithoutwarning.
“It’sfine,”hesaid.“Iimaginethat’ssomethingI’llneedtogetusedtoforthis…”Hewavedhishandintheair.“Wholeordeal.PicturesandvideoswhenIleastexpectthem.”
Iofferedasmile.“Ishouldhavewarnedyou.Ijust…”Ipaused,rollingmylipstogetherbeforeIpointedatthemuginhishand.“Youmadethat,didn’tyou?”
Hedidn’tevenlookdown.“Idid.”
“It’sbeautiful.”
IsaidthewordsbeforeIthoughtbetterofthem,andhecockedabrowinsurprise.
That.ThatwaswhyImuchpreferredtobethoughtofasabitchthananythingelse.Becauseinonemoment,withjustatouchofsoftnessshowing,I’dexposedmyneck.Andnow,Vincewaslookingatmelikehispreyratherthanhisopponent.
Islungmycameraaroundmyneck,sniffingandtearingmygazefromhisasIlookedaround.“Anyway,Iguessjust…goaboutyourusualroutine.I’llaskquestionswhenIhavethem,andtakealotofpicturesandvideos.WhenIknowyourschedulebetter,I’dliketostealyouforsomeinterviews,andmaybesomefluffcontentforthepodcast.Ifthere’severanythingyou’redoingthatyoudon’twantoncamera,makesuretotellmebeforehand.”
“SoIcanrequestthingstobeofftherecord?”heasked,andIdidn’tmissthesalacioussmilethataccompaniedthatcomment.
Iignoredhim,carefullyplacingmybagontheedgeofhiscouchbeforeIpulledoutwhatIneeded—pens,notebook,laptop,phone.
“Whattimedoyouexpectwe’llheadout?”
Vincesethismugontheislandbeforeslidinghishandsintohispockets.ThatmotionperfectlyframedanareaofhimIwasverymuchtryingnottolookat,afeatthatwasincreasinglyhardconsideringthethinmaterialofthepantshewore.Addthattothefactthathehadmassivethighsstrainingagainstthefabric,andanasssorocksolidhedidn’tevenhavetoturnaroundformetonotice,anditwasamiracleIkeptmyeyesonhis.
“Practiceisatten,sowe’llwalkoveratabouthalf-pasteight.”
“Great,”Isaid,swallowingandpickingupmynotebooktowritedownafewnotesabouthiscondo.“JustpretendlikeI’mnothere.”
“Easiersaidthandonewhenyoulooklikethat.”
Iblinked,turningtofindhimwearingthatcockygrinagain,hiseyestrailingthelengthofmeinthatslow,carefreewaytheylovedtodosomuch.
“Thisisaprofessionalrelationship,Mr.Tanev,”IsaidwithwhatIhopedwasmoreresolvethanIfelt.
“I’llbeonmybestbehavior,”hesaid,crossingthespacebetweenusinjustafewsmooth,slowstrides.
Hewalkeduntilhewaslessthanafootfrommebeforehestopped,closeenoughthatIcouldfeelhisbodyheatliketheuncomfortablywarmsensationofstandingtooclosetoafire.
WhenIdidn’tbackdown,Vincesmiledatme,hiseyesbouncingbetweenmine.
Then,hepressedahandtothebareskinoverhisheart.“Promise.”BreaktheInternet
Maven
“Isyourheadspinningyet?”
Ichuffedoutalaugh,writingnotesfranticallyinmyphoneasIfollowedtheTampaOspreys’ExecutiveDirectoraround.Wehadfinishedourtourofthearena,landingbackintherinkaftershetookmethroughthelockerrooms,trainingareas,theteamgym,thekitchenandcafeteria,andtheexecutivesuite.Ithadtakennearlytheentirehourofpractice,buttheteamwasstilloutontheice,andIfinishedthenoteIwaswritingonmyphonebeforeswitchingittovideomodesoIcouldgetsomecontent.
“Yes,”IadmittedtoMrs.Lopez.“Butinthebestway.”
Shesmiled,butherhandshotouttostopmebeforeIcouldmakemywayuptothebenchwheretheplayerssatduringthegamessoIcouldgetanunobstructedshotoftheguysontheice.
“Becareful,”shewarned.“Behindthisglass,you’resafe.”Sheknockedontheglassasiftoillustrateherpoint.“Butoutthere,you’vegottobeaware.TrustmewhenIsayyoudon’twantapucktothejaw.”
IthoughtaboutallthegruesomestoriesLiviahadtoldmefromworkingwithhockeyplayersovertheyears,andIgrimaced.
“Fairpoint.MaybeI’llstaybackherefornow.”
Mrs.Lopeznoddedheragreementbeforecheckingherwatch.“Okay.Ineedtogeteverythingreadyfortheteamtoflythisevening.I’llseeyouthen.”
SheleftbeforeIcouldaskwhatshemeant,andthenmyphonewasbuzzinghardinmyhand.IansweredthecallfromReya,onlytobegreetedbyhigh-pitchedsqueals.
“THEACCOUNTALREADYHITONE-HUNDRED-THOUSANDFOLLOWERS!”
Iheldthephoneawayfrommyear,blinking,butasmilespreadonmylipsdespitemyeardrumsnearlybeingblowntobits.
“AndESPNjustsharedyourpost!”Camillaadded.“Sothatnumberisabouttoshootup.”
“AMorningWithVinceCool,”Reyasang.“Imean,Idon’tknowwhatIexpected,butitwasn’tashirtlessVinceTanevinnothingbuthisPJbottomsasourfirstofficialpost.”Sheletoutalowwhistle.“Thosethighs.Toobadwedidn’tgettheviewfromtheback.”
Camillagiggled.“IthinkwebroketheInternet.”
IbarelygotoutathankyoubeforeCamillawasramblingoffabunchoflogistics,includingthesurprisethatIwouldbetravelingwiththeteamtonight,andthatthey’dsecuredmeasmallcondorentalinthesamebuildingasVince,justafewfloorsdown,forwhenwegotback.
“Tonight?”Isqueaked,glancingoutontheicewheretheguyswerestillpracticing.“I…Iwasn’tpreparedforthat.Ineedtopack.AndwhydoIneedtoliveinhisbuilding?Myhouseisonlytwenty-fiveminutesaway.”
“It’sanall-access,twenty-four-sevenaffair,”Reyaremindedme.“Trustus.Thiswillbeeasieroneveryone.Andyou’llbefullyimmersed.Gah.I’mactuallyjealousofyou.”
“Same,”Camillasaidonasigh.
“Idon’tevenhaveanyonelineduptohousesitoranything.Myplants,”Iwhimpered.
ReyaandCamillacooedanawwbeforeReyasaid,“Wewillhandleit.IhaveacopyofyourhousekeyfromthephotoshootwedidtherewhenweannouncedyouasthenewestBabe.”
“Letustakecareofeverythingelse.YoujustfocusonVinceTanev,andgivethesehungrynewfollowerswhatthey’reaskingfor,”Camillaadded.
TheyweremakingkissingnoisesandshooingmeoffthephonebeforeIcouldargue,andwhenthecallended,ItappedtheInstagramicononmyphone,andmyeyesnearlybulgedoutofmyskull.
Theywereright.One-hundred-and-eight-thousandfollowersandcounting.
I’dpostedthatpictureofVinceholdinghishandmademug,thatlittlesmirkonhisfacewhilehestoodthereshirtlessandbathedinmorninglight.AquickglanceatthecommentsectionshowedmethatIwasn’ttheonlywomanintheworldwhodrooledatthesightofhimlikethat.Itwasimpossiblenottowithhowhisabdomenrippledwithmusclesandlines,withhowthewaistbandofthosepajamabottomshuggedhiminthemostperfectway.
Hewassohotitwasn’tfair,andnow,thehockeyworldwaspantingandbeggingformore.
WhenIsawthatESPNhadrepostedthepictureandtaggedouraccountwithcredit,encouragingeveryonetofollowus,Ialmostsquealed.
Excitementbuzzedthroughmelikeanelectriccurrent.
Thisreallywastheopportunityofalifetime.
Sowhat,hockeywasn’texactlywhatIpicturedmyselfbeingknownfor.Thiswasawaytogetnoticed,tobreakoutasaBabeandestablishmyselfintheeyesofourcityandbeyond.
OnceIhadtheirattention,IcouldfocusonwhatIreallywantedthemtosee.
Ourcommunityandthepeoplewhoserveit.
MychestwasstilllightandairywhenIswitchedtothestorymodeandtookavideooftheguysontheice,zoominginslowlyonVinceasheranadrillwithhisteam.Hewassocalmandconfident,carefreeasheglidedacrosstheice,hisshoulderssquaredandhandsgrippinghissticklikeanexpert.Heworeawhitepracticejersey,andevenunderallthepadsshieldinghisbody,hemovedwitheaseinthewayonlyaprocan.
IheldthephonesteadyinmyhandasIframedhimonthescreen.
AndasifI’dplannedit,heshuckedthepuckrightintothenetwithmycamerarolling,rippinghishelmetoffinavictoriousbattlecrylikeithadbeenagameinsteadofpractice.
Hishairwasdrenched,andheshookitoutasheshotoffsomesmartassremarkstohisteammates.Theymethimwithamixtureofgroansandinsults,butafewofthemclappedhimonthebackastheyskatedby.
Then,hiseyesfoundme.
Ihadaboutfifteensecondsleftinthestoryclipasheskatedtowardme,hisfacecomingintoviewmoreandmore.Andwithhismouthslightlypartedandagrincurlingonhislips,hepointedatmyphonewithhisglove.
Andthemotherfuckerwinked.
ItwassohotInearlydroppedthephone,butmanagedtoholdmyhandsstableuntiltheclipranout.
Vincetorehisattentionfrommejustasquicklyashe’dgivenit,slippinghishelmetbackonandfasteningthechinstrapjustintimetolineupforwhatcoachhadplannednext.Iwatchedtheclipplayback,andtheintensitywasevenmorepowerfulthesecondtimearound.
Idebatedwhattexttowritetoaccompanytheclip,buteverythingIthoughtofjustdidn’tmatchtheenergy.
Hewasthestory.
Justhim.
So,Iputnothingmorethanawinky-faceemojiwithitstongueoutatthelowerleft-handcornerofthescreen,andItappedthebuttonthatsentthestoryliveintothesocialmediaatmosphere.
I’djusttuckedmyphoneawayandpulledoutmycameraforafewshotswhenCoachMcCabeblewhiswhistle,andtheteamgatheredaroundwherehestoodforaquickchatbeforetheywereallskatingofftheiceandtowardthetunnelIwasstandingin.
Ipressedmyselfagainstthewall,tryingtobeinvisible,butIdidn’tmissthechancetocapturethemallonvideoastheyhoppedtheboardsandtookofftheirhelmets,makingtheirwaybacktowardthelockerroom.
EachofthemeyedmeeithercuriouslyorlikeIwasalreadyannoyingthemastheypassed.Afewofthemgoofedoffforthecamera,smackingtheirassastheypassedormakingfacessoclosetothelensthattheyfoggeditup.
Vinceheldback,makinghimselfthelastplayerofftheice,andhepausedrightinfrontofwhereIstood,ignoringthecameraandfocusingonme,instead.
“Havingfun,MavenKing?”
“That’sonewordforit,”Isaid.Idebatedrecordingtheexchange,buttuckedmyphoneaway,instead.“Niceshotoutthere.”
“Ididitjustforyou.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Idid,”heinsisted.“IjustimaginedyoujumpingupanddownwhenIscored,chantingmyname.Itwasgreatmotivation.”
“I’msureyouwouldlovetohearmechantyourname,butI’mnotoneofyourfangirls.”
Hetiltedhishead,smirkinglikehehadacomebacktothat,buthekeptitlockedbehindthosecurledlipsofhis.Then,hiseyesflickeddown,andhisscarredeyebrowarchedhigh.
“Letmegrabyouoneofmyjerseysfromtheteamshop,”hesaid,staringabitlongerbeforehisgazefoundmineagain.“Lookslikeyou’realittlecold.”
HewasalreadyhobblingtowardthelockerroomonhisskateswhenIglanceddown,immediatelymortifiedtofindmynipplessohardtheyweredistinctlyvisiblethroughmytop.
IhaddressedforahotFloridaday,notanicerink.
Idiot
“I’mnotwearingyourjersey,”Ishotathim,foldingmyarmsovermychest.
Heturned,walkingbackwardthroughthetunnelonhisskates.“Wannabet?”
“Onlyifyouwanttolose.”
Vinceshrugged,smilinglikehe’dalreadywon.“I’lltakemychances.”
Andthenheturnedanddisappeareddownthetunnel,justintimeforCoachMcCabetostoprightinfrontofmeandblockmyview.
“SorryIdidn’tgetachancetointroducemyselfbefore,”hesaid,extendingahand.
IwasstillshakenupfromtheexchangewithVince,whichwassupremelyannoying,andIblinkedoutofthedazewithasmileasItookCoach’shandinmyown.
“It’sperfectlyokay.You’reabusyman.Ijustwanttothankyouforagreeingtoallthis.”
“Well,itwasn’tmychoice,ifI’mbeingperfectlyhonest,”hesaid,withdrawinghishand.
“Oh.”Mycheeksheated.
“Iwantyoutofeelwelcome,”hesaid.“AndIamhappytogiveyoutheall-accessmygeneralmanagerpromised.However,”heamended,holdinguponesternfinger.“Thelastthingweneedonthisteamisadistraction.”
“Iunderstand,”Isaidbeforehecouldcontinue.“I’llbelikeaflyonthewall,sir.”
Coachgavemeaquickonceover,thensmiledandshookhishead.“Idon’tthinkthat’spossibleforyou,MissKing.”
Heatblastedmyneckoncemore.Itwasn’tlikehewascheckingmeout,morelikehewasjustamanappreciatingthebeautyofawoman.
Also,acoachrealizingwhatadistractionIcouldbetohisteam.
“I’msorryIdidn’tdressappropriately.”
“Youcandresshoweveryoufeelcomfortable,”hesaidquickly.“I’mprettysureyoucouldwearaburlapsackandstillstoptraffic.AllI’maskingisthatiftheguysstartyuckingitupforyou,ifVinceoranyoneelsestartstolosefocusbecausethey’rewantingtobeapartofallthis.”Hewavedhishand.“Just…helpmekeepthemontrack.Okay?Wehavearealshotatawinningseasonthisyear,andIdon’twantthattogoupinflames.”
“Neitherdowe,”Ipromisedhim.
IspokeforusastheTampaBayBabes,theorganization.Butinmyhead,Iwasalsomakingthatstatementforme.ThelastthingIwantedwastheattentionofarich,cockyathlete.
I’dbeenthere,donethat—stillhadthescartoproveit.
Plus,thiswasmyfirstrealtestfromReyaandCamilla.Iwasn’tabouttomessitup.
Henodded,andthenblewoutabreath,checkingthetimeonhiswatch.“Flightisatfour.We’lltakeyoutotheairportinoneofourcars.Bebackhereattwo-thirtysharp.”
Hepausedthen,andheatwashedovermyneckashiseyesfoundmine.Hewassexyashell,adarklineofscruffonhisjawandhissuitalltailoredtoperfection.Ihalf-wonderedifmaybeitshouldbehimwewerecovering—especiallyconsideringhewasoneoftheyoungestcoachesintheleague.
“AndI’dsuggestyoupacksomethingalittlewarmer,”headdedwithawrygrinasheturnedtowardthelockerroom.“Bostoniscoldashell.”AnAbsoluteRocket
Vince
“Ohhhshit,thereheis!”JaxsonsaidwhenIboardedtheteamplane,andhestartedaslowclapthattherestoftheteamjoinedinonastheycheeredandmadecatcalls.
Iarchedabrow,storingmybackpackinthespaceovermyseat.Allourequipmentandluggagewastakencareofbythestaff,sothatbackpackwasallIhaduntilwelandedinBoston.
Whentheapplausedieddown,Jaxsonwrappedhisarmaroundmynecklikehewasgoingtotakemedowninawrestlingmove,buthejustruffledmyhairinstead.
“Ourlittlepigeonhasthewholeworldlosingtheirminds.”
“Andtheirpanties,”Carteraddedwithagrin.
“Wantmetorubyoudownwithoilnexttime,TannyBoy?”Jaxsonaskedwhenhereleasedme.HerubbedmypecstoillustratebeforeIsmackedhishandsawaywithasmileofmyown.
“Wow,I’veneverheardjealousyringoutquitesoloudbefore,”Isaid,takingmyseatbeforeIstretchedmylegsoutconfidently.I’ddressedinmynewestcustomsuitfromStefanoRicci,andIunclaspedthebuttonsofmyjacketasIkickedback.WillwasintheseatbythewindowacrossfromwhereIsat,andJaxsontooktheseatnexttohim.
“What’snext?Posingonthebeachinabananahammock?”
“Nah,Brittzy,”Isaid,flickingmysunglassesdownovermyeyes.“Mycockwouldn’tfitinoneofthose.Nowyouontheotherhand…”
HekickedmebeforeIcouldfinishthejoke,butwewerealllaughing.Well,allofusexceptDaddyP,wholookedoutthewindowwithhisheadphoneson.
Theteamplanewasexpansive,largeenoughtofitclosetotwo-hundredpassengersifitwasdesignedlikeanormalcommercialplane.Butitwasn’t.Instead,hugeleatherseatsdonnedthespace—twofacingforwardandtwofacingbackward—inlittlepodsoffouroneithersideoftheaisle.Thecoachesandstaffusuallysatatthefrontoftheplane,whiletherestofusfilledthemiddleandback,andbeforeweeventookoff,wewerewaitedonbytheflightattendantstaff—thesameoneswhoflewwithuseachandeveryawaygame.
“Seriously,man,isitweird?”Carteraskedwhenhetookaseatacrosstheaislefromme.“Iheardshe’smovingintoyourbuildingandeverything.”
Thatwasnewstome—enticingnews,ifIwasbeinghonest—butIpretendedIalreadyknewasItookawaterfromtheflightattendantandthankedher
“Ithasn’tevenbeenafullday,”Iremindedhim.“Butsofar,itfeelslikenormal.Shetoldmetojustpretendsheisn’there.”
Willsnortedatthat,whichtoldmehewaswearingthoseheadphonesmoreforshowthananythingelse.
“IagreewithDaddyP,”Jaxsonsaid.“Fatchanceinhellyoucanignoreawomanthatfine.”
“I’llneverforgetthatyellowdress,”Carteraddedwithafar-offlook.
“Thatass.”Jaxsonwhistledthroughhisteethasthebothofthemshooktheirheadinmutualagreementthatthosetwowordswereenoughtoconveyawholestory.“She’sanabsoluterocket.”
Ididn’tknowwhymyjawtightenedabitastheyjokedaboutMavenandhowattractiveshewas,becausetheywereright.Itwastrue.Shewasthekindofwomanwhobelongedinmagazinespreads,thekindwhomadeyouforgethowtospeak.I’dalsotossedaroundthesesameremarksandworsewiththeguysaboutdozensofwomenbefore.
WhydiditmakemyhandsrollintofistswhentheytalkedaboutMaventhesameway?
“That’senough,”Iclipped.
Theirsmilesfellalongwithmine.
“She’sessentiallyapartoftheteamnow,”Isaid.“She’sgoingtobeuncomfortableenoughasitisinanewenvironmentwithabunchofsmellybruteslikeyoutwo.Showhersomerespect,orI’llmakeyoushowit.”
JaxsonandCarterbitbacksmiles,glancingbehindmeandthenateachotherbeforeJaxsonputhishandsupinsurrender.
“Surething,Pidge,”Jaxsonsaid.“Wewon’tragonyourgirl.”
“Don’thitonher,either,”Ithreatened,chestpuffingalittlewhenhecalledMavenmygirl.Shewasnowherenearthat,butIlikedthethoughtofestablishingthatclaimevenwhenIdidn’thavetherightto.
Suddenly,someoneclearedtheirthroatovermyhead,andIglancedupandbacktofindMavenstandingtherewithherarmsfoldedoverherchestandanamusedlookonherface.
Ididn’thavetoglancebackattheguystoknowshe’dbeenthereforawhile,especiallywhenIcouldheartheirlaughsfizzlingoutoftheirchests.Iignoredthemaltogether,standingandextendingahandforMaven’sbag.
“Windowseat’syours,doll,”Isaid,smoothingmyknucklesoverherslimshoulderasIremovedherbag.Shekeptherarmscrosseduntilthelastsecondlikeshedidn’twantmyhelp,finallyreleasingthestrapsoIcouldtuckherbaginthebinoverhead.
“I’mnotyourdoll,”shebitback.“AndIwanttheaisle.”
Icluckedmytongue.“Nocando,peach.I’vegotlonglegsIneedtostretchout.”
“Morelikehe’safraidofflyingandbeingtooclosetothewindowmakeshimshithispants,”Carterchimedin.
Ididn’tevenlookathimasmyfistjuttedoutandsluggedhisarm.Helaughedonayelp,rubbingthespotwhileMavenwatchedtheexchangeandIwatchedher.
“VinceTanev,scaredofflying?”Shetiltedherheadabit.“That’ssomethingIdidn’texpect.”
“Oh,I’mfullofsurprises.”
“I’msure,”shesaidwithaslightrollofhereyes.
Itooktheopportunitythentoappraiseheroutfitchange.Imissedthattinyscrapofwhitefabricshe’dbeenwearingasatopearlier,especiallysinceI’dhadthesinfullydeliciousviewofherhardnipplesearlierthatmorning.Mycocktwitchedalittleatthememoryofthosepeaks,ofhowgoosebumpshadtrailedoverherarmswhenI’dletmyeyesrakeoverheranddiscoveredthatfunlittlesurpriselikeatoyinacerealbox.
Now,shehadonlight-coloredjeansandablacklong-sleeveshirt.Herhairwasheldbackbyabrightbluebandanatiedinaknotatthefront,andsilverhoopshungfromherears.Andeventhoughshewasshowinglessskinnowthanshedidthismorning,shewassomehowevenmorealluring.
Itshouldhavebeenillegalforthatwomanwithanasslikeherstowearjeansthattight.
Ididn’thurrymyperusalofher,andwhenIfinallydraggedmyeyesbackuptomeethers,shegavemealookthatsaidwell,areyougoingtomoveor…?
Isteppedabittotheside,justmarginally,likeIdidn’thavethespacetomovemuchfarther.MysmileclimbedonmylipsinadareasMavenassessedthetinysliverofspacebetweenmeandtheseatthatI’dlefthertoslipthrough.
Herjawtightenedasshetookthechallenge,andatfirst,Ithoughtshewasgoingtoramthroughmeandbulldozeherwayintotherow.Butatthelastmoment,herpacechanged,andsheheldherchinhighassheturnedtowardtheseats,herhandsbracingonthebackofthemtosteadyherwhileshesqueezedbyme.
Thatlittleturnmeantherasswaspracticallyinmylapasshedid.
“Excuseme,”shepurred,smirkingbackatmeassheslowlydraggedthatperfect,round,apple-shapedassacrossmygroin.Shedidsoachinglyslow,andmynostrilsflaredatthecontact,handclampingontheseatbehindmetokeepfromreachingoutandgrabbinghertokeepheragainstmelonger.
Whensheslidby,shewatchedmeoutofthecornerofhereyebeforeshecarefullytookthewindowseatandcrossedherlegs.
Ifinallyexhaled,glancingatCarterandJaxsonwhowerewatchingmewithshit-eatinggrinsnow.EvenWillarchedabrowatmebeforeturningtolookoutthewindowagain.
Icrackedmyneck,unfasteningthebuttononmysuitjacketbeforeIslidintotheseatnexttoher.
“Anddon’tcallmepeach,either,”shesaid.
“WhatshouldIcallyou,then,”Iasked.“Girlofmydreams?Sirenoftheseas?”
“HowaboutMaven,sincethat’shername,”DaddyPcutin,blinkingslowlyatmelikeIwasateenageboywhohadclimbedtoohighonhisnerves.Tobefair,Iwasactingabitlikeone,butIcouldn’thelpit
IlikedtopushMaven’sbuttons.
IwonderedwhatwouldhappenifIpushedalltherightones.
Maventonguedhercheekatmewiththatlittleinputfromourgoaltender,andthensheturnedtohim,extendingherhand.“Thankyou.Idon’tthinkwe’veofficiallymet.I’mMavenKing.”
“WillPerry,”hesaidgrufflywithafirm,shortshake.
“WecallhimDaddyP,though,”Jaxsoncutin.
Maven’sbrowstuggedinward.“Why?”
“Well,becausehe’sadaddy—likeactuallyadad.Hehasthecutestkidyou’llevermeet.”
“Butalsobecausehe’siron-fistedandhandsoutpunishmentlikeadad,”Carterexplained.“Andhetreatsthepucklikeaboytryingtotakehisdaughteronadateandhisdaughteristhenet.Noaccessgranted.”
Maven’scheekstingedabitpinkatthat,andshesmiledatWill.“DaddyP.Ilikethat.”
“Weallhavenicknames,”Cartersaid.“It’skindofannoying,honestly,butinescapable,nonetheless.”
“Whatdoyoumean?”Mavenasked.
“Well,itjustsortofhappensinhockey.Sometimesit’saplayonyourlastname,orsometimesyoudoonestupidthinganditbecomesyouridentifierforyears.Sometimesit’sanameearnedfromperformance,likeDaddyPispartforhislastname,Perry,butalsopartPforPickles.”
“Pickles?”Maven’snosescrunchedup.
“Yeah.Becausehe’scoolasacucumberontheice,”Jaxsonsaid.
Mavenlaughed,andthesoundwassoairyandlightthatIwantedtobottleitup.Sheseemedtoberelaxingthemoretheguystalkedtoher,andthebiteshelovedtonipmewithwasslowlyreceding,herteethnolongerbared.
“So,he’sDaddyP,”shesaid,pointingatWillbeforeherfingermovedtoJaxson.“Andyouare?”
“Brittzy,”hesaid.“MylastnameisBrittain.AndthenCarterhereisFabio.”
“Becauseoftheflow,”Cartersaid,slidinghishandbackthroughhismedium-lengthbrownhairbeforethatsamehandranoverhisscruff.ThatmadeWillsnortagainandpinhimwithaglare.
NoonehadbetterhairthanDaddyP.
“BecausehislastnameisFabri,”Jaxsoninterjected.“Andbecausehisgamewiththeladiesisabsoluteshit,socallinghimFabioisironic.”
ThatearnedJaxsonawetwillyfromacrosstheaisle.
“Andwhataboutyou?”Mavenasked,finallyturningtolookatme.Whenshedid,herhoneygoldeneyesdancedalittle.“What’syournickname?”
“Mr.King.”
Shefrowned.“Why?”
“Becausewhenwegetmarried,Ialreadyknowyou’retooindependenttotakemylastname,soIguessI’llhavetotakeyours.”
Anincredulouslaughburstfromherlips,andsheshookherhead,foldingherarmsoverherchestagain.“Youthinkyou’resocute,don’tyou?”
“Likeapuppy.”
“Morelikeadog,”shesaidjustasquickly.
“He’sVinceCooltotheoutsideworld,butwithus,he’sTannyBoy,”Cartersaid.“BecauseonourfirstnightouthegotwastedoncarbombsatO’Briensandkeptrequesting‘DannyBoy’eventhoughthebandwasplayingSouthernRock,notIrishmusic.”
“Nah,he’sjustPidgetome,”Jaxsonsaid,crossingoneankleovertheoppositekneeandbringinghishandsbackbehindhishead.“Alwayswillbe.”
Mavenhadn’ttakenhereyesoffme.
Iwasn’tsureIevercouldtakemyeyesoffher.
“Pidge?”Shefinallyasked.
“Pigeon,”Ianswered.“Justanotherwordforrookie.”
“Ah,”shemused.“Ilikethatone.Pigeon.CanIuseit,too?”
“Youcancallmewhateveryouwantto.Justmakesureyoulikethenameyoupick.”Ileanedinalittlecloser,loweringmyvoice.“Ihaveafeelingyou’llbesayingitalot.Maybeindifferentdecibels,too.Mightwanttotryscreamingitloudandhigh-pitched,justtomakesureitfeelsright.”
Maven’scheeksreddenedagain,justalightpinkflowingoverthosewarmbrowncheekspepperedwithfreckles.Ismirkedatthesightofthatblush,butitwasn’ttherelongbeforeMavenclampedhermouthshutandshookherhead.
“Youaren’tgoingtomakethiseasy,areyou?”sheasked.
Ileanedevencloser.“Behonest.YouwouldhateitifIdid.”
Shedidn’tanswer,butshedidn’thaveto.
Thesmilethatplayedatthecornerofherdusty-roselipstoldmeIwasright.PreciousLittleRituals
Maven
PresentMeneverbeensothankfultoPastMethanIwastheafternoonoftheBostongamewhenIrolledoutmyyogamat.
Pastmehadwonderedifitwouldbenecessarytopack,ifthestaffwouldbeannoyedthatIbroughtit,ifI’devenhavetimetouseit.ButpresentmewassighingwithreliefatthesmallbitofnormalcyasIsteppedontoit.
Iknewitwouldbeimpossibletomeditatethismorning,tofindanywaytoclearmymind,andIhadbeenright.Everythingkickedintogearquickly,andIhadbarelywokenupbeforeIwasonthebuswiththeteamheadedtotherinkfortheirmorningskate.
SonowthatIhadalittletimealoneintheafternoon,Isuccumbedtoallmythoughts,lettingthemracethroughmeasIbeganmypracticeinchild’spose.Ineededtobegrounded.Ineededstillness.
Thelastweekhadbeensuchachaoticblur,Ididn’tknowwheretostarttoeventrytopieceitalltogether.Itwasbeyondmehowonelittlegalawithmybestfriendhadturnedintomyentirelifebeinguprooted.Itwasanexcitingopportunity,butitwasalsodraining—andIwascompletelyoutofmyroutine,outofmycomfortzone,andmorethananything,outofmyusualenergylevel.
Iwassotired,Icouldsleepforayearandstillneedmore.
IdecidedayinpracticewaswhatIneeded,soItransitionedintoabutterflyposeandsettledin.
Theplaneridewiththeteamhadbeenwild—andfun.WillPerry,orDaddyPastheycalledhim,seemedtheonlyonewhowasquietandfocused.Therestoftheplayersletloose,singingloudly,talking,laughing,andplayingcards.
I’dbeenaquietobserverformostofit,takingphotosandvideosandscratchingnotesdowninmynotepadin-betweentextstoLivia.ShewastheonlypersonIknewIcouldtalktowhowouldactuallyunderstand,giventhatsheworkedwiththesebrutesonthedaily.
Iwatchedthemwithasmileonmyface,marvelingathowmuchtheyseemedlikeafamily.Itwaslikeaplanefulloftwentybrothers,andthecoachesandstaffwereliketheircoolunclesratherthantheirdads.Atleast,allofthemexceptMcCabe,whoseemedtobetheonlyoneabletowrangletheboyswithaslittleasawhistleandasternglare.
Whentheguyswereplayingacardgameinourlittlepod,Vincedealtmein,andthoughhedidn’tpry,hemademeapartoftheconversation.
IhatedhowmuchIlovedthat.
I’dhadmymindmadeupabouthim,andwhenheslunghisstupidpickuplinesorcockyjokesmyway,itwaseasytokeephiminthatbox.Hewasaplayboy,acockyathletewhowasusedtothelimelight,andevenmoreusedtoalwaysgettinghisway.Ihadnointerestinhimotherthanwhathewoulddoformycareer.
Ijustneededhimtostaythere,inthatboxI’dplacedhimin,becausewhenheaskedaboutme,whenhestoodupformetotheotherplayerswhenhedidn’trealizeIwasbehindhim?
Thingslikethatmadethelidontheboxpopopen,andIdidn’tlikethethoughtofhimgettingoutofwhereI’dplacedhiminmymind.
Throughouttheday,I’dpostedpicturesandvideostomystoriesontheOneMonthwithVinceCoolaccount,showingeverythingfromtheguysdressedintheirtraveldaysuitsonthetarmactothemwrestlingeachothertothegroundinthehallwayofthehotelonthewaytotheirrooms.Alldaylong,thefollowershadtickedup,andanytimeIpostedanything,ittookonlysecondstohavethousandsoflikesandcomments.Iwasalsoreceivingdirectmessageswithrequestsforwhattheywantedtosee.
Pleaseshowuswhattheydoafterthegamewhentheywin!
OMG,pleasepostwhatbarthey’llbeatsoIcanshowupandmakeVincemyhusband.
Canyoutelluswhatmusichelovestolistento?
Canyoushowuspicturesofhimasakid?
Whatdoesheliketodowhenhe’snotplayinghockey?
IsheDTF?Ifso,howdoIgetinonthat?
HowdoIbecomehiswife?
TellVinceIsaidhe’sapussy.
ThatlastonewasfromJaxsonBrittain,whichmademelaugh.
Bythetimemyheadhitthepillowlastnight,theaccounthadhalf-a-millionfollowers.
Inoneday.
ThatmademychesttightenwithaperformanceanxietyIwasn’tsureI’deverfeltbefore.Italsomademeshakeoffmythoughtsandfocusonmymat.Ineededtoletgoofallthenoise.Otherwise,I’ddrowninit.
Iflowedthroughagentlethirty-minutepracticebeforeIhadtotakeaquickshowerandgetovertoVince’sroom.I’dfilmedalittleofhimatthemorningskate,whichwasjustasrelaxedandfunastheplaneridehadbeen,butthentheteamhadretiredbacktothehoteltogetreadyforthegame.
Ididn’trealizethat,formostofthem,partofthatprocesswastakingalongnap.
SoI’dretreatedtomyroomforalittlemuch-neededsilence,andIfeltabitrefreshedasIgotdressedandreadyformyfirstNHLgame.
BeforeheadingovertoVince’sroom,Icheckedmyreflectioninthemirror.MyoutfitwasmuchmoreappropriatethanwhatI’dwornthedaybefore.Ichoseachicpairofcreamslacksandawhiteblouse,pairingaroyalblueblazerwithittomatchtheteam’scolorsandtokeepmyselfwarm.Mycurlswerebouncyandvoluminous,butwithoutthefrizzIusuallyhadinFlorida.IabsentmindedlywonderedifwomenintheNortheasteverhadtodealwithhumidityoriftheirhairalwayslookedflawless.I’dalsodecidedtowearmyfavoritepairofnudeheels,givingmyselfalittleheight.Ijustprayedmyfeetwouldn’tbeintoomuchpainbytheendofthenight.
Mymakeupwassoftandneutral,thewayIapplieditwhenIwantedittolooklikeIwasn’tevenwearinganyatall.Iusedjustenoughconcealerandfoundationtosmoothmyskinbutstillletmyfrecklespopthrough,andIenhancedmybrowswithalittlegelbeforerunningmascaraovermylashes.Anudeglossfinishedthelook,callingattentiontooneofmyfavoriteassets.Ilovedmylips,myteeth,mysmileasawhole
WhenIaddedadelicatepairofgoldearclimbersandadaintychainnecklacethathungperfectlyintheVofmyblouse,Icalleditdone,andthenIwasoutthedoorandonmywaytoVince’sroom.
Whichwas,conveniently,rightnextdoor.
Ipulledadeepinhalethroughmynose,forcingasmilebeforeIrappedmyknucklesonthewood.Iwasabouttoknockagainwhenthedoorflewopen.
Vincewasonceagainshirtless,andthistime,hewasinnothingbutapairofnavybluebriefs.
Ithappenedsofast—himslingingthedooropen,runningahandbackthroughhismessyhairasheyawnedandhelditopenwideformetocomein.Hewasjustatiredmanwakingupfromanapinhisunderwear,nothingoutoftheordinaryforhim.
Butforme,itwaslikeseeingoneofthesevenwondersoftheworld.
EvenifIwasusedtohisridiculousabdomenandchest—whichIwasn’t,bytheway—Iwasnowfacetofacewithhismonsterthighs,too.Theystrainedagainstthefabricofhisunderwear,thoughnotasmuchasanotherpartofhim,whichwasframedperfectlybythewhitestitchinginthefrontofthosebluebriefs.
Hewasalsoverymuchatattention.
Vincedidn’tseemtonotice.Hejustheldthedooropenwider,andthenonceIhadmyhandonit,turnedtowalkfartherintohissuite.Andwhenhedid,Igapedforanotherreasonaltogether
VinceTanevhadanassofstone.
ItwasthelargestI’deverseenonanymaninmylife,butitwasalsocut,themusclesleanandadipinthesideofeachcheekshowcasingashewalked.I’dhadasneakysuspicionwhenI’dseenthemalldressedintheirsuitsearlier,butnow,Ihadthatsuspicionverified.
Hockeyplayershadthebestassesintheentireworld.
Therewasjustnodebatingit.
“Coffee?”heaskedmeashewalkedintothekitchenareaofhissuite,alreadypouringacupforhimself.Heturnedandleanedagainstthecounter,andonceagain,myeyesflickedtowherehiserectionwas.
Hefollowedmygaze.
Andthenthebastardsmirked,shrugging.
“Sorryaboutthat,”hesaid,reachingdowntoadjusthimself.Ihadtotearmyeyesawayandlookupattheceiling,becauseseeinghisgargantuanhandwrappedaroundhismassivecockashecasuallygrabbedhimselfwastoomuchforanywomantowithstand—evenonewhoknewhewasaplayboy.
“Gooddreamduringthatnap,Itakeit?”Isaid,hopingthatcameoutasajokemorethanaquestionIactuallywantedtheanswerto.
“Averygooddream,”hesaid,sippingtheblackcoffeeinhismug.“Youwereinit.”
Thatmademesuckmyteeth,andwhenIleveledhimwithaglare,hechuckled.
“I’mgoingtostartgettingmyselfready,”hesaid.“And…Iknowit’skindofbeenfunandgamesupuntilthispoint,butit’sgameday,andmypre-gameritualmeansalottome.So…”
“I’llstayoutofyourway,”Ipromised.“Justignoreme.”
Hiseyesflickeredalittlebitwheretheyranoverme.“You’reentirelyoblivioustowhatafoxyouare,aren’tyou?”
Myneckwarmedathiswords,butIdidn’tletmyselfsmileorblushbeneaththem.Instead,Ipulledoutmyphoneandsnappedapictureofhim.
“Keepmakingcommentslikethat,andI’llpostthispictureofyouinyourunderwear.”
“Goahead,”hedaredonanothershrug,pushingoffthecounterandheadingtowardthebedroompartofthesuite.“MaybeaBostonBunnywillseeitandfindmeafterthegame.”
“Pig,”Icalledafterhim,andhisdeeplaughwasthelastthingIheardbeforehewasrunningtheshower.
Truetomyword,ItriedtobeinvisibleasVinceranthroughhispre-gameroutine.TheonlyquestionIaskedwaswhathedidbeforeIgotthere,towhichhetoldmehehadabigpre-gamemeal—whichapparentlywasthesameforhimeverygame,ahugeheapingpileofsomesortofpasta—andalongnapwiththeairconditioningturneddowntosixtydegrees.I’dwonderedwhyIhadbeenfreezingwhenIfirstwalkedin,andnowIhadmyanswer.
ThatlittletidbitofknowledgealongwithwhatIobservedhimdohadmesmilingtomyself.
VinceCoolwassuperstitious.
Hedidn’tshaveongamedays,andhealsobrushedhisteethnotoncebuttwice—onceafterhefinishedhiscoffeeandanothertimeafterhehadhispre-gamesnack,whichwasapieceofwheattoastslatheredinpeanutbutterandtoppedwithbananas.
Hegotdressedinaveryparticularlyorder,andhepackedhisbagtotaketothestadiuminaveryparticularway,too.Whenweweregettingclosetoreadytoleave,hedroppedtothegroundanddidfourpushups.Onlyfour.Then,hesurprisedmefurtherbycallinghislittlesister.
Herbrightblueeyesfilledthescreen,andshelookedsomuchlikeVinceIwonderediftheyweretwins.ButaquickGooglesearchtoldmeshewasayear-and-a-halfyoungerthanhim.
“Hey,bigbro,”shesang,hersmilewide,teethliketheonesyousawonorthodontistbillboards.“Youreadytokickass?”
“Almost.”
Shesighedonalaugh.“Youknow,Imightbegettingtoooldforthis.”
“You’renotallowedto.Ever.Youknowtherules.”
“Yeah,yeah,pre-gameritual,”shesaidwithagrin.Sheperkedupwhenshesawmestandingbehindherbrother.“Oh!You’reMavenKing!”
Vinceheldthephoneatabetterangleforhertoseeme.“Iam,”Isaidwithanawkwardwave.“Hello.”
“Hi!I’mGrace,Vinny’ssister.Nicetomeetyou.I’msoexcitedforthispieceyou’redoingonmybrother.”Shepaused,hernosewrinkling.“Icoulddowithyoushowinghimwithmoreclotheson,though.”
Ilaughed,andVincepointedthephonebackathimself.“Comeon,sis.Gottagivethepeoplewhattheywant.”
“Isn’twhattheywantsupposedtobeyouscoringgoals?”
“Yes,”hesaid.“Andmakingthemcreamtheirpanties.”
“Ew!”shescreamedatthesametimeIsaid,“Gross!”
Vincesmiledvictoriously.“Alright,weneedtogetdownstairsforthebus.Let’sgo.”
“Fine,”shesangagain,andthensheproppedherphoneupsoshecouldstandinthemiddleoftheroom.Ididn’tknowwhereshewas,butitlookedlikeacollegedorm,andsheswungalegoutlikeshewastestingthespacearoundher.
IpulledoutmyphoneandrecordedVincefrombehind,archingabrowathimandthenthescreen.
Then,Gracestartedsinging.
Well,itwasn’treallysingingasmuchasitwashalf-cheering,half-squawkinglikeabird.Shedidthemostridiculousdance,herhairflyingaboutasshechirpedsomethingaboutfortyone,bestunderthesun,fortyone,let’shavesomefun,Vinny,Vinny,you’resocool,you’resocoolyouruletheschoolandthensheendeditallwithabacktuckintoasplit.
Vincehelduphisfistwhenshefinished.“Perfectten.”
“Iknow,”shesaid,climbingtoherfeet.“Goget’em,bigbro.”
“Later,sis.”
Thecallendedasabruptlyasithadbegun,andIturnedoffmyownvideo,momentarilystunned.
“Um…”Ilaughed.“Whatwasthat?”
Vinceshrugged,andInoticedhe’dslippedoutofhisusualgoofydemeanorintoonemoreserious.Thetransitionhadbeenslow,startingfromthemomentI’dwalkedinthedoorandgettingmoresevereasthehourstickedon.
Hewasmentallypreparinghimselfforthegame,thatmuchwaseasytosee.
“Justalittletradition,”hesaid
Icouldn’thelpbutlaughagain.“What—yourlittlesisterdoingabizarredanceandbackflip?”
“Yes,”hesaid,snappinghiseyestomine.“Isthereanissue?”
Iswallowedunderhisgaze,whichwasharderthaniteverhadbeenwhenitwasonme.“No,”Isaid.“Ijustwasn’tawareyouneededsomeonetosquawklikeabirdtofeelgameready.”
Henarrowedhisgaze,standingfromwherehehadbeenonthecouch.Italwaystookmybreathaway,howtallandbroadhewas.“ItwassomethingshedidtocheermeupbeforeagameinhighschoolwhenIwasonashitstreak.Igotahattrickthatgame,andsonowit’sroutine.”
“But…you’velostgamessincethen,”Ipointedout.“Soitcan’talwayswork.”
“Youdon’tgetit.”
HewasgatheringthelastofhisthingstoheadoutthedoorwhenIcuthimoff.“Soexplainittome.”
Hesighed,lookingupattheceiling.Themovementexposedthatlongcolumnofhisthroat,andItracedhisAdam’sapplewithaboltofelectricityfiringoffbetweenmythighs.
Howisthisman’sthroatsodamnhot?
“Ican’t.It’sjust…Idon’tknow.SomethingIhavetodo.”
Hewalkedtowardhisbedroomthen,whichconfusedme,sinceweneededtoheaddownstairs.Ifollowedhim,andwhenheturnedonhisclosetlightinsteadofflickingitofflikeanormalpersonwoulddobeforetheyleft,Ilaughed.
“Don’ttellmethisispartofit,too?”
Hedidn’tanswer,butthemuscleinhisjawticced.
Ishookmyheadonanotherquietlaugh,jottingitalldowninmynotes.“What’snext?Goingtohopononefoot,rubbingyourbellyandpattingyourheadatthesametime?”
Atthat,Vincegrittedhisteeth,themuscleofhisjawflexingunderhisskin.“Canyoustopbeingsuchabitch?”
Myjawfellopenatthat.
“Whatdidyoujust—”
“Abitch.That’swhatIcalledyou.Becausethat’swhatyou’reactinglike.”Hesteppedintomyspace,suckingalltheairoutoftheroomwhenhedid.“Maybethisisn’timportanttoyou.Maybeallyoucanfocusonisgettingyourlittlephotosandvideosandlikesandshares.Butjustlikethat’syourcareer,thisismine,okay?It’smywholefuckinglife.”Hesteppedevencloser.“It’simportanttome.Andifyoucan’trespectthat,thenwecan’tworktogether.”
Wewerechesttochestnow,andhiswasheavingalmostashardasmine.
“You’resuchabastard,”Isaid,liftingmychintolethimknowIwasn’tbackingdown.“So,what?I’mabitchbecauseIdidn’tsmileandtellyouhowadorableyouarewhenyoudoidiotic,superstitiousstuntsbeforeagame?”
Hepuffedhischestevenmore,andthatscarredeyebrowdippedlowandmenacing.
Icouldn’texplainit,theelectricitybuzzingthroughmethen.Hewasangry.Hewasstaringatmelikehewantedtowringmyneck.
Andsomethinginsidemewasgiddyaboutit.
“Fine,”Isaidafteramoment,draggingthewordout.IknewIsoundedlikethebitchhe’daccusedmeofbeingevenasthewordscameoutofmymouth,fullofsarcasmandnotgenuineintheleast,butIcouldn’thelpit.Iwantedtotesthim,toseejusthowfarIcouldpush.“I’msorry.HowdareInotunderstandwhyit’ssoimportanttoturnonyourclosetlightbeforeagame?Ipromisetobemorerespectfulofyourpreciouslittlerituals.”Ismiledsweetly.“Okay,TannyBoy?”
HishandshotoutsofastIcouldn’tregisterit.
Oneminute,Iwassmilingupathimwithmylittlejest.
Thenext,hehadmychingrippedtightbetweenhisthumbandforefinger,hisknuckleguidingmychinupevenfarthersohecouldproperlylookdownatme.Hewasjustaboveme,hislipsmaybeonlyaninchfrommine,socloseIcouldsmellthemintonhisbreathwhenhespoke.
“Ifonlyyouhadsomethingbettertodowiththissmartmouthofyours.”
Hespatthewordslikeacurse,likehewantedtothrowmetothegroundandleavemethere.Instead,heheldmychininplace,darkhazeleyesflickingbetweenminebeforetheyfelltomylipsandstaredhardandlong.
Shockzippedthroughmefromwherehisbruisinggripheldmychin,butitwasquicklywashedawaybythestronger,moreprevalentsensationIcouldn’tquitename.Itwashotandcharged,recklessandconsuming.
Ishouldhavebeenappalled.Intimidated.Scared,even.
Instead,Iwasaroused.
Ididn’thaveasingleounceoffearinmethathewouldhurtme.Iwasn’tafraidofhowhardhegrippedme,orhowhewassocloseIcouldfeelhisbreathonmylips.
AllIcouldfocusonwashishazeleyesandhowtheydarkenedthelongerhestaredatmymouth.
Heblinked,threetimesinrapidsuccession,likehewaswakingupfromasleepwalkingdream.Hisexpressionsoftened,alongwiththisgrip.
Vincereleasedme,tiltinghischinabithigherbeforeheturnedandtookalltheheatwithhim.
Hegrabbedhisbagwithoutanotherlookinmydirection,tossingitoverhisshoulderandbarrelingoutofthesuitewiththedoorclickingshutbehindhim.
AndIjuststoodthere,blinking,suckinginabreaththatburnedasmyhandsfloateduptotracewherehishadbeen.
Whattheactualfuckwasthat?ExtraCredit
Maven
AmIcrazy?
ThosewerethewordsonrepeatinmymindasIloadedupontothebuswiththeteam.Theygrewevenlouderwhenwearrivedatthestadium,theguysmuchmoresubduednowthantheywereontheplanerideorevenduringthemorningskate.Now,theywereallquietandfocusedlikeDaddyPhadbeen,whethertheyweretapingtheirsticksorwatchingfilmorstretchinginthecornerofthelockerroom.
Meanwhile,IwaspretendingtofocuswhilemybrainturnedoverwhathadhappenedinVince’sroom.
Ishouldreportthat,Ithought.Butthatnotiononlylastedforasplitsecondbeforethemorepressingonetookitsplace.
Thatshouldn’thaveturnedmeon.
Iknewitwastrue,andyet,mybodywasstilltenseinthemostexhilaratingwayfromtheexchange.Icouldclosemyeyesonablinkandseethewholesceneplayoutagain—himstandingoverme,hishandgrippingmychintightly,hiseyeshardonminebeforetheyfelltomymouth.
Ishivered,andthenmyskincrawledlikeacoldfronthadjustblownin.IlookedacrosstheroomatwhereVincewastapinghisstick.
Hishandswereatwork,buthiseyeswereonme.
Hewatchedmeforalongpausebeforehetorehisgazeaway,hisjawtight,andcontinuedworkingonhisstick.
Thatwasthelasttimehelookedatmetheentiregame.
Itwasn’tmyfirsttimewatchinganNHLgame,butitwasmyfirsttimewatchingonelive.And,tobehonest,itwasmyfirsttimewhereIactuallypaidattention.HockeywasbiginTampa.Asalife-longresident,itwasimpossibletoescapethebigplayoffpartieshostedallaroundthecity.I’dgonewithfriendsorevenwatchedwithmydadatimeortwo,butthegamesweremostlybackgroundnoisewhileItalkedtomyfriendsorscrolledonmyphone.
Tonight,Iwasstandingbehindtheglassatthemouthofthetunnel,rightnexttowheretheplayerslinedthebench.Ihadchillsliningmyarmsandmyphoneclampedinshakyhands.
TherushofadrenalineIfeltwaslikeridingarollercoasterwithoutaseatbelt.
Fromthemomentthepuckdropped,Iwasinatrance,takingphotosandvideoswhilealsofranticallywritingoutnotesinmyphone—andquestions.SomanyquestionsIwantedtoaskVincelater,likehowtheywereabletochangelinessoseamlessly,howtheywereabletoskatesohardforminutesatatime,howtheywereabletocatchtheirbreathbeforebeingputbackontheice.Also,whatwerethosesaltstheysmelled?Andwhydidtheydoit?Whywastrippingapenalty,butbeingshovedhardintotheboardswasseeminglyfine?
Theenergyfromthecrowdonlyampedupmybuzzmore,andthiswasanawaygame.Icouldn’timaginewhatitwouldbelikeathome,andIcouldn’twaittofindout.
Attheendofthefirstperiod,noonehadscored,butitwasn’tbecausetheteamsweren’tplayingwell.Itwastheopposite,actually,BostonandTampadukingitoutlikethey’dsoonergetnuttappedthanlettheotheronescore.
Inthelockerroom,CoachMcCabegaveafewwordsofencouragement,tellingtheguystokeepdoingwhattheyweredoingbuttofightharder.
“Youwantthis,”heremindedthem.“Butsodothey.Wantingitisn’tenough.You’vegottoneedit.You’vegottoneedthatwinsobadlyyouwillfightlikeit’swinordie.”
CoachletmesitattheedgeofthebenchthenextperiodafterI’dbeggedhimforaglass-freevideo.Ihadahelmetstrappedtomyhead,justincase.
Asthepuckwasdropped,IthoughtaboutwhatCoachhadsaidtomeyesterday,abouthowtheyhadarealshotthisseason.IknewVinceTanevwasabigpartofwhyhebelievedthat,andwhenVincescoredagoalwithinthefirstminuteofthesecondperiod,Iunderstoodwhy.
Hewasabeast.
Or,asIheardacoupleofguysonthebenchcallhim,abeaut.
Thatonegoalseemedlikeamatchthatlithisfuse,andhewentofflikeabombafterthat.Hehadanassisttothecenterinhisline,bringingthemupbytwo,andthenwhenBostoncaughtupandthegamewastiedinthethirdperiodwithjustfourminuteslefttoplay,hescoredagain,renderingthearenacompletelysilentwhileheandtheteamcelebrated.
Itwasafterthatgoalthathefinallylookedatme.
Hiseyessparkledbehindtheshieldofhishelmet,andheskatedoversofluidlytowhereIsat,itwaslikehe’dbeenbornonthoseblades.Itookmyphoneoutandfocusedthevideocameraonhim,andalittlesmirkclimbedonhislips.
“Sickcelly,Pigeon,”aplayeryelledfromthebenchbesideme,andVinceliftedhisheadinalittlenodofacknowledgementbeforehoppingovertheboards.
Buthedidn’tsitonthebench.
Instead,hesatrightthereontheledge,rightinfrontofme,allpaddedupandsweatyandhotashellasheleanedforward,elbowsrestingonhisknees.Ihadthecameratrainedonhim,buthewasn’tlookingatthelens.
Hewaslookingdirectlyatme.
Vincedidn’tsayaword,justsatthere,smirking,hiseyeszeroedinonminewithsomesortofchallengelyingbehindthem.Slowly,Idroppedthecamera,meetinghisgazewithmyowninsteadofwatchinghimthroughthescreen.
Hissmileclimbedhigher.
“Alright,Tanev,”CoachMcCabesaidfromwherehestoodagainsttheglass.“There’sstillagamegoingon.Assonthebench.”
Vincekepthiseyesonmeashestood,andthenhewinked,wettinghislipsalittleashestrodetotheendofthebenchtotakeaseat.
Myheartwashammeringinmychestwhenthepuckwasdropped,andmyphonebuzzedsohardinmyhandIjumped.WhenIcheckedthetext,itwasfromLivia
Livia:Ohhhh,girl.Youareintrouble.
Me:What?Whathappened?
Livia:TheyjustshowedthatwholeexchangebetweenyouandVinceonTV,that’swhathappened.
Iswallowed.
Me:Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout.
Livia:Sure.Let’sgowiththat.
Livia:Butbehonest…youneedtochangeyourunderwear,don’tyou?
Me:You’redisgusting.
Livia:AndYOUarelyingtoyourself.
Me:Thisisanassignment,Liv.Nothingmore.
Livia:Uh-huh.Lookstomelikeyoumighthaveanextracreditopportunity.??
Me:Goodbye.
Icouldn’thelpthelittlelaughthatleftmewhenIsawthestringofemojismybestfriendrespondedwith,butIexitedtheconversationandpulledupmyvideocamerajustintimetocatchthelasttensecondsofplay.Ourteamcelebratedontheicewhilethehometeamskatedoffsilently,andonlyahandfuloffanscheeredinthecrowdwhiletherestwerehangingtheirheadsontheexit.
Afteraquickcelebratoryskatearoundtherinkwherealltheguyshammeditup,Ifollowedthembacktothelockerroom—thevery,verysmellylockerroom—halfwaylisteningtotheircelebrationswhileIpostedVince’sgoalandthefinalscore.
JustbecauseIwascurious,Irefreshedtheappafterthirtyseconds.
Andthepostalreadyhadmorethanten-thousandlikesandhundredsofcomments.
Ishookmyhead.Itwasjust…ludicrous,theamountofpeoplewhowereinvestedinhim,inhislife,inhisbody.IabsentmindedlywonderedwhatkindofpressurethatwouldputonapersonasItuckedmyphoneintomypurse.
Onceitwasputaway,Ikneadedmytempleswithmyfingers.Somuchscreentimewasgivingmeaheadache,alongwiththeinsanityofthepastweekandwearingahelmetnotmadeforme.Andwestillhadtopackandflyhome.
Iunderstoodtheappealofflyingafterthegame,ofbeingabletogotosleepinyourownbedbackinyourowncity,especiallysincewehadahomegameinacoupledays.ButIhopeditwouldn’tbetooloudontheflight.AllIwantedwastocatchsomeZs.
“Aw,comeon,itcan’tbethatbad.”
IopenedmyeyestofindVincestandingoverme.Hishairwassoakingwet,stickingtohisforeheadandneckjustlikehist-shirtwasstickingtohischest.Iassumedheworethatunderhispads,becauseitwascompletelydrenched.Healsoworeapairofequallywetshortsandstillhadhisshinpadson.
“Oh,areyoutalkingtomeagain?”
“Fornow.”
Ismiled,myskinstillbuzzingfromourearlierexchange.Butthatmenacinggazeofhiswasgone,andhewastheVinceTanevIknewagain.Playful.Charming.Annoyinglyso.
“Congratulationsonthewin,”Ioffered.
“Thankyou.Stillthinkmypre-gameritualsarestupid?”
“Ineversaidtheywerestupid,”Idefended.“But…doesthismeanwehavetofightbeforeeverygamenow?Becausewedid,andyouwon,so…”
Hescrubbedahandoverhisjawwithadevilishgrin.
“Soundslikefuntome,”hesaid,hiseyesfollowingthelineofmynecklacewhereitdippedundermyblouse.“Butonlyifwegettokissandmakeupafterward.”
HewaggledhisbrowsasIflattenedmylips.
AndthenhewastackledfrombehindbyCarterbeforeIgotthechancetotellhimthatwasnevergoingtohappen.GoodMorningtoMe
Vince
IwokeupbrightandearlySundaymorninginTampawitharaginghard-on.
Ihadsomuchtestosteroneflowingthroughmeafterwinninganawaygameagainstoneofthebestteamsinourdivision,IfeltlikeIcouldpickacarupovermyheadandthrowitahundredyards.AddinthefactthatI’dnowspentforty-eighthourswithMavenKinginvadingeveryinchofmylife,anditdidn’tsurprisemetowakeupwithmorningwood.
MyeyesclosedonagroanasIpalmedmyself,andthefirstthingIthoughtofwasherrubbingherassagainstmeontheplaneinthosetight-as-sinjeans.Ikickedmysheetsoff,notevenalittleashamedasIgaveinandpumpedmyselftothememory.Isawherinthatyellowdressfromthegala,picturedherdaringeyesandthatsweetmouthofhersthatlovedtosassbackwhenIchallengedher.
WhenIthoughtofhowthosehoneyeyeshadwidenedwhenItookherbythechin,whenIforcedhertolookatmewhileIstaredathermouth,Icame.
ItwasamemoryI’dstoreawayforlife,howherdelicateneckhadbeenexposedforme,herpulsethrummingunderthesurfaceandbeggingtobekissed,tobelicked,tobebitten.Icouldreplaythewayhereyesdilatedforyears,howallthatgoldhadbeenswallowedup,herchestrisingandfallinginahypnotizingrhythmasshestaredupatmeandwaitedforacommand.
Shelikedit,whenItookcontrolofherlikethat,whenIshutherup.
Whethershe’deveradmititornotwasanotherstoryentirely.
AfterIcleanedup,Iranahotshower,andmythoughtsofMaventurnedlesssexualandmoreguilty.NotthatIfeltguiltyforfuckingmyhandatthethoughtofher,becauseIdidn’t,butratherthatIfeltbadforsnappingatherbeforethegame,forbeingtheassholeshealreadythoughtIwas.
Ifweweregoingtoworktogetherforamonth,Ineededtomakethingsright.
Withatowelaroundmywaist,Ipaddedintomybedroomandgrabbedmyphoneoffthenightstand,thumbingoutatexttoher.
Me:Breakfast?
Maven:Where?
Me:Myplace.
Maven:You…cook?
Me:ToldyouI’mfullofsurprises.
Maven:Youbetternotservemeburnttoast.Seeyouintwenty.
Rightontime,sheknockedonmydoorjustasIfinishedmixingupmymom’sfamouswafflemix.Shewasafuckingvisioninmydoorway,wearingaflowybohemiandressthatcinchedherwaistandframedherslightbreastsintwotriangleslipsoffabric.Theskirtdrapeddowntoherankles,buttwoslitsoneachsiderevealedhertonedlegsbeneath.Sheofferedatentative,almostnervoussmilewhenIanswered,herfacevoidofmakeup,andonlyasimplepairofearringsdonningherlobes.Herblackhairwaspulledupintoapoofontopofherhead,theedgesofitstyledinswirlingdesignsthatframedherforeheadandtemples.
“Damn,”Isaid,andIthoughtI’dsaidittomyself,butwhenthecornerofMaven’slipscurledsoftly,IknewIhadn’t.So,Iownedit.“Goodmorningtome.”
“Shutup,”shesaid,softlypressingherhandagainstmychestasshepushedpastmeandintomycondo.Ishutthedoorbehindherbeforemakingmywayintothekitchen,andMavenslidintooneofmybarstoolslikeshe’dbeenthereahundredtimes,settingherpurseontheisland.
“Ihopeyou’rehungry.”
“AndIhopeyou’renottryingtopoisonme,”shesaid,eyeingthegoopIwasmixingup.Isprayedthewafflemakerbeforedumpingthemixinandclosingthelid.
“NowwhywouldIdothat?You’reworkingwondersformybrandrightnow.”
“Well,youdidlooklikeyouweretwosecondsfromkillingmelastnight.”
Mythroattightenedatthat,andonceIhadflippedthewaffle-maker,Ileanedahipagainstthecounterandcrossedmyarms,turningtofaceher.
“I’msorry,Maven.”
Sheseemedsurprisedbythegenuineapology.
“It’sfine,”shetried,wavingmeoff.“I—”
“It’snotfine.Iwasajerk,andyoudidn’tdeservethat.I’msorry.”
Sheswallowed.“Oh.Well…thankyou.”
“Ijust…Iamacreatureofhabitandroutine,especiallywhenitcomestogamedays.Icangetalittlecrazy,Iguess.”
“I’msorry,too,”shesaid.“Formakingfunoftheprocess.Iwascuriousatfirst,butthen,IadmitIfounditabitbizarre.”Shechuckledatthat.“AndthenIsawhowworkedupyouweregettingandI…”
“Youwantedtopushmybuttons.”
Shebittheinsideofherliplikeshewasashamed.Then,hersmileleveledout,eyessearchingmine,andIwonderedifshewasrememberingwhatI’ddoneaftershemouthedofftome.
Iwonderedwhatshe’ddoifIdiditagain,rightnow,withoutallthatangersimmeringbetweenus.WhatwouldhereyeslooklikeifIwrappedmyhandaroundherthroatandsqueezedjustalittlebit…
“It’sokay,”Itoldher.“Iliketopushyours,too.”
IturnedbacktotendtoherwafflebeforeIgotthesatisfactionofseeingthelookonherface.Onceitwasonaplate,IdresseditwiththesweetcreamcheeseI’dmixedup,alongwiththeblueberrycompoteandfreshblueberriesandstrawberriesontop.ItlookedlikeaculinarysensationbythetimeIslidtheplateinfrontofher,andMaven’seyeslitup.
Sheeyedmecuriouslybeforetakingoutherphoneandsnappingapictureofthewaffle.Shesnappedoneofme,too,standingattheislandwithmypalmsonthecounter,smilingatthecamera.Ihadnoproblemcheesingitupforthepublic—especiallysinceIwantedmynameatthetopofeveryone’smindwhenitcametoselectingRookieoftheYear.
Onceshehadherpictures,shetuckedherphoneawayandforkedoffthecornerofthewaffle.
“Makesureyougettheberries,”Icoached,whichmadehersmile.
Then,shetookherfirstbite,moaningwithhereyesclosedasItriednottostareatwherehertonguedartedouttolickthecompotefromherlips.
“Hngg,”shesaidaroundthemouthful,swallowingbeforehereyespoppedopenandlockedonmine.“Holyshit,thisisgood.”
“Alwayssosurprised,”Ichastised,butIsmiledinvictorywhenIturnedawaytomakemyownwaffle.
MavenwasalmostdonewithhersbythetimeIsatdownnexttoherwithmyown,andsherubbedherbellyasifitwasabeergut,sinkingbackinherchair.
“Callmeimpressed.”
“IthoughtIwasonlysupposedtocallyouMaven.”
Shestuckhertongueoutatmebeforeleaningherchinonherpalm,watchingasItookmyfirstbite.“So,Itakeityouandyoursisterareprettyclose.Especiallyifshelovesyouenoughtodothatwholepre-gamedancethingeverysinglegame.”
“She’soneofmybestfriends,”Iansweredhonestly,stackingafewberriesonmyfork.“Wewereonlyayearapartinschool,sowegrewuptogetherwiththesamefriendsandthesameproblems.”
“Youeverdateanyofherfriends?”
“Definedate.”
Mavensnorted.“Pig.Okay,didsheeverdateanyofyours?”
“Never.”
“Never?”
Ishookmyhead.“Myfriendsdidn’twanttodie,sotheystayedawayfrommylittlesister.”
“Oh,that’srich.Youcanmessaroundwithherfriends,butyoursareforbidden,huh?”
“Graceistoogoodforanyofmyfriends.”
Mavensmiledabitatthat.
“Itakeityou’retheoldestofyoursiblings,”Iobserved.“You’vegotthefirst-bornattitude,too.”
“Only-born,”sheamended,andherfacesoftenedabit.“Iwasamiraclebaby.”
Ifrowned,swallowinganotherbitebeforeIasked,“Howso?”
“Myparentsweren’tsuretheywantedtohavekidswhentheyfirstgotmarried.TheywereinAmeriCorpstogether,whichmeanttheydidn’treallyhaverootssetinplace.Theyweresofocusedonhelpingotherpeople,theydidn’treallythinkaboutthemselves.Butoneday,Momdecidedshewantedababy,andDadhasalwaysdonewhateverMomwants.”Shesmiled,makingdesignswithherforkontheleftovercompoteonherplate.“That’swhentheyfoundoutMomhadcervicalcancer.”
Myheartbottomedoutinmychest.Iwasn’texpectingsuchavulnerableadmission,notfromthewomanwhohadbeenhardassteelaroundme.
“Theycaughtitearly,thankfully,butthedoctorsstillweren’tsureshe’deverhavekids.”Mavenlookedatmethen.“Shehadtwomiscarriagesbeforeshehadme,andnottoolongafterIwasborn,thecancercameback,andshehadtohaveheruterusremoved.”
Ibalked.Ididn’thaveasinglewordtosaytothat.
“So,it’sjustme,”shesaid,smilingonalittlebounceofhershoulders.“Theirmiraclebaby.”
“Youthreeareclose.”Isaiditasastatement,notasaquestion.“Youpostalotofphotoswiththem.”
“Ido.Creeper.”
Ismirked.“Hey,youleftanimpressiononmeatthegala.Notmyfaultyourbestiedroppedyourfullname,andIcouldn’tresisttheurgetolookyouup.”
“Damnit,Livia…”
“Itsurprisedme,”Iadmitted.“WhatIfoundwhenIdid.”
Sheproppedherchinonherpalmagain.“Why?Whatdidyouexpect?”
“Notabarefoothippyworkinginhergarden.”
Mavensighed.“I’mnotsureIclassifyasatruehippy,”shesaid.“NotwithhowconflictedIam.Partofmefeelslikethrowingcautiontothewindandlivingmylifeinatent.Theotherhalfofmewantsacareerandmoneyandanice,cleanplacetolaymyheadatnight.”
“Whydoesithavetobeoneortheother?”
“Itdoesn’t,Iguess.”Sheconsidered.“It’sjustodd.Ifeelliketheloudestinnerpartsofmeareatwar.Ienjoymyjob,especiallythethoughtofusingitforgood.ButthenIthinkaboutwhatmyjobis,socialmedia,andIjust…laughatmyself.Becauseit’sridiculous.”
“It’snot,”Itoldher.“It’sessentiallyyoubeingamodern-dayjournalist.Andtrustme,thefactthatyouwanttouseallthosefollowersyouhaveforanykindofgoodsetsyouapartfromthenorm.”
Sheofferedmeasoftsmile,andthenanotherlongingbreathleftherchest.“Imissmyplantbabies,andmybed.Imissmylife,honestly.”
“I’msureit’shard,walkingawayfromyourroutineforallofthis.”Iwavedmyhandintheair.
“Imean,I’mnotsureIhaveasmuchofaroutineasyoudo,”sheteased.“But,yes.It’s…different.”
“Inabadway?”
“Just…different.I’mnotusedtosuchalavishlifestyle.”Shegesturedtomycondo.“Thisplacecostsmoremoneythanmeormyfamilyhaveeverseeninourlives.IflewonaprivateplanetoandfromBostonintwenty-fourhours’time.Istayedinaplushhotelsuitewithabalconyoverlookingthecityandabathtubbigenoughtofitfivepeopleinit.”
“Itisalot,”Iadmitted.
“I’msureyou’reusedtoit.”
“I’vekindofgrownupinit,”Iadmitted,andforsomereason,Ifeltalittleashamed.“ButIguessyoualreadyknewthat,judgingbyyourcommentsthefirstnightwemet.”
Maven’seyesflickedbetweenmine,almostlikeshewassorry.Butthen,shesnuffedalaughoutofhernose.“Pleasedon’tactlikeyouwereoffended.Orlikeyoudon’tenjoythewomenwhofallalloveryouortheguyswhowouldlickyourskateifyouletthem.”
“I’vealwayswantedtobethebest,”Isaid,takingourplatestothesink.“Andnotallthewomenfallalloverme,”Iaddedpointedly,glancingatherasIrinsedthedishes.
Sherolledhereyes,poppingoutofherbarstooltostand.“So,VinceCool.Whatdoyoudowithadayoff?”
“I’llshowyou,”Isaid.“Butfirst…whatdoyouwanttodo?”
“Me?”
Inodded.“Yousaidyou’remissingyournormallife.WhatwouldMavenKingbedoingonaSundaymorningifshewasn’tbabysittingaprohockeyplayer?”
Atthat,shefoldedherarmswithherbrowslowlyarching.“Youreallywanttoknow?”
“Ido.”
Shewatchedmeforalongmomentbeforeshakingherhead.“Alright,”shesaid,grabbingherpurseofftheisland.“Let’sgo,TannyBoy.Wearsomethingcasualthatyoudon’tmindsweatingin.Oh,”sheaddedwithawrygrin.“Andbringyourcreditcard.”
“AmItakingyoushopping?”
“Somethinglikethat.”ForMyEyesOnly
Maven
“Ican’tbelieveyoudidallthisforus,Vince,”Mr.Pruittsaid,smilinghissignaturegap-toothedsmile.Mr.Pruittwasawhiteman,sixty-two,withlonggrayhairandmoreunbelievableroadtripstoriesthanacircustroupe“Youknowyoudidn’tneedto.”
“Yeah,we’rehappyjusttohangout.Wedidn’tthinkwe’dseeyoumuchoncetheseasonstarted,”Lonnieadded,clappingVinceontheback.WhereMr.Pruittwaspale,Lonniewasbronzedlikehelivedatthebeach.Andtobehonest,onsomeoccasions,hedid.Hewasalsoveryproudofhisfullheadofbrownhairandmatchinglongbeard.
AndwhileIusuallywouldbehuggingthemandaskinghowthey’dbeen,Iwascurrentlystandingthereontheedgeoftheconversation,completelyshocked
WhenVincehadaskedmewhatIwouldusuallybedoingonaSundaymorning,I’dthoughtI’dbethrowinghimforaloopwhenItoldhim.BecauseeverySundaymorning,Ieithermadeeggsandwichesmyself,orgrabbedsomefromMcDonald’s,alongwithsomeorangejuice,andcamedowntowntotheparkwhereahandfulofTampa’sdisplacedpopulationtendedtocongregate.
ItwassomethingIstarteddoingwhenIwasincollege,andthetraditioncontinuedonceImadesomanyfriends.Whileitkilledmetoseetheirsituationstaythesameforsolong,italsofilledmewithjoytospendtimewiththem,toheartheirstoriesandshowthemkindnessthatIknewtheyweren’tshowedoften.WhenIhadalittleextratogive,theywereusuallythefirstpeopleIgaveitto.SometimesItookthemtogettheirhaircut.SometimesIputthemupinahotelwhenacoldfrontsweptthrough,whichwasn’tofteninTampa,thankgoodness.Andsometimes,mosttimes,Ijustcameouttochatwiththem,toremindthemthatregardlessofhowsomemighttreatthem,theywerestillworthyofloveandrespect.
Thismorning,withVince’screditcardinhand,I’ddecidedtospoilthemnotonlywithahotbreakfastfromMcDonald’s,butwithPublixsubstosaveforlater,andbrand-newpackagesofsocksandunderwear,too.Andtheentiretime,Vincehadbeenquiet,wearingasmuglittlesmilethatIthoughtmeanthewasjustamusedandconfusedaboutwhatwashappening.
Butwhenwepulleduptotheparkandwalkedover,allofitsresidentsgreetedVincebeforetheydidme.
AndI’dbeenstandingthereconfusedeversince,watchingastheyinteractedthewayfamilywould.
“Well,tobefair,youprobablywon’tseequiteasmuchofme,”Vinceadmitted,scrubbingahandoverthebackofhisneck.“Butthisonedraggedmeoutthismorning.AndI’mgladshedid.”
“Ah,MavenisanangelonEarth,”Nonnasaid.Ididn’tknowifthatwasherrealnameorjustwhatshehadeveryonecallher,butshewasoneoftheonlywomenwhostayedattheparkwithalltheserascals.Shehadoliveskin,andanaccentIcouldn’tquiteplace,alongwithasmilethatfeltlikeawarmhuganytimeshegearedittowardyou.Theguyshererespectedherlikeshewastheirgrandmothereventhoughshecouldn’tbemorethansixtyyearsold,somaybethatwaswhytheycalledherNonna.“Youpickedagoodgirltodate,son.”
“Oh,she’snotmygirl,”Vincesaid,hiseyestwinklingalittlebitwhentheymetmine.“Notyet,anyway.”
LonnieandMr.Pruittexchangedglancesonasnickeratthat,butIwasstilltooshockedtoevenrollmyeyes.Herewasthismanwholivedinamulti-million-dollarcondonotevenfiveblocksfromthispark,whoworedesignersuitsanddroveacarthatcostmorethanmyparents’home—andsomehow,everyonehereknewhim.
How?
IwatchedthemallchatterforabitasVincehandedouttheunderwearandsocksbeforediggingoutbreakfastfromthemultiplepaperbags.EveryonechoweddownandlaughedbeneaththelargeoaktreescoveredinSpanishmossthatshadedthepark.Ijoinedin,butstillcouldn’thidemywhatthefuckface,apparently,becauseafterawhile,Vincenudgedmyarm.
“What’swrong,Maven?Youlookalittleperplexedthere.”
Iglaredathim.“Areyougoingtotellmewhat’sgoingonorjustsitthereallcocksure?”
“Ilikethesoundofthatsecondoption,”hesaid,bitingintoaMcGriddleeventhoughwe’dalreadyeatenamassivewaffle.Hewassolean,IfoundithardtobelieveheateasmuchasI’dseenhimeatinthepastcoupleofdays.Thenagain,whenyouskatenonstopforhoursatatime,Iguessyouneedtopackitonsoyouhavetheenergytodoso.
“Howdoyouknoweveryonehere?”
“Oh,wemetVinceduringrookiecamp,”Lonnieansweredforme.“Hewaswalkingbacktohisplaceafterpracticeonedayandwecalledhimover,startedchatting.”
“Yep.ItoldhimhowIsetupoutsideofeveryhomegamewithmybamboorosesforsale,”Mr.Pruittsaid.
“AndItoldhimhowIplaymybucketdrums,”Lonnieadded.“Beforeyouknewit,Vincewasinvitingusuptohisplace.”
Myjawnearlyhitthegrass.“To…hisplace?”
“Oh,thatwassuchalovelyday,”Nonnasaidalldreamy-eyed.“Heletusalltakeshowers,madeusahotmeal,andevenletussleepintheairconditioningforawhile.Wemadeabigcampthereinhislivingroom.”
Iblinked,sureIwasn’thearingthisright.
WhenIlookedatVince,hewaschewing,silent,staringdownathissneakerswithhischeeksabitpink.
“Itriedtoconvincehimtogiveusakey,but…”Nonnasaidwistfully,arascallygrinonherface.
“Now,Nonna—ifIwouldhavedonethat,Iwouldhavewokenupwithyouinmybedbynow,”Vincesaid.
“Anditwouldhavebeenthebestmorningofyourlife,”shecombatted.
Hewinkedather,andshepinchedoffapieceofherhashbrownandtosseditathim.
“Sincethen,webeenfriends,haven’twe,Vince?”Mr.Pruittdeclaredwithagrin.“Hecomesbyandsayshellowhenhecan,andLonniebeatsthedrumsextraloudwhenwewinhereathome.”
“Ievenpaintedhisnumberontheside,”Lonniesaidproudly.“Forty-one,baby.”
Vincelookedatmethen,liftingabrow.
Heknewwithoutmesayingit.
He’dsurprisedmeyetagain.
“Excuseme?”
Weallturnedtolooktowardwherethesoftvoicehadcomefrom,findingawomanwithayoungboytuckedintoherside.Shesmiledshyly.
“I’msorrytointerrupt,butmysonisyourbiggestfan.He’dreallylovetotakeapicturewithyou,ifthatwouldbeokay.”
Vincewipedthecrumbsfromhishandsandstoodfromwherewe’dbeensittingonablanket.“Ofcourse.What’syourname,littleman?”
“I’mTheMachine.”
Vince’seyesshotup,andtheboy’smomletoutalittlelaugh.
“HisnameisMatty.”
“ButmyteammatescallmeTheMachinebecauseI’mthebestgoalie,andnooneeverscoresonme.”
VincebentdowntoMatty’slevel.“Ever?”
Mattyseemedalittleunsure,lookingathismom,butthenhesmiledandshookhishead.“Never.”
“ThinkyoucouldcomegivePerrysomelessons?”
Mattylaughedatthat,andsuddenlyhewasshy,hischeeksaflamingredashetuckedbehindhismomalittlebit.
VincetookthephotowithMattyalonebeforethemomhandedherphonetoLonniesoshecouldgetin,too.Itookavideofrombehindthem,scanningthewholeparktoshowtheclothesandfoodVincehadbroughtout.
ButIdidn’tpostit,notyet,mostlyforfearoffansswarmingthepark,butalsoalittlebecauseIdidn’twantto.
Itwasadangerousadmission,becauseitwasquiteliterallymyjob—toshowVince’slifetotheworld.Butinthismoment,myheartwasbeatingalittleodd,mymindswimmingwiththecontradictionofthemanbeforeme.Lastnighthewaspinningmewithanangryglare,hishandholdingmyjawlikehedidn’tknowifhewantedtokissmeorthrowmetotheground.
Andthismorning,hewasspendingpartofhisdayoffwithpeoplemostoftheworldturnedtheirbackon.
Therefore,theworldcouldwait.
Rightnow,inthismoment,VinceTanevwasformyeyesonly.FreeofExpectations
Maven
TheamountoftimesIyawnedthroughoutthedaywasimpressive,butevenastiredasIwas,itwasfascinatingfollowingVincearoundonadayoff.
Itsurprisedmethatwewentstraightfromtheparktothestadium,wherehechangedandheadedtotheteam’sprivategymonthetopfloor.Therewereonlyafewotherplayersinthere,andtheygoofedoffabitbeforeeachsettlingintotheirvariousworkouts.Theyweren’tliftingweights,though.Itseemedtobeallcardio,acoupleofthemjoggingonthetreadmillswhileVincespentalmostanhouronthebike.
Whenhewasdone,hespentalotoftimeinwhathetoldmewasrecovery.Oneofthetrainersdidanintensecuppingsessionwithhimbeforealongmassage,andhefinisheditalloffwithatwenty-minutesaunasession.Ihadfollowedhiminlongenoughtotakeaphotobeforequicklyexiting,becausebeinginaliteralhotboxwithshirtlessVincewasasure-firewaytotestmyprofessionalism.
Afterward,heateanothermealpreparedbytheteam’schefbeforeweheadedbacktohiscondo.Hishousekeeperhadcomewhileweweregone,andtheplacewasnowspotless.
Hespentalongtimemeditating,whichsurprisedme,andthenhejournaled,whichaboutputmeonthefloorwithshock.WhenIthoughtabouthavingonedayoff,IimaginedhimbingeingNetflix,orgoingoutwiththeguys.Andheadmittedthatsometimes,hedidjustthat.Butmostofthetime,hehadaroutinehestuckto,especiallyduringtheseason.
Whilehewasjournaling,IsteppedontohisbeautifulbalconytocallReyaandCamilla.Theywerelosingtheirmindsoverthecontent.Betweenthegameandallthefootagefromhisdayoff,ourfollowerswereferal.Andsoweremybosses.
“Allofthisisgold,”Reyatoldme.“Anddon’tworryaboutyourgarden,yourplants,oryourhouse.We’vehiredsomeonetotakecareofallofitforthemonth.”
Thatbroughtmeasmuchreliefasitdidanxiety,becausecaringformyhomeandmygardenwassomethingIwantedtodo—nothavesomeoneelsedoing.
Still,IwouldbelyingifIsaidIwasn’thavingfun,thatthisassignmentwasn’texciting.Idecidedtotakemydad’sadviceandliveinthepresent.WhatweretheoddsI’deverdoanythinglikethisagain?
Answer:slimtonone.
Withtheendofthatphonecall,Icommittedtothrowingmyselfcompletelyintotheexperienceandgettingthemostoutofit.AndwhenIquietlysteppedbackinside,Vinceglancedupatmefromwherehewasjournalingwithacrookedgrin.
Iignoredthewaymyheartskippedabeatwhenhedid.
Throughoutmostoftheday,hewassilent,andIjusttookphotosandvideosandobservedfromtheoutside.I’dtoldhimtopretendlikeIwasn’tthere,andafterthepark,he’dbeenincrediblyproficientinadheringtomyrequest.Ialmostmissedit—hisplayboyattitude,cockylines,andquickbanter.Buttherewassomethingmagicalaboutwatchinghimfromtheoutside,beingalittleflyonthewallduringaprofessionalhockeyplayer’sdayoff.
Iwasn’tsurewhatI’dexpected,exactly,butitlikelyinvolvedwomenanddrugsandspendingmoneylikeitwouldneverrunout.Idefinitelyhadn’texpectedhimtobesofocusedontheseason,toworkonhisbodyandhismind,tosticktoaroutinethatwouldhelphimrecoverfromthegamesthispastweekwhilealsogearingupfortheonestocome.
Therewasareasonhewasoneofthebestrookiesintheleague.Maybeluckandtalenthadsomethingtodowithit,butthis?Hisdedicationtowhathedid?Thatplayedapart,too.
IthoughtI’dbeignoreduntilIexcusedmyselffromhisapartment,butwhentheafternoonbledintoevening,andthesunbegantosinkoverthecityskyline,VincegrabbedtwolocalIPAsoutofhisfridge.HecrackedthetopononeofthembeforearchingabrowatmetoaskifIwantedthesecondone.
Andusually,Iwasnotabeergirl.
ButIthoughtwhatthehell—partoftheexperience,right?andnodded.
“IsitNetflixtime?”IaskedhimasItookthefirstsip.
HesmiledthewaytheCheshirecatwould,roundingthekitchenislandandwalkingpastmeandacrosstheroom.
“Notquite,”hesaid.
Andheplacedhisbeerontheendtablebyhispotterywheel.
“Wait,”Isaidexcitedly,hoppingoffmybarstoolandallbutskippingovertohim.“AmIgoingtogetbackstageaccesstothemakingofaVinceTanevceramicmasterpiece?”
“Ican’ttellifyou’rebeingsincereorsarcastic.”
“Abitofboth.”Igrabbedoneofthesparerollingstoolsintheareaandtookaseat,wheelinguptowherehewas.“Sowhatareyoudoing?Whatareyoumaking?Tellmeeverything.”
Icouldn’texplainit,butVincewasthemostrelaxedI’dseenhimalldaywhenhesteppedintothatlittlecornerofhishome.Itwaslikewatchingsomeonekicktheirshoesoffafteralong,hardday.
“Thisguyisgoingintothekilnbecauseit’sfinallydryenough,”hesaid,pickingupawide,shallowbowl.Itwassagegreenandlookedlikeoneyoumightuseforpastaorasalad.“AndI’mgoingtofuckaroundwithsomedesignsontheseguys,”hesaid,motioningtoasetoftinyglasses.
“Whatarethose,anyway?”
“IhadJapaneseteacupsinmindwhenImadethem,”hesaid.“Mainlyforsencha.Butwe’llseehowtheyturnout.”
“Theylookokaytome.”
“Now,”hesaid.“ButIcouldscrewthemupinthedesignprocessorinthekiln.EspeciallysinceweliveinFlorida.”Heshookhishead.“Themoistureherefuckseverythingup.”
IfeltlikealittlekidinSanta’sworkshop,anexcitedsmilespreadingonmylipsasIleanedforwardandtookitallin.
“Andthen,”hesaid,reachingforaplasticcontainerononeoftheshelvesbehindhiswheel.Hesetitonthetableandpoppedthelid,revealingmultiplesealedbagsofclayofalldifferentcolors.“I’llstartsomethingnew.”
“Whatdoyoudowithallofthem?”Iasked.“Whenyoufinish?”
Heshrugged.“Depends.Ikeepsome,givesomeawayasgifts,throwsomerightintothegarbagewheretheybelong.”
“Usesometomaketengrandforcharity.”
“Someone’sgottamaketherichassholesoftheworldfeelgoodaboutthemselves,”hesaidpointedly,andwesharedaknowingsmile.
IcontinuedpepperingVincewithquestionsashegotstarted,andhehadthepatienceofasaintashewalkedmethrougheverythinghewasdoing,stepbystep.IhadjustasmanyquestionsaboutthisasIdidabouthockey,exceptthiswasmoreexcitingtomebecauseitwassomethingIhadpersonalinterestin.
Ilovedtendingtomygardenwithmyhands,lovedcleaninguptheearthwithmyhands,too.Thethoughtofcreatingsomethingwiththem,oftakingsomethingfromtheearthtomakesomethingbeautifulanduseful…itwasenticing.
“Howdidyougetintothis,anyway?”Iaskedafterhehadplacedafewpiecesintothekiln.Hegrabbedabagofclaynext,addingpiecesofittoascaleuntilhehadtherightweightofwhathewantedtoworkwith.
“Idon’treallyknow,actually,”heconfessed,coveringhisworkspacewithalargepieceofplywood.Heploppedtheclayontoitbeforetakingaseat,readjustingthestoolandtableuntiltheywereattheperfectheight.Then,hedughishandsintotheclayandbegantokneadit.“Ikindofstumbleduponit.”
“Howdoesonestumbleuponpottery?”
“IwasafreshmanatMichigan,myfirstyearplayinghockeyatthatlevel.AndIknewitwouldbetougherthanwhenIwasinhighschool,butIdidn’trealizehowmuchofatolljustbeingacollegeathletewouldhaveonme.It’snotjusthockey,”hesaid,moldingtheclaywithlong,smoothpressesofhisfingertips.“Andit’snothigh-school-levelclasses.It’sgruelingpractices,high-pressuregames,andgettingadegree,acareer.Imean,ofcourseweallwanttogopro,andmostofusknowwe’llplayinthecircuitinsomeway,atleastforawhile.”Heshrugged.“Butwhatifyougetacareer-endinginjury?Whatifyouonlyplayafewyearsandthengetletgoaltogether?Wecan’tallplayproforever.Therearetoomanyplayerswiththesamedreams.”
“Ineverthoughtofthat,”Iadmittedsoftly,mullingonallhe’dsaid.I’dalwaysassumedcollegeathleteshadafreepass,thattheyweretheluckyoneswhodidn’thavetotryashardastherestofus.
Ifeltalittleguiltatthatassumptionnow.
“Anyway,Iwasstressed,toputitlightly,”hecontinued,andImarveledathowhishandsspreadandshapedtheclay,howgracefullyhisfingertipsandpalmsworkedinsynctowedgeit.
I’dneverstaredsomuchatsomeone’shands,andIfoundmyselfappreciatingthemakeupofhis,thelargeknucklesandsmooth,bronzeskinthatstretchedoverthem.
“WhenIwasn’tinclassorstudying,Iwasattherink,eitherpracticingorplayingingames.Wepartied,ofcourse,butthatwasstressfulsometimes,too,becauseonenightofpartyingtoohardcouldmeanashitgameperformancethenextday.
Ineededsomethingforme,”hesaidafterapause.“Somethingthatwasn’tgoal-oriented,thatdidn’thaveanypressuretiedtoit.OnenightwhenIcouldn’tsleep,Iwasscrollingonmyphone,andthistime-lapsevideoofavasebeingmadecameup.Imusthavewatcheditadozentimes.”Hesmiledasifhewerebackinthememory.“Andthen,Isignedupforaclass.”
“Andyouloveditsomuch,youmadeyourselfahomestudio?”
“NotuntilIgotmysigningbonus,”hesaid.“Thisshit’sexpensive.But,yeah.IknewI’dneeditnow,intheNHL,evenmorethanIdidincollege.”
Heseemedtobesatisfiedwithwhateverhe’ddonetotheclaytoprepit,andheballeditupinhishandsbeforerollingovertohiswheel.
“WhenI’minhere,inthisspace,”hesaid,lookingaroundattheshelvesofclay,atthefinishedandhalf-finishedandcompletelyunfinishedprojects.“I’m…free.Freeofexpectations,freeofthepressureIputonmyselfineveryotheraspectofmylife.IfIfuckup,”hesaid,wettingthewheelabitbeforefiringittolife.Theclayspuncenteredandbeautifulforjustamomentbeforehepushedtoohardonitanditwarped,nearlyflyingoffbeforehecutthepoweronthewheel.Then,hequicklyreshapedtheclayandputitbackinplaceagain,asifit’dneverhappened.“Ijuststartover.”
Mychesttightenedasasmilefoundmylips.“That’skindofbeautiful.”
“That’snotwhatyousaidthefirstnightwemet,”heteased.
“Yeah,well,IthoughtIhadyoupegged.”
Hearchedabrow.“Isthisyouadmittingthatyouwerewrong?”
“Ididn’tsaythat,”Isaidquickly.AflashofJamesstruckmesohardIheldmynextbreathforamoment.
HehadbeenjustascharmingasVince,justassurprising.He’dmademelaugh,mademehotwithdesire,mademefeelsafe.
Andthenhe’dbrokenmyfuckingheart.
“But…”Iadded,almostregretfulinmyadmission.“You’redefinitelytestingmybeliefs.”
“Howso?”
Hesettledinatthewheelthen,andIlostmyselfwatchinghimmoldthewetclaywithhisfingertips.
“Idatedaguylikeyouonce.”
Thatmadehimpause,andtheclaywarpedbeforehecursedandstartedoveragain.
“Rich,Imean,”Iclarified.“Anathlete.Someonecocksureandpopularwiththewholeworldinhishands.Andlet’sjustsayheandhisentirefamilyshowedmethatIdon’tbelongintheirworld.”
Vincewasquietforamoment,focusingontheclay.IthoughtIsawthemuscleinhisjawtense.“Whatdidhedo?”
Isighed.“Well,wewereinlove.Like…stupidinlove.Andhemademefeellikeitdidn’tmatterthatmyfamilywaspoorandalwayshadbeen,orthathishadmoremoneythanGod.HelitupwhenIsharedstoriesaboutmypastwithhim.HelovedintroducingmetothingsI’dneverexperienced,likefinediningorspendingadayonaboatbiggerthaneveryhouseI’veeverlivedinputtogether.Andwhenhemetmyparents?Hecharmedthem.Hehadthatpower,theabilitytomakeanyandeveryonefallinlovewithhim.”
Foralongpause,IjustwatchedVinceshapetheclay,watchedhimworktogettheperfectthicknessonallsides.
“Hegavemeapromisering.”Myvoicecrackedabitwiththat.“Itwas…stupidlyexpensiveforapromisering.Andgorgeous.Anditmeantsomethingtome.IwaslivinginsidethefairytalewhereCinderellagetstheprince.”Ichuffedoutalaugh.“UntilIwenttohisbrother’swedding.
Iwas…completelyoutofplace,”Isaid,thememorymakingmyskinburnwithamixtureofembarrassmentandrage.“WearingadressI’dfoundontherackatGoodwillwhileeveryoneelsehadonballgownsandtuxes.Fromthatseason,ofcourse,becausewearinganythingfromalinereleasedtheyearbeforewouldhavebeenatrocious.Ihadn’tgraduatedfromcollegeyet,didn’thaveajobwhereIcouldaffordeventhemodestclothesIhavenow.Iwaslivingonloansandscholarships.
Jamesassuredmeitwasfine,buthebrokeupwithmenotevenaweeklater.Andhisparentsthencalledmetoexplainwhy,”Isaid,laughingagain.“AsifIcouldn’talreadypieceittogether.”Istraightenedmyback,mimickinghismother’svoicethatwassoprimandproper.“You’reasweetgirl,Maven,butthisjustisn’ttheworldforyou.YouhavetounderstandthatJameshasaverypromisinglifeaheadofhim.Heneedssomeonewhounderstandsthat,andwhattheirroleinhislifewillentail.”
Vincewasquiet,buthisnostrilsflared,hishandsworkingalittletooaggressively.Theclayfoldedinonitselfandhehadtostartoveragain.
“AndIknowit’snotfair,”IsaidbeforeVincecouldspeak.“ButIlistenedtohisstoriesabouthisfamily,andIwatchedthemwiththeirfriends.Iheardeveryoneatthatweddingtalkabouthowcharitabletheywere,howmuchtheygavetothisorganizationorthatone.Meanwhile,theyhadnoideawhatitwasliketobesomeonelikemyparents,tosacrificetimeandmoneyandtrulygivetoothers.”Ishookmyhead.“It’shardnottohaveasourtasteinmymouthwhenIwassoclosetobothsides.AddinthefactthatJameswasabletosoeasilylietome,tobewithmeforyearsandgivemeafuckingringandthenjust…changehismind,allbecause…”
Icouldn’tfinishthatsentence,butthewordsIdidn’tsayhunginthespacebetweenus.
BecauseIwaspoor.BecauseIwasn’tgoodenough.BecauseIdidn’tfitin
Vincefinallylookedatme,hiseyesflickingbetweenminelikehewantedtosaysomethingashishandspausedoverthewheel.
“What?”Iasked.
Heopenedhismouth,thenshutitagain.Then,swallowedandasked,“What’shislastname?”
“Why?”
“JustthinkIshouldknowhislastnamebeforeIwipehimfromthefaceoftheplanet.”
Iblinkedathim,andthenIlaughed,tiltingmyheadbackandlettingitbarkoutofmychest.“Shutup.”
Vincesmirkedinvictory,likehisonlygoalwastolightenmymoodandmakemelaughaboutasituationthathadsopermanentlymarkedme.
Hewentbacktomoldingtheclay,andwithhiseyesonhishands,hesaid,“Alljokesaside,he’sanidiot.AndI’msorryhisfamilymadeyoufeelthatway.”
“It’sfine.”
“Youshouldmeetmine,”headded,andIwasthankfulhewasn’tlookingatmewhenmyeyesbulgedoutofmyskull.“Ithinkwecouldchangeyourmind.”
Iofferedapatheticsmile,butdidn’trespond.Ididn’twanttotellhimIwasprettysurethatwasimpossible.PartofmyjobwasresearchingwhoVinceTanevwas,andIknewhecamefromafamilymaybeevenmoreaffluentthantheonethathaddismissedme.HisparentshadamansioninEastGrandRapids,acabinintheRockies,abeachhousehereinTampa,andayachtonLakeMichiganthattheywereknownforhostingprivatepartieson.Theybothcamefromwealthyparentswhohadwealthyparents,too.
Maybetheyweren’texactlyliketheLongIslandandHamptonscrewJameswasapartof,buttheywereoneinthesame.
“Whataboutyou,”Iasked,eagertochangethesubject.“Youeverhaveanyonebreakyourheart?”
Heblewoutabreath.“Oh,boy.DidIjustwalkintoaninterrogation?”
“Youdon’thavetoanswer,ifyoudon’twantto.”
Vincesmirked,shakinghisheadabitasheworkedtheclay.“Iguessyoucan’treallyhaveyourheartbrokenifyou’veneverdatedanyoneseriously.”
Isnortedinternally.
Iwasnottheleastbitsurprised.
“It’snotbecauseIdon’twantto,”hesaid,glancingatmelikeheknewtheassumptionsIwasmakingabouthim.“Ijusthaven’tfoundtherightpersonyet.”
“Interesting,becausefromthemanyphotosI’veseenpostedofyouonline,youseemtofindmultiplerightonesprettyfrequently.”
“Towarmmybed,”heclipped,hiseyesfindingmine.Ishrankabitunderhisgaze.“That’sdifferent.”
“Meaningyoucouldn’ttakethosewomenhometoMom?”
Hiseyebrowsjumpedupabit,asiftosay,“Yourwords,notmine…butyes.”
Iheldinmyunsurprisedlaugh.ThatalonetoldmehismomwasjustliketheonewhohadtoldmeIdidn’tbelongwithherson,thatIdidn’tmeasureup.Momslikethat,whohadmoneyandanathleticsonwithprospects,hadhighexpectationsforwhotheirdaughter-in-lawwouldbe.
Glancingdownatmyunpolishednails,IswallowedpasttheknotinmythroatwhenIsaid,“It’sgoodtohavestandards.”
“Iguess,”hesaid.“Ijustwantsomeonewhochallengesme,whofiresmeupandmakesmewantmore.Someonewhomakesmylifebetter.”Heswallowedthen.“NotsomeonewhojustwantsmebecauseofwhatIdo,ofwhoIam,ofwhattheythinktheycangetfromme.”
Thatresponsesurprisedmealittle.Itseemedthethemeoftheday.“I’msorryyouhavetodealwithpeoplelikethat.”
Thecornerofhismouthcrookedup.“Careful.Yousaidthatalmostlikeyoucareaboutme.”
Webothfellsilentafterthat.
Myheadwasspinningfromtheone-eightyfromthedaybefore.I’dgonefromhavinghimseethinginmyfacewithmychinclutchedinhishandtobeingfrontrowandcentertothesoftestpartsofhim.
Ididn’tknowwhattothinkanymore
AndIdamnsuredidn’thaveaboxtoputhimin.
ButonethingIdidhavewastheclimbingnumbersonoursocialmediachannelstoremindmethatthiswasallajob.Therewasonlyonereasonwhyamanlikehimandawomanlikemewereinthesameplace—becauseitwasanassignment.Forbothofus.
IcouldthinkaboutmysubjectallIwanted,andI’devengivemyselfthepleasureofappreciatinghowunfairlygoodlookingthemanwas.Butthatwaswhereitended.
Therewasn’tatimethatexistedwherethetwoofusmixedpastthisonewe’dfoundourselvesinbyhappenstance
Thenightcrawledon,andVinceputonthatmusicI’dheardthefirstmorningI’dwalkedintohiscondo.ItwasacrossbetweenFrenchandArabic,anditsetavibeunlikeanyother,especiallypairedwiththeviewsofhimcreating.
Ihadexpectedittobebeautiful,watchingVincemoldthatclayintoavase.
Ihadnotexpectedittobeerotic.
Buttherewasnobetterwordforit.Watchingthisbeastofanathleteworkwithsomethingsofragileanddelicatewithhismassive,callousedhandswassexyashell.Theclaycoveredhisfingersandknucklesandpalms,andhemovedeachmuscleinhishandwithperfectprecisiontoturnalumpofterra-cottaclayintosomethingsensational.
Ipulledoutmycamera,takingalongvideoofhimwhenhewashalfwaythrough.Istartedzoomingout,catchingasmirkingVinceasheglancedatmeandshookhisheadbeforefocusingonhisworkagain.Then,Icarefullywalkedcloser,zoominginthecameratofocusonhishands.
Ononlyhishands.
Andtoaddalittlecinematictouch,Islowedpartsofitdowninpost,editingthevideosothatfortensecondsofit,theviewersawVinceTanev’shandsandfingertipsdancingaroundthatwetclayandshapingitinsuperslowmotion.
WatchingitplaybackbeforeIposteditmademythroatdry,likeitwasalmosttoohottopost,likeIwasabouttopushasextapeintotheworldinsteadofaninnocentvideoofamanmoldingpottery.
Iwroteoutalongcaption,onethatdetailedalittlebitofthestoryVincehadtoldmeabouthowpotterycameintohislife,andIhighlightedonequoteinbold.
Thisistheonethinginmylifethatisn’tgoal-oriented,theoneplacewhereIcanbefree
BythetimeIwokeupthenextmorning,thevideohadgoneviral.
Withovereight-millionviews.What’sWiththeFish?
Vince
Thelongdragofthebuzzersoundingwasmusictomyears.
ThehomecrowdinTampawentwild,blueandwhitetowelsbeingwavedoverheadinabattlecryasIwastackledfromallanglesbymyteammates.Wecelebratedthegoal,oneCarterhadassistedmein,withacheekydancetotheroarofthestadium.Itwasamixtureofapplauseandlaughter,andeventherefereessmiledwhileshakingtheirheadsandgivingusthelookthatsaidwe’dbetterwrapitupandgetreadyforthenextplaytostart.
Wewereupthreetozerowithlessthaneightminuteslefttoplay.
OneofthewingersfortheopposingteamknockedmehardintheshoulderasIpassedhim,andIturnedwiththehit,smilingasIskatedupnexttohim.
“Oh,areyouthetoughguy?”Ichirped.ThenIpointedmystickathimandcalledouttoJaxson.“Watchout,thisone’sthetoughguy.”
“Fuckoff,Pigeon,”hespat.
“Thispigeonisshittingalloveryourgoalie,”Iremindedhim.“Likehe’sabenchseatinCentralPark.”
Heshovedmehard,whichjustmademelaughasIskatedbackwardtowardthebench.Itookoffmygloveandwiggledmyfingersathiminawavethatmadehimgrithisteeth.
“Alright,Tanev.That’senough,”CoachwarnedwhenIwascloseenoughtohearhim.ButIsawhisgrin.“Savethefightsforwhenweneedthem.”
Ijumpedtheboardsandtookaseatonthebench,graciouslyacceptingwaterfromoneofourtrainersasItriedtocatchmybreath.Thepuckwasdropped,andmyfocuszeroedinonmyteammates.
ButIfeltMavenwhereshestoodinthetunnellikeacurrentofelectricitybuzzingthroughmyveins.
Thelastweekwithherhadtiltedmyworldonitsaxis.Andwhereshe’dbeenlikeathorninmysidethatfirstgameinBoston,she’dbeenmorelikeasoothingbalmtoday,quietlyobservingmewhileIgotreadytoplay.
We’dspentmyentiredayofftogetheronSunday,andthenshe’dfollowedmeallyesterday,too,duringpracticeandfilmandeverythingin-between.Thefrostshe’dicedmeoutwithinthebeginningwasthawingnow,andshetalkedtome,laughedwithme,andletmepeelbackalittlelayertoseemoreofwhothegirlwasbeneathit.
Shewasawalkingcontradiction,MavenKing—simultaneouslyafascinating,generous,free-spiritedhippy,andalsoaclosed-off,teeth-baredinwarningbrat.ItwassofarfromwhatIwasusedtowhenitcametowomen,Icouldn’thelpbutbeenamoredbyit,byher.
AndwhetherIchoseitornot,shewasnowapartofmyroutine.
ThecornerofmymouthtwitchedupwhenIrecalledherstandinginmydoorwaywhenitwastimetoheadtothestadiumearlier.She’dleanedahipagainsttheframe,thewhitepencilskirtsheworehuggingherslightcurves,andthemidnightbluetopsheworewithitcinchingherslimwaist.Herhairframedherfaceinacurlyhalo,andherglossylipshadspreadintoasmileasshewatchedmegrabmybagandheadforthedoor.
Shedidn’tmoveonceIreachedit.
“I’mafraidIcan’tletyoupass,”she’dsaid,tiltingherheadabit.“Notuntilwefight.”
Itwasatease,areferencetothegamebefore,andI’dfoldedmyarmsovermychestandsizedherup.“Whatdoyouwanttofightabout?”
“Dealer’schoice.”
“Hm…”I’dsaid,tappingmychininthought.“Ineedtofigureoutawaytopissyouoff.”
“Shouldn’tbetoohardforyou.”
I’dsmirkedatthat,andthen,I’ddroppedmybagtotheflooranddugmyfingertipsintohersides,ticklinghermercilessly.
Ismiledwiderrememberingthesquealingpealsoflaughterthatshe’dletloose,howshehadtearscomingoutofhereyesasshetriedtobreakfreefromme.Inherattempt,herbodyhadbeencompletelypressedintomine,andI’dfelttheweightofherslightframeinmyarms,hadinhaledherscent—lemonandvanilla,likearefreshingdessertIwasmorethancurioustotaste.
ShewasbreathlessbythetimeI’dfinallyrelented,andassoonasshehadherbreathback,she’dsockedmerightinthegut.
I’ddoubledoverwithanoof,buthadlaughedallthesame.
“You’resuchaprick,”she’dyelled.“Icouldn’tbreathe!”
“Isittimetokissandmakeupnow?”
She’dsuckedherteethatthat,turningonherheelsthatmatchedherblousebeforestruttingdownthehalllikeamodel.
AndI’dspentthelastfewhourstryingtostayfocusedonthegame,andnotonhowithadfelttohavemyhandsonher.
Iblinkedbacktothepresentjustintimetohoptheboardsandskateoutontotheicewithmyline.Weplayedhard,notlettingupevenwhenthescoretolduswecould.Wewantedthisteamandtherestinourconferencetohearourmessageloudandclear.
Tampaistheteamtobeat,andwewon’tmakeiteasytodoso.
Sweatdrippedintomyeyesasthelastbuzzersounded,andthecrowdcheeredsoloudthestadiumshookwiththesoundofit.Then,aflurryofstuffedanimalfishesofallkindsraineddownonus.
Wehadtowatchwherewewereskatingtododgethetoysaswetookourvictorylaps,butnoneofusminded.Itwastradition,onethathadbeenaroundfordecades.ThefishwereasacrificetotheOsprey,ourmascot.Whenthetraditionstarted,theyhadthrownactualfish.Ofcourse,thathadbeenasmelly,disgusting,andratherinhumanepracticethatquicklyturnedintowhatitwasnow.Arainbowofcolorfilledtheicejustlikeahattrickdid,andattheendofitall,everytoywouldbedonatedtolocalsheltersandfamiliesinneed.
Wetookourtimeonourvictorylap,andnotasinglefanmovedfromtheirseatsaswewentbackintothelockerroom.Minuteslater,thethreestarsoftheteamwereannounced.
Iwasoneofthem.
Iskatedalapwiththelightsflashingandthecrowdchantingmyname,andIsearchedforakidtogivemypuckto.WhenIspottedafamiliarfacebytheglassatcenterice,Igrinned.
TheMachine.
Iskatedovertohim,andhejumpedupanddownmoreexcitedlywhenherealizedI’dspottedhim.Hetuggedonhismom’sjersey,andsheonlylaughedandthankedmewithasweetsmileandtiltofherhead.
InsteadoftossingthepuckupovertheglasslikeIusuallydid,Inoddedtowardsecurityandmotionedforthemtofindawaytogethimontheice.Whentheydid,Ipulledhimupontomyshoulders,handinghimthepuckandlettinghimcelebratelikethevictorywashisasweskatedanotherlapwiththeotherstars.
Whenthecelebrationsweredone,Ibenttolethimdownandrejoinhisfamily,andIturnedtofindMavenwatchingmefromthebench.Icockedabrow,silentlyaskingwhatshethought.
Shesmiled,somethinglightandsoftaboutherforjustamoment.Butthen,shescrunchedherfaceupandwavedherflatpalmsidetoside,asiftosay,Meh,itwasalright
Iscrubbedahandovermysmileatthat.
Backinthelockerroom,thecelebrationscontinued,myteammatesstrippingtheirclothesoffandchuggingbeerastheDJplayedourwinsongloudlythroughthespeakers.
“Greatjoboutthere,”CoachMcCabesaidwhenwewereallgathered.“Itwasaroughfirstperiod,butyoufoundyourgrooveinthesecond,andifwekeepplayinglikethat,we’llhavethetrophyinourhandsbytheendoftheseason.”
Weroaredouragreement.
“Havefuntonight,butbesmart,”hewarned.Hisexpressionwassevereforonlyamomentbeforehegrinned,andweallcheeredandwhistledasheshookhisheadandleftusbe.
Heknewaswellaswedidthattonightwasgoingtobelitasfuck.
“Let’sfuckingparty!”JaxsonbeltedoutonceCoachhadduckedoutoftheroom,andtheteamrespondedbybeatingonthelockersanddancingasifwe’dalreadywonthechampionship.
Ijoinedin,grabbingmyjerseyatoppositeendsandthreadingitbetweenmylegsasIthrustmyhipsinaridiculousdance.Iwhippeditoverheadlikeahelicopternextbeforesendingitflyingintotheteamlaundrybasket.
ItsoaredrightbyMaven’sheadontheway,andshecaughtthewholethingoncamera.
IhoppeddownfromwhereI’dbeenonabench,slowlymakingmywaytowardher.WhereIwasasweaty,smellymess,shewasjustaspristineasshehadbeenstandinginmydoorwayhoursago.InotedthefrecklesonhercheeksthecloserIgot,lovingthatIcouldseethemeventhroughhermakeup.
“Well,didIgiveyouenoughcontenttonight?”
“Indeed,youdid,”sheansweredonasmile.“Ijusthaveonequestion.”
“Shoot.”
“What’swiththefish?”
“SacrificingtotheOsprey!”Carteransweredforme,slinginghisarmaroundMaven.Shegrimacedabitathowsweatyhewas,butdidn’tpullaway.“It’straditionafterawin.”
“Youknowwhatelseistradition,”Jaxsonsaid,wagglinghisbrowsashesidledupnexttome.“Boomer’s.”
“AndBoomerBunnies,”Carteraddedwithhisownsalaciousgrin.
“Shutup,Fabio.Weallknowbunniesdon’tcomeforyourrookieass,”oneofourdefensemenchided.DimitriVolkov.HewasRussian,anoldervet,hisaccentthickandhistoleranceforbullshitsomewherearoundDaddyP’s.Ilovedhim,though,becausehewasessentiallylikehavingasecondgoalie.Themanwasaweapon,oneIwasgladtohaveonmyteam.
Carterflickedhimoff.
“BoomerBunnies?”Mavenaskedcarefully.
“Boomer’sisthebarwegotoafterawin,”Brittzyexplained.“Andlet’sjustsay,therearesomeveryattractivewomenintheareawhoarewellawareofthatfact.”
“They’realsoawareofhowfatyourpocketsare,”DaddyPgrumbledfromthebench.“You’reafoolifyoumistakeitforanythingelse.”
“Someofthemarenice,”Carterdefended.
“Justbecauseoneofthemletyoupokeherinthebuttdoesn’tmeanshe’sMissAmerica,Fabio.”
ThewordsshotoutofJaxsonlikeabarrel,andweallburstintoafitoflaughterasCartershamefullytookhisarmfromaroundMaven.HesulkedforamomentbeforepunchingJaxsoninthearm.
“Um…sheletyou…what?”Mavenasked.
Carter’sfaceflamedafuriousred.
“Carterherewasavirginthefirstnightweallwentout,”Jaxsonexplained,alltoohappytofillintheblanks.“Andacoupleteammatestooksomebunnieshome,afewofthemexcitedto…play.”Hegrinned.
“OneofthemtoldCarterhecouldputitanywhere,”Isaid.Maven’seyesdoubledinsizewhenhergazesnappedtomine,andIlovedit.Ilovedseeinghersquirm,watchingherreactiontothatlittletidbit.
Itmademewonderwhatshewasthinking,ifshewasdisgustedbythethought,ormaybe,justmaybe,alittleturnedon.
“Andyou…youchose…”MavenslowlyturnedtoCarteragain,whothrewhishandsuplikehe’dhadnootherchoice.
“IjustfiguredIwouldn’tgetthatofferasmuchinmylifetime!”
Mystomachhurtfromlaughingsohardwiththerestofthecrewinthatcornerofthelockerroom,andevenMavencrackedasmile,shakingherhead.
“Please,don’tpostthat,”Cartersaid,soberingup.
“Yourvirginescapadesaren’texactlythecontentwe’regoingfor,Fabio,”Mavenshotbackjustasquick.
“Hey,I’mnotavirginanymore.”
“Doesitcountifit’sjusttheass?”Mavenasked.
Thatmadeusalllaughharder.
Mavenfeltlikeoneofusalready.
“Alright,twatlickers,”oneofourveteranscalled.ShaneLomberg,aleft-wingerwhowasalsothefirstofustofightwhennecessary.“Showeryoursmellyasses,andlet’sgetthispartystarted.”
Mavenshookherhead,writingsomethinginherphonebeforeshetuckeditawayonasigh.“Alright,well,youguyshavefun.”
“Youguys?”Carterasked,frowning
“Ohhh,no.You’recoming,too,”Jaxsonsaid,pointingather.
“Me?”Shelaughedalittle,likeitwasajoke,beforehereyesscannedeachofus.Sheswallowedwhenshelookedatme,fidgetingwithherhairassheshookherheadagain.“No,no,thisisyournight.I’dcrampyourstyle.”
MychesttightenedatthatbecauseIknewshewantedittolandlightly,butIalsoknewsheactuallythoughtthat
Shedidn’tthinkshebelonged.
Myjawwasalittletighterthen,thinkingaboutherdouchebagex-boyfriendandhisfamily.He’dhurthersobadshehadapermanentbeliefaboutthepeoplesheperceivedas“rich”andhowtheywereashumanbeings.
Whichmeantshewaslookingaroundthislockerroomthinkingtherewasnochanceinhellshe’dfeelcomfortablegoingoutwithusforanight.
“Comeon,”Isaid,callingherattentionbacktome.Iwaiteduntilhereyesmetmine.“Twenty-four-sevenaccess,right?”
Ithrewouttheworklinebecauseitwasaneasyonetogetawaywith,oneIknewwouldmakeherreconsidersimplybecauseshecaredaboutdoingthejobright.
Itwasalsoaneasywaytocoverthetruth,whichwasthatIwantedhertocome.
AndIdidn’twanthergoinghomewithoutme.
“Yeah!”Carteragreed.“You’vegottacome.”
“I’llbuyyourdrinksallnight,”Jaxsonchimedin.
“Don’tlistentotheseguys,”Willsaid,standing.“Ifyouwanttogohome,gohome.Thismotleycrewwillhaveyououtuntildawnifyouletthem.”
“Leaveusalone,Grandpa,”Jaxsonsaid,wavinghimoff.HestoodbetweenDaddyPandMaventhentohammerhispointhome.“Don’tmakeusbeg,Maven.”
“Butwewill,”Isaid.“Ifyouwant.”
TheguysandIsharedalookbeforeIdroppedtomyknees,claspingmyhandstogetherwithbigpuppydogeyes.
“Oh,please,Maven!Pleasecomecelebratewithus!”
JaxsonandCarterdropped,too,andwechimeditoverandover,likekidsbeggingtheirmomforanicecreamcone.
Mavenlaughed,shakingherheadbeforesheheldupherhandsandsaid,“Alright,alright,alright.”Wequietedatthatlastone.“I’llcome.”
Hereyesfoundminewhenshesaidthoselasttwowords.
AndIcouldn’thelpbutlickmybottomlip,hopingforthechancetomakethatstatementtrue.IAmtheMayhem
Maven
ThecrowdwassothickoutsideofBoomer’s,Ihadapanicattackwhentheblackcardroppedusoff.
I’driddenwithVince,Jaxson,andCarter,andwhilealltheireyeslitupwithexcitementatthemultitudeofpeopleclamoringtopartywiththemaftertheirwin,I’dshriveledintothecornerofthecar.IwascursingLiviaundermybreathfornotagreeingtocomeoutwithus.Shehadclientsearlyinthemorning,soIunderstood,butIhatedthatIdidn’thaveherhere.
Itwasn’tthatIhadanissuewithcrowds.Hell,I’dbeeninoneofthousandsofpeopleatthestadiumwithoutissue.Butaseaofpeopleclamoringtogetaglimpseofwho’sinthiscar,aseaofpeoplewhowouldbestaringatmewhenIexitedthisthing?
Mybrowwassweatingjustthinkingofit.
Iwasusedtobeingbehindthecamera,andVincemusthavepickeduponthatfact,becausehefrownedwhenhelookedatmeoverhisshoulderandsawwhatwasnodoubtmyveryhesitantexpression.
“Hey,”hesaid.“Lookatme.”
Screamsrippedoutwhenourcarcametoastop,andsecurityfoughttokeeppeopleback,liketheguyswererockstarsinsteadofathletes.Isupposeditwasoneandthesameinthiscity.
Awarmpalmslidingovermykneecalledmyattentionawayfromthechaos,andIfoundVince,hiseyessetonmineashishandsqueezed.
Hismassive,talentedhand,onethatcouldscoregoalsandmoldartfromclay.Hesmoothedhisthumbovertheskinjustbelowthehemlineofmyskirt,andIswallowed,notdaringtolookdownatwherehetouchedme.
“You’rewithus,”heremindedme.“Andwe’vegotyou.Okay?WehaveaVIPareaintherethat’scompletelyropedoff.Youonlyhavetobeinthecrowdforafewminuteswhilewemakeourwayin.”
Inodded,alittleembarrassedbymyanxiety.“I’msorry,Ijust…”
“Yourphone.”
“What?”
“Pulloutyourphone.Pretendlikeyou’rerecording,oractuallyrecordit,wedon’tcare,”headded,andtheguysnoddedbehindhim.
“Theseaswillpartforyou,Maven.Everyoneknowsyou.”
ThosewordsfromCartermademeblink.
Everyoneknowsyou.
Ihadn’tconsideredthat,hadn’tthoughtaboutthefactthatmysocialmediaaccountswerethemostwatchedinthecityrightnow.Ididn’tknowifthatmademefeelbetterorworse.
Withafinalnod,Ipulledadeepinhalethroughmynosetoprepareme,andJaxsonopenedthedoorforustoclimbout.
Thecrowdcheeredwhenwedid,butitwasn’tthenonstop,high-pitchedscreamsyou’dhearforarockband.Itwasloudanddeep,aseaofgrownmenholleringtheirapprovalandrespectfortheteam.Ofcourse,thereweresomewomeninthere,too.Plentyofthem.Buttheydidn’tcrowduswhenwegotoutlikeIthoughttheywould.
Vincegrabbedmyhand,anyway.
Itriednottofocusonthat,onhowsmallmyhandwasinhisasheledusthroughthesmallopeningthey’dmadeforustomakeourwayintothebar.Itriednottoletitimpactmybreathing,howconfidentlyheheldme,howproudly.HepulledmethroughthatcrowdlikeIbelongedtohim.
Myfreehandheldmyphone,andIclickedthebuttononthesidetostartthevideoasIfollowedVincein.
“Maven!Weloveyou!”
Ifollowedthesourceofthechant,smilingalittlewhenagroupofthreecollege-agedgirlswavedexcitedlyatme.
“Toldyou,”Vincewhisperedinmyear,tuggingmecloseenoughtodoso.Ifelthisbreathwarmontheshellofmyear,andashiverspreadovermyskin.
“Areyoutwodating?!”
“What’sitlike,Maven?”
“Vince,let’sdopotterytogether!”
“Vince,let’sfuck,”someoneelsecheeredlouder,andthatmadeeveryonelaugh.
Exceptme.
Vincetookallofitlikeachamp,winkingatthegirlwho’dofferedherselfupbeforeweduckedinsidethebar.Itwasevenlouderonceinside,butthebouncersdidn’tstopusforanIDcheckoranythingelsebeforeusheringustothebackcorner,andupasmallsetofstairstotheVIParea.
IfeltlikeIcouldfinallybreatheoncewewerebehindtheropes,andVincedroppedmyhand,high-fivingoneofhisteammateswithitamomentlaterwhileItriedtogathermybearings.
Boomer’swasmoreofaclubthanabar,astheguyshadmadeitsound.Strobelightsandlasersflashedinthefoggydarkness,go-godancersshakingtheirassesonthebarwhilepatronsslippeddollarbillsintotheirgarters.ADJwasfrontandcenter,andhepointedbacktotheteam’sVIPareabeforespinningrightintotheirwinsong,whichmadethecrowdroarandjumpanddancewildlyastheteamcelebratedfromourlittlecorner.
Icouldn’tbelievetheywerestilllettingpeoplein.Theplacewasalreadypacked,andallIcouldthinkofwaswhatthehellwouldhappenshouldafirebreakout.
Warm,longfingertipswrappedaroundmyhip,nearlyencompassingthewholeofmeasVincepulledmeintohimfrombehind.
“Drink?”heaskedinmyear.
Myeyesflutteredshut,butIforcedthemopenagain,turningmoretobreakcontactthananythingelse.
“Please,”Isaidoverthemusic.
Vincenoddedtowardoneofthetablesinthebackofoursecludedarea,eachpiledhighwithbottles.HepourediceintoatumblerandtoppeditwithmostlyGreyGoose,andasmallsplashofpineapplejuicebeforehandingittome.
Idownedthewholething.
IwasstillgrimacingwhenVincetookmyglassandrefilleditonalaugh.“Youcanhangoutbackhereifyouwanttobeoutofthemayhem.”Henoddedtowardsomecushionedboothsintheback.Onewasempty.Theotherhadtwohockeyplayerswithagirlineachoftheirlaps.
“Whataboutyou?”Iasked.
Aslow,lazygrinspreadonhisbeautifulmouth.“Iamthemayhem.”
Ididn’thaveVincelongbeforehewasbeingpulledawaybyhisteammates,andItookhisoffer,curlingintothesmallestformofmyselfIcouldonaboothintheback.IwatchedfromafarastheteampartiedinawayIhadn’twitnessedsincecollege.Theytookshotaftershot,dancingandhorsingaroundastheyragedintothenight.Smokeswirledfromvapesandcigarsalike,mixingwiththelightstocreateaheavy,neonfog.
ButevenasItriedtomakemyselfinvisible,theguyswouldn’tletme.
Cartercamebacktograbmeatonepoint,pullingmetothefronttomeethisbrotherwhowasintownforthegame.I’dnosoonersatbackdownbeforeJaxsonwassittingbesideme.He’dbroughttwogirlsandacoupleotherteammateswithhim,andhemademepartoftheconversation,makingsureIfeltcomfortable.
AndIdid.
IfeltlikeIbelongedtherewiththem,likenoonewasjudgingmeforbeingthelowlyreporter,eventhoughtheyknewIwasinadifferentclassthantheywere.
Atonepoint,InoticedVincesayingsomethingtooneofhisteammates.Thenextmoment,thatteammatewaswalkingovertointroducehimselftome,tositandtalkandmakesureIwasn’tleftalone.
Iwonderedifhe’ddonethatallnight,ifhewasthereasonIhadn’thadasparemomenttofeeloutofplace.
ItmademychesthurtinawayIwasn’tfamiliarwith,tothinkhecaredaboutme,thathewantedtomakesureIhadagoodtime.
Butitalsoputallmydefensesup.
Ihatedthat.Ihatedthatevenwhensomeonewasdoingsomethingniceforme,Ihadthisdevilinthebackofmymindtellingmeitwasallafarce.Icouldn’ttrustVince,oranyonewhoIfeltwasbredfromadifferentcloth.
Jameshaddonethattome.
Iwonderedifthatdamagecouldeverbeundone.
ButthenIrememberedwhatmytherapisthadsaid—thattraumaresponsewasgoodforus.Itkeptussafe.Itkeptusfromrepeatingamistake,andthusthepainthatcamewithit.Itshowedusredflagswhenweusedtoignorethemormakeexcusesforthem.
IwasgladIhadmyguardup.Itwasasure-firewaynottogethurtagain.
Thenightwenton.
Everynowandthen,oneoftheguysfromtheteamwouldinvitewomenfromthecrowdbehindtheropes.Theydancedwithsomeofthem,pullingtheirbarelycoveredassesintotheirlapsastheyswayedtothebeat.Others,theytuggedintoacornertomakeoutwith,wastingnotime.
Itookphotosandvideosfrommycornerwhenthemomentfeltright,mostlywhenVincewasgoofingaroundandsmilingthatmegawattsmileofhis.Butasthenightdraggedon,Ifeltlessandlessinclinedtostay—especiallywhentheheavybassofthemusicseemedtothrumlikeaheartbeatbetweentheplayersandthegirlswhoweredesperatefortheirattention.
“Dancewithme.”
Iwasinadazewhentherequestcame,andIglancedup,findingVincesmilingadrunkensmiledownatme.Hishairfellintohisviewamomentbeforeheranahandbackthroughit,stylingthemessywaveswithjustthatmotion.Hispoutylipswerecurledslightlyatthecorners,hiseyesglazedanddangerouslyinviting.
Heheldoutahandformine.
“Oh…I’mokay,”Isaid.
Hecockedabrow.“You’vebeensittingthereallnight.Comeon,”hesaid,wigglinghisfingers.“Dancewithme.”
Therewasadareinhiseyes,andifIgaveintothewaymyheartracedatthewayhewatchedme,Iwouldhaveslidmyhandintohisandlethimleadmeontothefloor.
Butwherethiswasanightoutcelebratingforhim,itwasajobforme.
ThingsweregoingbetterthanI’deverimagined.ReyaandCamillawerereadytohandmeanythingIwantedifIcontinuedtopullthisoff.Andnothingmatteredmoretomethanremainingprofessional—whichdancingwiththedevildisguisedasVinceTanevwouldmakeverydifficulttodo.
“I’mreallyokay,”Isaidagain,offeringasmallsmile.
Vincelookedalittledisappointedashedroppedhishand,butitlastedonlyamomentbeforeheshrugged.Herefreshedhisdrinkandsuckedhalfofitdownwithhiseyesstillonme.
“Suityourself,”hesaid.
Hedisappearedbackintothecrowdjustaseasilyashe’dpoppedoutofit,andIwatchedhimgo,checkingthetimeonmywatchasIblewoutabreath.
Itwasalmostthreeinthemorning.
Ilookedaroundatthecrowd,whichdespitethehour,onlyseemedtobethickening.IslidmypurseontomyshoulderanddecidedIwouldmakemywaybacktothecondotogetsomemuch-neededsleep.
ButwhenIlookedforVincetotellhimIwasheadingout,Ifoundhimjustintimetowatchhimplucktwowomenfromthecrowddancingoutsidetheropes
Hepulledthemin,securityfasteningthebarrierbackinplaceassoonastheywereathisside.Oneofthegirlswastanandtallandlean,withplatinumblondehairandaperfectheart-shapedass.Theotherwastall,too,butwasacreamypale,shapedlikeanhourglass,withshortbrownhairandamouthlikeAngelinaJolie.
ThewomenencircledVinceoncetheywerebehindtheropes,sandwichinghimbetweenthem,andallthreeofthembegantomovetothebeatofthemusicthumpingthroughtheclub.Thewomendrapedtheirarmsoverhimlikehewastheirs—notevenahintofhesitation,orasinglethoughtthathewouldn’twantthemto.
Myheartstoppedinmychest,andthenkickedbackhard,racingfasterandfasterasIwatchedthem.
IwatchedtheblondetrailhernailupVince’sarm,overhisneck,untilshedraggeditalonghischinandguidedhismouthtowardhers.Shedidn’tkisshim,justheldhimthere,wherehehadnochoicebuttolookatherasshestaredbackathimandmovedherbodyagainsthim.
Herbodythathemovedhishandstohold,tofeelassherolledtothemusic.
Thebrunettedancedtotheothersideofhim,straddlinghislegwithherthighsasshetuggedatthecollarofhisshirtforhisattention.Whentheblondekeptit,thebrunettelickedhisneckbeforebitingdown.
Evenfromacrosstheroom,IsawVincehiss,sawasmilecurlonhislipsasheturnedtofaceher,andshegrinnedatthevictory.
Iwasrootedinplace.
Likeamasochist,Iwatcheditallunfoldwithmystomachbottomingout.
Afront-rowshowtoBoomerBunniesinaction.
Andwhenbothwomenstartedkissingonhisneck,Vincelookedupattheskyonacurse.
Then,helookeddirectlyatme.
Hiseyesweredarkandmischievous,lockedonmineasthegirlsbattledwitheachotherforwhocouldmakehimunravelthequickest.Buthewasn’tsmilinganymore,andhewasn’tgivingeitherofthemwhattheywanted.
Hewastoobusystaringatme.
Isuckedinastiffbreath,blinkingrepeatedlybeforeIfinallytoremygazeawayandadjustedmypurseonmyshoulder.Imutteredunheardexcuseme’sasIpushedthroughtheteamandtheluckygirlswho’dbeenselectedtojointhem.Ipushedfarther,outoftheropesandthroughthecrowduntilIburstoutintothehumidnightair.Itwassohardtobreathe,Igasped,tryingandfailingtofillmylungs.
Ididn’tseethecarwe’dcomein,didn’tevengivemyselftimetothinkofcallingone.IjuststartedwalkinginthedirectionoftheskyscraperholdingmeprisonforthemonthIwasdoingthisjob,squeezingmyeyesshuthardtotrytoclearwhatI’djustseenbeforeIopenedthemagainandputonefootinfrontoftheother.
Ihadn’tmadeittwentystepsbeforeIwasspuninacircle,Vinceslidinghishandintothecrookofmyelbowandpullingmetoastop.
“You’releaving?”
Iblinkedathim,eyescatchingwherehehadlipsticksmearedonhisneck.
Aharshlaughburstfrommychest.
“I’msurprisedyounoticed,”Isnapped,andthenIrippedawayfromhimandstartedoffinthedirectionI’dbeenwalkingbeforehestoppedme.
“Letmegetyouacar.”
“Icanwalk,it’snotfar.”
“You’reinheels.Andit’sthreeo’clockinthemorning.”
“I’mfine.”
Vincejoggedaroundtostandinfrontofme,blockingmypath.“What’sgoingon?Whyareyoumad?”
“I’mnot.”
“Soyoubreathelikeanangrydragonandstormaroundtownbecauseyou’rehavingagrandtime?”
Iscoffed,skirtingpasthim.“Gobackinside,Vince.I’msureyourfansaremissingyou.”
Hedidn’tfollowforthenextseveralsteps,butthenhejoggedtocatchuptome,blockingmypathoncemore.Inotedthathehadbeentextingsomethingonhisphone,butheslippeditintohispocketwhenhecaughtuptome.
Probablytellinghislittlegroupiestomeethimbackathisplace.
“Maven,”hesaid.“Talktome.Tellmewhat’swrong.”
Hiseyeswerelazyandglazed.Helookedsosleepyandsexyandconfident,andhewatchedmelikehealreadyknewtheanswer.
Iglowered.“Oh,Idon’tknow.IguessIjustwantedyoutosurprisemeagain,andfoundmyselfdreadfullydisappointed.”
Thatbeautiful,scarredbrowliftedintohishairline.“Howso?”
“You’rejustlikeeveryotherrich,professionalathletethattherulesdon’tapplyto,”Isaid,shakingmyhead.“Andit’sjustsounoriginal.”
Vincefrownedatthat,almostlaughinglikehewasconfused.“Therules?”
Butthenthelaughterfaded,andsomethinglikerecognitionwashedoverhim,smoothingouteveryfeatureofthatbeautiful,stupidface.
“You’rejealous.”
Myeyebrowsshotupintomyhairline,indignationswirlingwithsomethingakintobeingstrippednakedandputondisplayfortheworldtodissect.Iswallowedallofitdown,guardfirmlyinplace.
“Wow.”Ipushedpasthim,shakingmyhead,butheroundedmebeforeIcouldtaketwomoresteps.
“Youare,aren’tyou?”
“Getagrip,TannyBoy,”Ishotathim,liftingmychinandstandingevenhigheronmyheels.“Youcouldn’tmakemejealousifyoutried.”
“Isthatright?”
“Itis.”
“Huh,”hemused,andbeforeIcoulddecidewhattodonext,hegrabbedmebythehips,backingmeintothebrickwallofthebuildingI’dbeenstormingpast.
Ihititwithenoughforcetomakemegasp,andVincesmileddownatme,blockingmein,surroundingmelikeapredatorabouttodevourhisfirstmealindays.
“Soyoudon’twantmetotakeyouuptomycondorightnow?”heasked,hisvoicelowandseductiveinthespacebetweenus.
HepressedintomeharderwhenIdidn’tanswer,elicitinganothergaspIwishedIcouldkeepinside.Histhickthighslidbetweenmine,spreadingmeforhimsomuchmyskirtrakedupsixinches.
“Youdon’twantmetotouchyouthewayIwastouchingthem?”
Hedidn’thavetoclarifywhothemwasashishandwrappedaroundmythroat,mypulsethumpingagainsthispalm.Heliftedmychinevenmore,forcingmetolookathim.
“Youdon’twantmetohaulthissweetassovermyshoulderandcarryyouinside,”heasked,runningthetipofhisnosealongthebridgeofmine.Itastedhisbreathwhenhefinishedhisquestion.“Topinyouagainstmywindow,hikethisskirtupoveryourhips,andfuckyouforthewholecitytowatch?”
Mychestheavedagainsthis,andhedrovethatthighalittlehigher,takingmyskirtwithitasmyeyelidsflutteredshut.
Hisgriponmyhipstightened,justafraction,justenoughtobreakme.
AndIkissedhim.
Allittookwasmepressingupontomytoesacentimetermoretopressmylipstohis,andIsuckedinabreathwhenhegroanedatthecontact,hishandmovingfrommythroattothebackofmyneckandholdingmetohimforalong,ravenouskiss.Hislipsweresobig,sofirmastheydemandedmine.Iopenedforhim,moaningandsqueezingmylegstogetherwhenhedippedhistongueinsidetotasteme.
Butasquicklyasthekisshadcome,hepulleditaway,alongwiththerestofhim.
Mybodyconvulsedatthelossofheat,athowthehumidairsuddenlyfeltcoolwhenitwashedovermyexposedthighsfromwheremyskirthadriddenup.
AndVinceTanev,thatcockymotherfucker,wipedthecornerofhismouthwithhisthumbwhileawickedsmilespreadonhislips.
“Sorry,pet,”hesaid,tuckinghishandsinhispockets.“You’llhavetoadmityouwantitbeforeIgiveittoyou.”
Igapedathim.
Andthen,Igrowledoutascream,rightingmyskirtandshovinghimsohardinthechestthathestumbledbackward
“Iamnotyourpet,”Iseethed.
Hebarkedoutalaughthatmademeshovehimagain.
“God,youaresuchabastard.Ihateyou!”
“Sureyoudo.”
Hishandshotupintheair,wavingatablackcarasitpulleduptothecurb.Itwasthesameonefromthebeginningofthenight,andthedriverdippedhisheadatVinceinacknowledgementasheputthecarinpark.
“Whatisthis?”
“Yourride,”hesaid,pullingthebackdooropen.Heallbuttossedmeinsidebeforeshuttingitagain.Thewindowwasrolleddown,andhebracedhishandsontheedgeofit,leaningdownsohecouldseeme.“Goodnight,Maven.Seeyouinthemorning.”
Vincewinked,standingandthumpingontheroofofthecarbeforehebackedupafewsteps.HeworeacockysmilelikeI’djusthandedhimthewinninglotterynumbers,andI’dneverfeltmorebetrayedbymybodythanIdidinthatmoment—mychestheaving,headdizzyfromourkiss,pantieswetundermyskirt.
ThecarspedoffbeforeIcouldtellhimtogofuckhimself.SexualAwakening
Vince
TwodaysafterthewininTampa,weflewtoPittsburghforaFridaynightgame
Itwasback-to-backawaygames—PittsburghonFridayandBaltimoreonSaturday.WeflewoutThursdayeveningtogetsettled,andwithahomewinunderourbeltandathree-gamewinningstreakflyingwithus,wewereconfident.
Iheldontothatconfidence,ontothefactthatweknewwhatweweredoing,andwehadthechancetoreallyhavetheleague’sattentionifwewontheseawaygames,too.Thatwouldbefivegamesinarow.
Tampahadn’twonfivegamesinarowsince2015.
Nothingmotivatedmelikethepotentialtomakeheadlines,otherthanthechancetosilencesportsanalystsandtheirassumptionsaboutmeandmyteam.Icoulddobothwiththesewins,andIkeptthatintheforefrontofmymind.
AfterthemorningskateonFriday,Iwentbacktomyhotelroomtodomyusualpre-gameroutine.Butsomethingfeltoff.
Icouldn’tplaceit,butIknewwithoutoverthinkingitthatIneededtoshakethingsup.
“I’mgoingsomewhere.”
Mavenpeekedupatmefromwhereshewasworkingonherphoneonthecouchinmysuite.Sheworeolivesweatpantsandanoversizedblackt-shirtthatswallowedhersmallframe.Herbarefeetweretuckedbeneathher,nomakeuponherfaceandherhairnatural.Ididn’thavetoguessthatshealsodidn’thaveabraonunderthatshirt,whichkilledmeasmuchasitmademecountmyluckystars.
Itstolemybreathamoment,seeingherlikethat—comfortable,relaxed,likeshewasjustwastingawayanafternooninherownhome.
I’dbeenbuzzedthenightafterourhomegame,butIstillrememberedeverything.Irememberedfollowingheroutofthatbar,rememberedtheexactmomentIrealizedshewasn’tmadatme.
Shewasjealous.
Ididn’tneedhertoconfirmit,becausewhenI’dbackedherintothatwall,herbodyhadbetrayedwhateverlieshewastryingtotellmeandherself.
She’dkissedme.
Ithadtakeneverythinginmenottotakeherrightthenandthere.ThewayshemeltedintomewhenIkissedherback,howshetrembledwhenmyhandsframedherfaceandmylegslidbetweenherthighs.Ilovedpushingthatskirtuptoherhips,lovedpushingthatgirltotheedgeevenmore.
Neitherofushadsaidawordaboutitsince.
IknewwhyIhadn’t.ItoldherallIneededtothatnight—thatifshewantedme,shewasgoingtohavetoadmitit.Shewasgoingtohavetouseherbiggirlwordsandsayitoutloud.
Butshehadn’tbroachedthesubjecteither,eitherbecauseshewasstillpissedatme,orshewastryingtoconvinceherselfitdidn’thappen.
Regardless,itdidn’tbotherme.
Iwasapatientman.
OrsoItoldmyself.
“Okay?”shesaidcarefullywhenIdidn’telaborate.
“Youdon’tneedtocome,”Isaid.“It’snothingthatneedstobecovered.”
Thatmadehereyesnarrowinsuspicion,andshesetherphoneasidebeforesittingupalittlestraighter.“Whereareyougoing?”
Ishrugged.“Justsomewheretoclearmyhead.”
Shewatchedmeamomentlongerbeforehoppingupfromthecouch.“Ijustneedtochangerealquick.”
“Youreallydon’thavetocome,”Isaid.“Ifyouwantabreak.”
“Twenty-four-seven,remember?”sheremindedme,andthensheslippedoutofmyroomandovertoherstochange.
Ismirkedinvictory.Reversepsychologyworkedalittletoowellonthiswoman.Shewasnothingifnotstubborn,butsometimes,thatworkedtomyadvantage.
Thoughwehadn’tspokenaboutwhathappenedbetweenus,Ifeltachargeofelectricityanytimeshewasnear.Whenwesatnexttoeachotherontheplane,herlaughingandplayingcardswithCarterwhileIpretendedtolistentoapodcast,Isawthehaironherarmstandonendwhenshebrushedagainstme,felthowshedrewherbreathsalittleshallower.
TheguyshadtakenmycoachingfromthatnightatBoomer’sanddoneeverythingtomakesureMavenfeltcomfortablewithus—whetherwewereinthepublic’seyeoraloneinthearena.Ididn’tknowwhyMavenhadfeltvulnerableenoughtoopenuptomeaboutwhathappenedwithherex,butIknewonething
Ididn’twanttobelumpedintothesamecategoryashim,andIwantedmyteamtoprovetoMaventhatweweren’tallthesame.
WhenwewereinthebackoftheblackcarI’darrangedforus,shewatchedthecitypassoutthewindow,takinginthecool,graydaypaintingthecity.
Iwatchedher.
Shefrownedwhenwepulledintotheparkinglotoftheold,beaten-downrink—firstatthescenery,thenatme,andthenagainatthebuildingaswebothgotoutofthecar.Itappedthetrunktwicewithmyfistuntilthedriverpoppedit,andthenwithmydufflebagslungovermyshoulder,Iledtheway.
“Whatisthis?”Mavenasked.
“You’llsee.”
Itwasquietwhenwewalkedintotherink,saveforthesoundsthatalwayscamewithit—skatesgliding,pucksbeinghit,sticksscrapingtheice.Ismiledatthefamiliarityofit,ofhowittookmebacktoasimplertimewhenMomandDadputmeinpadsasakidandtoldmetojusthavefun.
BobbyGreenstoodinthebox,hishandsonhishipswhilehewatchedthekidsskatearoundontheice.Hehadawhistlebetweenhisteeth,andheshookhisheadatsomethingbeforeheglancedoveratwhereMavenandIhadjustwalkedin.
Thewhistlefellfromhismouth,andagrinsplithisface.“Well,I’llbedamned.VinceTanev.”
Thatmadehalftherinkstopskating,andonebyone,thekidslitupwithrecognition.
“Nicetoseeyou,Coach,”Isaid,shakinghishand.Hisplayershadstoppedskating,andwerestandingatvariousplacesintherinkwatchingusandwhisperingtoeachother.
“Ithoughtyouwerejoking,youknow.”
“Well,here’sproofthatIwasserious.”
BobbyandIhadplayedatMichigantogether.ButwhereIwenttotheshow,hecamebacktohishometowntocoachattherinkwherehe’dlearnedhowtoplay.Hewantedtogivebacktothecommunitythatgavesomuchtohim,andtogivemorekidswithlesserfinancialmeanstheopportunitytoplay.
Hockeywasn’texactlycheap,andIrespectedhimmorethanIcouldsayforgivinguphisowndreamtohelpthekidsinhiscommunitychasetheirs.
Iwasfartooselfish,toodriventobethebestformetoeverdothesame
Whenwe’dgraduated,onourlastnightout,ItoldBobbyI’dcomeseehimwhenIwasinthecity.He’dlaughedmeoff,sayingI’dbetoobusyfightingoffgirlstorememberhim.
SeeinghissmilerightnowwasworthmorethananynightI’deverhadwithapuckbunny.
Withoutaword,heclappedmeontheshoulder,hiseyesspeakingvolumes.“Howlongdowehaveyoufor?”
“Maybeanhour.”
HiseyesflickedbehindmetoMaventhen,andhearchedabrowatmebeforeextendingahandforher.“Excusemyformerteammateforbeingarudesonofabitch,”hesaid.“I’mBobby.”
“Maven,”shesaid,smilingassheshookhishand.
Irealizedthenthatonlyhalfthekidsontherinkwerestaringatme,becausetheotherhalfwereveryfirmlystaringather.Theyhadtobesomewhereinthetwelvetofourteenrange,soIcouldn’tblamethem.
MavenwasasexualawakeningifIeverdidseeone.
“Ah,you’retheonegivingusallaccesstoTampa’sHotshotRookie!”hesaid,givingmeafakeone-twopunchwiththewords.Heshookhisheadoncehewasuprightagain.“Ithinktheyshouldhaveyouinfrontofthecamera,ifyouaskme.”
Mavensmiled.“I’mnowherenearasinterestingasthisone,”shesaid,pointingtome.
“Andhe’snowherenearasjawdropping.”
Bobbyalwayshadawaywiththeladies,whichwasexactlywhyhewasalreadymarriedattwenty-three.
“Alright,easythere,Bobbers,”Isaid.
“What,youtwodating?”
“No,”Mavenansweredquickly.
Bobbygrinned,lookingatmelikehesawsomethingIdidn’t.“ThenIguessI’mfreetoremarkonherbeautyalldayifIwantto,Vinny.”
“AndI’mfreetotellyourwifeaboutit?”
Hepointedatme.“Youwin.Alright!”Heblewhiswhistle,callinghisteamover.“Well,boys.WehaveapproximatelysixtyminuteswithVinceTanev.”Hegrinnedatmewhentheyallbuzzedwithexcitementattheconfirmationofitreallybeingme.Whenheturnedbacktothem,heaskedonesimplequestion.“Whereshouldwestart?”
Hewasmetwithsilence.
Andthen,everyplayertalkingovereachothertryingtobetheonetoanswerfirst.
OnceIhadonskatesandpads,Itooktotheice,runningdrillswiththeteamandofferingpointerswhereIhadthem.WhenI’dlookoveratMaven,Bobbywasalwaysyakkingitupbesideher.Theguycouldn’thelphimself.
Ispentaboutforty-fiveminutesontheice,andthelastfifteentakingpicturesandsigningautographs.Then,withonelasthugfrommyformerteammateandfriend,MavenandIwerebackinthecarandonourwaytothehotel.
Ialreadyfeltmorerefreshed,energizedbytheexcitementofthekidsattherink.
“Bobbyhadsomefunstoriestotell,”Mavensaidaswerodeacrosstown.
“AboutalltherecordsIbrokeatMichigan?”
“Moreabouthowmanygirlsyouleftheartbrokeninyourwake.”
Mysmileflattened.
Damnit,Bobby.
Mavensnuffedalaughthroughhernose.“Don’tworry.ItoldhimitwasnothingIdidn’talreadyknow.”
Irealizedthenshewaspreparingapostonherphone,avideoofmeskatingdrillswiththekidspulledup.Icovereditwithmyhand.
“Don’t.”
Shefrowned.“What?”
“Don’tpostit.”
Herjawwentslack,confusiondrawingherbrowstogether.“But…”
“Somethingsaren’tforpublicconsumption.”
Iheldmyhandoverherphonewhileshewatchedme,onlypullingitawaywhenIwassureI’dmadeitclear.ShekepthereyesonmeevenafterIremovedmyhand.
Andtherewassomethinginhergaze,somethingthatwasbecomingmynewfavoritedrug.
ProofthatI’dprovenherwrongaboutme.
Notwithanyhelpfrommyformerteammate,itappeared.
Ilookedoutthewindowfortherestoftheride,andwhenwegotbacktothehotel,therestofmypre-gameroutinewaswaitingforme.Ididn’thavethenap,butIdidhavethepasta,andthepushups,thecalltomysisterandtheclosetlight.
MavenandIdidn’tfight,butthenagain,wehadn’treallytalkedatallsincethatnightoutsidethebar.
Somaybeitcounted.
WhenwewoninovertimeagainstthePittsburghVenom,IdecidedthatitdidHotStreak
Maven
TheOspreysmanagedtosqueakoutanarrowtwo-to-onewinagainsttheBaltimoreRailers,sealingthemtheirfifthwininarow.Thisgamehadn’tbeenasprettyasthelastfew,andVincesaidasmuchtothereporterinterviewinghimonthebenchafterthegame.
“AsyouandtheteampreparetoheadbacktoTampa,what’syourfocusgoingtobe?”thereporterasked.Shewasbeautiful,professional,withatailoredskirtsuitandmakeupappliedtoperfection.Shehadchampagneblondehairandskinaspaleasmoonlight.Ididn’tmissthewayshebattedhereyelashesatVinceandleanedinalittlecloserthannecessaryduringtheinterview.
“I’mgoingtocontinuetoplaylikewe’realreadyintheplayoffs,”hesaid.“Likeeverygamecounts.I’mdisappointedthatIdidn’tscoretonight,butI’mproudofmyteamforshowingupandgettingthejobdone.Icandobetter,”headdedwithanod.“AndIwilldobetter.”
IrecordedtheinterviewonInstagramLivefrombehindthecameramanwhowaswiththereporter.ThecommentsrolledinfasterthanIcouldreadthem.
Tampalovesyou,Vince!
Takeyourshirtoff,Vince!
It’sajersey,notashirt,idiot.
Youdidgreattonight,Vince!
Youplayedlikeshit,rookie.Whatarewepayingyoufor?
Mykidcanskatebetterthanyou,Tanev.
Perrywonthisgametonight—notyou.
Ididn’tknowhowheputupwithit,theconstantchatterfromhisfans.Mostofthemlovedhim,butsomeofthemwerejust…mean.Itwasappallingtomehowmuchtheyfeltliketheyhadclaimoverhim,overtheteam.
MyinboxwassooutofcontrolthesedaysthatIonlycheckedahandfuladay,randomlypickingonestorespondtowithaheart-eyeemoji.IsaweverythingfromlettersofdevotiontoVinceortheteamtorantsaboutstatsandinsultsthatfeltpersonal—andtheyweren’tevenaboutme.Icouldn’timaginewhatVincedealtwithonhisownsocialmedia.Thenagain,Iimaginedheprobablydidn’tcare—notwhenhewassoconfidenthewasthebest.
Whenthereporterthankedhimandtheinterviewwasover,Ifollowedhimbacktothelockerroom.Foramoment,hewasquiet,hisheadhanging,adeeplinebetweenhisbrows.Iwonderedifhereallywasbeatinghimselfupforhisperformance.Sure,hedidn’tscore,butheplayedwell.Theywon.
Icouldtellfromhisexpressionthatthatwasn’tenoughforhim.
Butwhenwemadeittothelockerroomwherecelebrationswerealreadyinfullswing,hetookonedeepbreath,plasteredonasmile,andslippedrightbackintotheVinceCoolpersona.
“We’regettingtankedtonight,”Cartersaid,jumpingonVince’sback.“Five-gamehotstreak,boys!”
“MaybeMavenhereisourluckycharm,”Jaxsonadded,andbeforeIcouldprotest,hehadmethrownoverhisshoulderlikeasackofpotatoes.“We’llhavetokidnapyouwhenyourmonthisover.”
“Putmedown,”Isaidonalaugh,beatingmyfistsonhisback.Itwaslikehardstone.
“Onlyifyouagreetogooutwithustonight.”
“Putherdown.”
ThoselastthreewordscamefromVince,anditwasthedeepestI’deverheardhimspeak.Slowly,Jaxsondidasheasked,andthenthelockerroomwasquietforamoment—alleyesontheexchange.
“Easy,Pidge.Iwasjustmessingaround,”Jaxsonsaid,andhelookedalmostscaredbeforeagrinsplithisface,andheeyedVincelikeheknewallhisdeepestsecrets.
Vincedidn’trespond.Hejustglancedatme,backatJaxson,andthensatdownononeofthebenchestobeginthearduousprocessofstrippingoutofhispads.
Iwaitedinthehallwayoutsidethelockerroom,uploadingsomeofthecontentI’dfilmedwhiletheboystookquickshowersandgotreadytoloadthebus.Wewerespendingthenightinthecity,flyingoutfirstthinginthemorning,andwhiletheguyswerereadyforanightoutonthetown,I,forone,wasmissingwhatlittlesemblanceofaroutineIhadbackinTampa.
Mywholelifehadbeenthrownoff-kilter,andthemoreIslippedintothisnewlifestyle,thelessIknewwhatdayitwasorwhatwasgoingon.IdidyogawhenIcould,calledmyparents,andsawLiviawhenshewasatthestadium,butotherthanthat,myliferevolvedaroundVinceTanev.
“Youokay?”
Istartledatthevoice,butrecognizeditimmediately.Slippingmyphoneintomypurse,Ipushedoffthewalltostand,tryingformybestsmile.
Vincewasfreshlyshowered,hishairdampandmessy,eyeswideandalertlikehewasreadytotearupthetown.HeworegrayjoggersandaroyalblueOspreyslong-sleeveshirt,onethathuggedtheleanmusclesofhischestandarmsandtaperedathiswaist.
Wehadn’ttalkedmuchsinceweleftTampa,butIcouldstillfeelthebrandofhislipsonmine.Whenhewascloselikehewasnow,Ifeltitburnevenhotter.
“Yeah.Weheadingout?”
Vinceeyedmelikehedidn’tbelieveme.“I’mnotgettingonthebus.”
“Oh?”
“Areyoutired?”
Ilaughedasayawnstretchedmymouthopenrightasheasked.“Fullofenergy.”
Hesmirkedalittle,butitfellquickly.“Igotacar.Wanttocomewithme?”
“Where?”
“Anywhere.”
“Youdon’twanttogooutwiththeguys?”
Ourconversationwasbrokenwhenafewofhisteammatespassed,andhehigh-fivedoneofthem,noddingtotheothers.Theyhadalreadycrackedopenafewbeers.
“Nottonight,”heansweredwhentheyweregone.
“Why?”
Heshrugged.
“Andyoudon’twanttogotobed?”
“Ican’t,”hesaid.“Notafteragame.Ittakesawhilefortheadrenalinetowane.”
Ichewedtheinsideofmylip,debating.Itwouldbeeasytojustgobacktothehotelandgetsomemuch-neededrest.ButsomethingaboutthewayVincewatchedme,abouthowheseemedtonotwanttobealone…ithadmereconsidering.
“I’mstillmadatyou,youknow.”Ibreathedthewordslowenoughsoonlyhecouldhear.
Thecornerofhismouthtickedup,buthedidn’tsayanything.
Hejustgrabbedmyhandinhis,leadingmethroughthehallwayandouttowhereacarwaitedforus.ThatFace
Maven
TheInnerHarborinBaltimoreremindedmeofTampa’sRiverwalk,thelightsofthecityservingasabackdropandreflectingoffthewater.ExceptIwouldhavebeensweatinginTampa,eventhoughitwasearlyNovember.
InBaltimore,Iwasshivering.
VinceandIwalkedquietlysidebyside,andIthoughtthatwaswhathe’dbroughtmeherefor.Whenthecarhaddroppedusoffandhe’djuststartedstrolling,Iassumedthatwasit.Hejustwantedawalktoclearhishead.
IwaswishingI’dwornmorecomfortableshoes—andaheaviercoat.
Butwedidn’twalkmorethanahundredyardsbeforeheturnedustowardadock,andheshookhandswithamanhalfwaydownitbeforeclimbingaboardaboat.
Although,callingitaboatfeltsilly.
Itwasmorelikeasmallyacht.
Ishookmyheadindisbeliefatthepristineluxuryofit—thecrispwhitehullgleamingunderthemoonlight,theplushleatherseatingareasurroundingahottub,thetablescoveredinaspreadofhorsd’oeuvres.Vincewatchedmyexpressionasthecaptainintroducedhimselftome,alongwiththecrew,andthenVinceandIwerehandedglassesofchampagneandgivenatour.Weendeditatthefrontoftheship,VincetakingaseatononeofthecoucheswhileIsatinachairacrossfromhim.Theteakwasgorgeous,thedeckfurnituremoreexpensivethanallmybelongingscombined.
“HowonEarthdidyoumanagetogetayachtcharteredatalmostmidnight?”Iaskedwhenwewerealone,thecrewworkingtogetusoffthedockandoutintotheharbor.
“GaryisafriendofBobby’s,”heexplainedonashrug,referringtoourcaptain.IrememberedBobbywellenough—especiallythestorieshesharedaboutVinceincollege.IfI’dhadanydoubtthatTampa’sshinynewtoyhidhisplayboyactivitiesbehindhiswell-curatedfa?ade,itwasobliteratedwithBobby’srecountingoftheirdaysatMichigan.
Jameshadbeenlikethat.
Hehadashinyreputationoncampus,andevenmoresowhenitcametothemediathatfollowedhiscollegecareerasheworkedtowardbeinginvitedtoplayinthePGATourwhenhegraduated.HewasoneofthefewamateurswhoreceivedaninvitetoplayattheMasters,andhe’dmadethecut,whichhadeveryoneinatizzyabouthimandhisfuture.
Toeveryonewhothoughttheyknewhim,hewasanAll-Americanboynextdoor.ButI’dseenhimnot-so-covertlycheckoutanotherwoman’sassasheputhisarmaroundme.I’dwatchedhimwinkandflirtwithgirlsoncampusashesignedautographs,onlytoquicklykissmeandtellmeitwasallforshow.I’dseenhimplayincharitytournaments,onlytomakefunofthepoorandcomplainabouttaxeswithhisbuddiesatthecountryclub.
Somanyredflags,andyetI’dignoredthemall—becauseIthoughtIwastheexceptiontotherule.IthoughtIwasthegirlwhobrokethemold.Ithoughthewastellingthetruthwhenhesaidhewasloyaltome,thatwehadforeverinourhands.
Ishivered,thepastasicycoldastheairsweepingthroughmyhair.
“Don’tyouthinkthisisanactivityalittlemorewell-suitedforTampa?”Iasked,wrappingtheblanketoneofthestewshadgivenmetightlyaroundmyshoulders.“It’sfreezing.”
“Wehavethehottub,”Vincesaidinwayofasolution.
“Right.Andnoswimwear.”
“Whoneedsswimwear?”
Isnortedalaugh,butVincedownedthelastofhischampagnewithhiseyeslockedonmine.Then,hestood.
Heshruggedoffhisjacketfirst,kickinghisshoesoffatthesametime.Next,hereachedonehandbackoverhishead,grippinghislong-sleeveshirtbytheneckandtearingitoffinonesmoothpull.
Thecitylightscasthiminasoftglow—hisleanabsandarms,hischest,theunmistakablecutofmusclesthatmadeaV,theapexofwhichwasstillhiddenbyhisjoggers.ThecornerofhismouthliftedwhenIdidn’tlookaway,andhepulledhisjoggersdownnext,kickingthemoffhisanklesbeforeremovinghissocks.
Innothingbutapairofblackbriefs,Vincestoodonthedeckofthatyachtlikeheownedit.Histhickthighsstretchedthefabric,anditdidn’tseemtobotherhimthatitwasfreezing.Icouldseetheoutlineofhim,thickandproud,hiscocksobigitlookedlikehe’dstuffedhispants.
Whenheslidhisthumbsbeneaththewaistband,Ilookedupattheskyjustintimetohearhimshedthatlastbitofclothing.IthoughtIalsoheardhimchucklebeforetherewasthedistinctsoundofabodywadingintowater.
WhenIwasmostlysureitwassafetolookagain,Ibroughtmyeyesbacktothehottub—whereVincewasreclining,hisarmsdrapedovertheedges,hazeleyeswatchingme.
“Youjoiningme?”heasked,thesteamwaftingaroundhim.
“Keepdreaming.”
Heshrugged.“Suityourself.Thiswaterisperfect.”Healmostpurredthewords,sinkingdownmoreintothehottubwithagroan.Hiseyesflutteredshut.“Andwehavetheboatforthreehours.”
Iclenchedmyteethasaparticularlybriskwindwhippedthroughmyhairthen.EvenMotherNaturewasplayingdirty.
“ButIguessyouhaveyourblanket,”hesaid,hiseyesstillclosed.“Thatshouldkeepyouwarmenough.”
Hissmilegrewaninch.
“You’resosureofyourself,aren’tyou?”Iscoffed.
“I’msureyou’llhavemorefuninherewithmethanoutthereinthatwind.”
“I’lltakemychances.”
Hesmiledevenwider,andIwasthankfultherewasn’talightinthathottubbecausefromthisangle,IwasprettysureI’dbeabletoseeeverything.
Whenwemadeitoutoftheharbor,thewindpickedupevenmore,andIcurledinonmyself,teethchattering.EvenwiththethirdglassofchampagneIeagerlydowned,hopingitwouldbringalittlewarmth,therewasnouse.
IwasaPopsicle.
“Fine,”Igrittedout,standingandreluctantlyshruggingoffmyblanket.“T-turnaroundandc-closeyoureyes.”
“Ilikeitwhenyou’rebossy,”Vincesaid,andIflickedhimoffbeforehedidwhatIasked.
Quickly,Iundressed,leavingmythongandbraon.IfiguredIcouldchangeandgethomewithoutthemundermyclotheslater,butitseemedpressingtonotgetintothathottubnakedwithVinceTanev.
ThewaterstungatfirstwhenIsteppedin,pricklingmyskinuntilIwasfullysubmerged.WhenIwas,Iletoutalongsighofrelief.Thewaterwasperfectlywarm.
“Aren’tyougladyoudidn’tletyourstubbornnesswin?”Vinceasked,turningtolookatme.Ididn’tmisshowhiseyesimmediatelywenttomytits,andhealmostlookeddisappointedtofindthemcovered.
Isplashedhim.
Forawhilewesatinacomfortablesilence,relaxinginthebubblingwater.Ididn’trealizeIletoutanotherlongsighuntilIopenedmyeyesandfoundVincelookingatme.
“Youneededthis.”
Iwastemptedtoarguewithhim,butthewaterhadmefeelingmorerelaxedthanIhadinweeks.“MaybeIdid.”
“Somethingwrong?”
“No,”Isaidonanothersigh.“Just…alotgoingon,Iguess.”
“Youneedtounwind.”
Ilaughed.“Right,withallmyfreetime.”
ThatmadeVincefrown,andIwavedhimoff.
“I’mfine.IdoyogawhenIcan,whichhelps,andthisisalltemporary.I’llbebacktomynormalroutinebeforeIknowit.”
Ithoughtthatmadehimfrownevenmore,buthesmiledsoquicklyontheedgeofitthatIcouldn’tbesure.
“Turnaround,”hesaid,movingslowlytowardme.Hewaslikeasnakeinthewater,glidingthroughit,headjustabovethewaterline,hismuscularshouldersmakingasmallwake.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iasked,backingaway.
Hishandcaughtmywristunderwater,andhetuggedmeforwardbeforespinningmetofacetheoppositeway.
“Youareaterriblelistener,”hesaidinmyear.
Chillssweptoverme,andinthenextbreath,hismassivehandswerewrappedaroundmyshoulders,thumbskneadingintothetensemuscles.
Imoanedsoloudlymyfaceflamedwithembarrassment.
Vincepausedonlyasecondbeforecontinuinghisdeliciousassault,andIhadnochoicebuttomeltintohim.Thewater,hishands—itallfeltsofuckinggood
Thesilencewasnolongercomfortable.
Itwasheavy,weightedwithsomethingthatmademewanttorunformylife.SoIclearedmythroatandreachedforthefirstthingIcouldthinkoftobreakit.
“Thatwasreallysweet,”Isaid,bitingbackanothergroanthatIwantedsodesperatelytoreleasewhenherubbedmysorerhomboids.AllmyfocuswasonnotfocusingonhowVinceTanevwasnakedbehindmewithhishandsonmybody.“Whatyoudidwiththekidsatthatrinkyesterday…”
“Justpayingavisittoanoldfriend.”
Mystomachsouredabit.“Yeah.Bobbyseemstoknowyoureallywell.”
Henodded.“WewerecloseatMichigan.He’sabeastofadefenseman,justasgood,ifnotbetter,thanBrittzy.”
“Whydidn’thegopro?”
“Hecouldhave.Hehadteamswhowantedhim.HeprobablywouldhavestartedintheAHL,though,”hesaid.“ButeveniftheywouldhavetoldhimhecouldhavecomestraighttotheNHL,Idon’tthinkhewouldhave.Bobbyhasalwayswantedtocoach,tobeatthatrinkthathelpedhimsomuch.Noteveryonehasparentswhocanaffordtodropthekindofcashhockeyrequires.”
Iletthatsitforamoment,wincingashedughisthumbsintomyneck.Iletmyheadfallbackwhenhemovedtomyshouldersagain.
“You’vebeenoffonthistrip.”
Itwasastatement,notsomuchaquestion,andVincedidn’tanswerforalongmoment.
“Ineedtoplaybetter.”
Ibarkedoutalaugh.“Why,soyoucanwinallthreestarsofthegameinsteadofjustone?”
“Ididn’tscoreineitherofthesegames,”hesaid.
“Youhadanassist.”
“It’snotthesame.”
Ipulledaway,turningsoIcouldfacehim.Iimmediatelymissedthefeelofhishandsonme—whichwasaprobleminandofitself—butIwantedtolookathimwhenIsaid,“Youdon’thavetocarrytheweightoftheteamonyourshoulders.”
“No,”heagreed,hiseyesgluedtomine.“ButIcanplaybetter.”
“You’reaperfectionist.”
“Ijustholdmyselftoahighstandard.”
“Thatmustbeexhausting.”
Hesmiled,lookingupattheskybeforehelookedatmeagain.“It’stheopposite,actually.IfeelenergizedwhenI’mperformingwell,whenI’mscoringgoalsandtraininghard.IfeelmybestwhenI’mperformingonandofftheice.”
“Whatareyouafraidof?”
Thequestionseemedtocatchhimoffguard,andVincewatchedmeforalongpausebeforeheanswered.
“Beingworthless.”
Iwasn’texpectingsuchanhonestanswer.Infact,IguessI’dbeenexpectingajoke,becausethevulnerabilitywithwhichhesaidthosewordsstruckmelikeabatagainstthehead.
Ifrowned,andthelongerIwatchedhim,themoreVinceshiftedundermygaze.Eventually,heclearedhisthroatandmotionedformetoturnaroundagain,swirlinghispointerfingerintheair.WhenIdid,hewentbacktomassagingmyshoulders.
Igroaned.“God.Thisfeelssogood.”
“Stillmadatme?”
Ifeltunderthewaterforhisside,andthenpinchedithardenoughtomakehimsquirmaway.
“Ow,”hesaid,pointedly.
“Youdeservedit.”
“Why?What’dIdo?”
Ididn’thumorhimwitharesponse,whichmadehimletoutasoftlaugh.
“Youreallyaretense,”hesaid,findingaparticularlystubbornknotundermyshoulderbladeanddiggingintoit.Ihissed,butdidn’tpullaway,knowingI’dfeelbetteronceitwasworkedout.
“Yeah,well,let’sjustsay,I’mnotusedtoyourhoursyet.”
“Tellmeaboutyourlife.Whatdidanormaldaylooklikebeforeyougotthisassignment?”
Isighed.“Well,Iusuallystartmymorningonmymat.”
“Yoga?”
Inodded.“Andthencoffee,ofcourse.”
“Ofcourse.”
“Fromthere,itdepends.Ontheweekends,I’mprobablytendingmygarden,orspendingtimeatthebeach,orhittinganewbrunchspotwithLiv.Sundaysstartatthepark,asyouknow.Ifit’saweekday,I’meitherintheofficeoroutonthetown,dependingonwhatmyjobisthatday.”
“Isthisyourdreamjob?”
Ilaughed.“Idon’tknowifIhaveadreamjob.”
“Sure,youdo.Whatwouldyoudoifmoneywerenoobject,ifyourbillswerepaidandallyouhadtodowasfillyourtime?”
AlongmomentpassedbeforeIfoundthewordstoanswer.
“Idon’tknow.”
Itwasthemostpainfuladmission,oneIwassurprisedImade.ItdredgeduptheembarrassmentI’dfeltwhenIadmittedthattoJameswhenweweretogether,howhe’djudgedmeforitevenbeforeIrealizedthat’swhathewasdoing.
Peoplelikehim,likeVince,didn’tunderstandwhatitwasliketonotbebornknowingexactlywhatyouwantedtodowithyourentirelife.
“Myparents,they’vealwaysknowntheirpath,”Isaid.“TheywereinAmeriCorpstogether,shapingcommunitiesforthebetter.Theydedicatedanentiredecadeoftheirlifeaftercollegebeforetheygotoutandstartedmakingalifeoftheirown.Now,Momworkswithawomen’sshelter,andDadbuildshousesincommunitieswhereowningahomeseemsmorelikeapipedreamthanarealitywithinreach.Theybroughtmeupwiththosesamevalues,andIwanttogiveback.IwanttomakeTampa,andtheworld,better.”
“But?”
Ihatedthatheknewtherewasabut,andIwasgladtobefacingawayfromhim,tonothavethosehazeleyespeeringintominewhenIanswered.
“ButIdon’tnecessarilyloveitthewaytheydo.Don’tgetmewrong,”Isaidhurriedly.“Ienjoygivingback,Ido.Ilovefeelingconnectedtopeople,andmakingthemfeelvaluable,worthwhile—remindingthemthey’renotalone.It’sjust…Idon’tknow.IguessIjustwishIhadthesamepassionforit.Iwishitfueledmethewayitfuelsmyparents.”Ipaused.“YoushouldhaveseentheirfaceswhenItoldthemIdidn’twanttogointothePeaceCorps.Ithinkasmallpartofthemdiedthatday.”
“Doesanythingfuelyouthatway?”Vinceasked.
Iletoutalongexhale,myheartsqueezing.Itfeltsofoolishtosaytheanswertothatoutloud.BecausewhenIthoughtofwhatmademefeelpassionate,itwascreatingcontent—editingvideos,gettingtheperfectphotograph,creatingpresetsthat,inturn,createanentirevibe.Ilovedwritingcaptions.Ilovedmakingsomethingthatwentviral,thatreachedmillionsofpeopleworldwide.
Rightnow,itwasVinceTanevandtheTampaOspreysandhockey.
Butmaybeoneday,itcouldbemore.
Insteadofsayinganyofthat,Ijustshrugged.
Vince’sgriponmesoftened.“Youdon’thavetohaveitallfiguredoutrightnow,youknow?”
Inodded,butrefrainedfrompointingoutthathehaditallfiguredout,andhewasyoungerthanme.
“Whatyoudoneed,”hecontinued,movingtomassagemyneckagain.“Istorelax.”
“Saystheperfectionist.”
ButmyjokewascutshortbecauseVincemovedhishandsfrommyneckintomyhair,massagingthebaseofmyskull.
Imoaned,melting.
Ifhishandsonmyshouldersweren’talreadyenoughtounravelme,feelingthosemassivefingerscradlemyskullandmassagemyscalpwasenoughtomakemespontaneouslycombust.
Icouldn’thelpbutleanintothetouch.
Andintheprocess,myassbrushedagainsthim,ourskinconnectingunderwaterandsparkinganimpossiblefire.
Timestopped,Vincepausingonlyamomentbeforehishandswereworkingagain.IthoughtIheardhimswallow,thoughtIheardhisnextbreathcomeabitmorelabored.
Ididn’tpullaway.
Myheartthumpedloudinmyearsaswestayedlikethat,connectedbothwithhishandsinmyhairandhisthighjustbarelybrushingthebareskinofmyass.Andwhenhishandsmoveddown,fingertipsglidingovermyshouldersbeforedisappearingunderthewater,Ifelthimgrowhardbehindme,hiserectionpressingintothesmallofmyback.
Andstill,Ididn’tpullaway.
Thosefingertipsdanceddownthespanofmyarms,glidingbackupbeforetheywereonmyback.Hetouchedmesosoftlyitwasalmostlikehewasn’ttouchingmeatall,andyetIcouldn’tletoutthebreathlodgedinmythroat.
Henuzzledthespacebehindmyearwiththetipofhisnoseashishandssliddownlower,fingertipsdrawingacirclearoundthedimplesatthesmallofmyback.Theyfoundmyhipsnext,pullingmeflushagainsthim,lettingmefeelwhatIdidtohim.
Hisbreathwasinmyear,loudernow,moreunsteady.Hedidn’tsayawordashisfingersskatedovertheslimbandofmythong,andthenonehandpressedagainstmystomachastheothertraveledfartherup.Justthetipofonefingerslippedbeneaththebandofmybra,andhiscocktwitchedagainstmyback.
“Fuck,”hewhispered.
Thesoundwassoraw,anadmissionandaprayerallatonce,anditrumbledthroughme.Mynipplespeaked,thighsclenchingtogetheratthejoltofelectricityIfeltfromthatonelittleword
Hishandslidupjustafractionofaninchmore,pushingmybraoutoftheway.Iwonderedifhecouldfeelhowhardmyheartwaspounding,ifIwastremblingasmuchasIfeltlikeIwas.
Iheldmybreath,anglingmychintowardhimuntilIcouldtastehisexhales.Thetipofhisnoseranalongthebackofmyjaw,andjustashegently,barelycuppedmybreast,histonguesnakedoutandlickedmyearlobe.
“Morechampagne?”
ItoreawayfromVinceasthestewardess’svoicepiercedtheheavynightair.Iwasontheotherendofthehottubbythetimehersmilingfaceroundedthecorner,andsheofferedaglasstoVince,whodeclined,beforeItookoneanddownedit.
“Unfortunately,wehadtoturnaroundtoheadbackintotheharbor.Thereissomeweathercominginthatweweren’texpecting.Butyouhavealittlemoretimetoenjoythehottub,ifyouwish.”
Assoonassheleft,Iclimbedoutofthewhirlpool,notbotheringtoaskVincetoturnaway.Ijustgrabbedoneofthetowelsrolleduponachairandcoveredmyselfwithitbeforeswipingmyclothesoffthedeckandretreatinginside.
Inthebathroom,IcomposedmyselfasmuchasIcould,whichwastosaynotmuch.Istaredatmyreflectioninthemirror,atmyhair,wildfromhavingVince’shandsinit,andmyeyes,rimmedwithmymascara.
IwassowetIdidn’tknowhowIwasgoingtogocommandowithoutsoakingthroughmyslacks.
Redflags.Redflagseverywhereandyetstill,Iburnedforthatmanjustlikeeveryothersimperingpuckbunny.
IwasasangryatmyselfasIwasturnedon.
Istillhadn’tcompletelycaughtmybreathwhenIre-emergedonthedeck,andwewerealreadypullingintotheharbor.Vincewasdressed,too,hishandsinhispocketsashewatchedme.
Ihadplanstostayontheoppositeendofthedeckfromwherehewas,buthecrossedit,sidlingupnexttowhereIwasleaningovertherailingandwatchingthecityglideby.
“Ilikewhatyoupostedtonight,”hesaid,asifhedidn’tjusthavehishardcockpressedagainstmyback,asifhehadn’tjusttastedmyskinandpalmedmeundermybra.“Thevideo,itwascool.”
I’dputtogetheramashupofthetwoawaygames,matchingtheexplosivehitsofhimpummelinganopponentintotheglassorstealingapasswiththebeatofthemusic.
“Gladyoulikeit,”Isaid,stillabitbreathless.
“Youshouldpostapictureofus.”
Thatgotmyattention.
“Um…”
“Here,”hesaid,andbeforeIcouldreact,hehadmyphoneinhishand.Hehelditouttometounlock,whichIdidinadaze,andthenhehadInstagrampulledup,thescreenreflectingusinselfiemode.
Itwasdarkontheboat,butthelightsfromthecityshowedjustenoughofustomakeupagrainy,goldenimage.
Vincethrewhisarmaroundme,pullingmeintohim.Hewassomassive,hisarmhookedaroundmecompletely,shoulderoveroneofminewhilehishandhookedtheother.
“Don’tlooksoscared,”hewhisperedagainstmyneck,watchingourreflectiononthescreen.
Ireachedup,hookingmyhandsonhisarmthatwasaroundme.Hischinwasonthecrownofmyhead,hissmirksexyashell,eyeslikethatofaleopardwhojustspottedhisprey.
Hisextendedarmcapturedallofit—mepulledintohim,hisarmholdingmeclose,myhandscurledintothesleeveofhisjacket.Theflashwentoff,andbeforeIcouldevenseethepicture,Vincepulledaway.
“Whatareyoudoing?”Iasked,watchinghimwalkacrossthedeck,thumbingawayonthekeyboard.
“Postingit.”
“Noonewantstoseeme.Thisisaboutyou,remember?”
Hedidn’treplyasIfollowedhim.
“Whatareyouwriting?”
Hedidn’tanswerme,andhegotaluckybreakbecausethestewsweregettingusreadytodockanddisembark.Heslidmyphoneintothepocketofhisjacketanddidn’tgiveittomeuntilwewerebackinthecar.
Itwassolatebythetimewemadeittothehotel,buttheroomswerequietenoughthatIassumedtherestoftheteamwasstilloutonthetown.Therewasnowaytheywereasleepyet,notwithnothingtodointhemorningotherthanflyhome.
“Goodnight,”IsaidtoVincewhenwemadeittoourrooms.Iwasalreadytappingmykeycardandopeningmydoorwhenhejustleanedagainsttheframeofhis,watchingme.
Ipaused,archingabrow.
“You’llbeinmybedsoon.”
Mymouthpartedathiswords,andIblinkedbeforelettingoutanincredulouslaugh.Then,Iletmydoorshutwithoutgoinginsideit,crossingtowhereVincewas,instead.
Ifoldedmyarms,liftingmychinhigh.“Nevergoingtohappen,Pigeon.”
Hepushedtostand,invadingmyspacesoquicklyIbackedupandhitthewallin-betweenourdoors.Vincestareddownatme,alazysmileonhislips.
“Ican’twaittomakeyoueatyourwords.”
Hepressedintome,justalittle,justenoughtomakemybreathcatch.Hereachedupandtrailedthebackofhisknucklesupthelineofmyjaw,tuggingonmyearlobeasiftoremindmethathisteethhaddonethesametonight.
Then,hegrinnedwider,steppingawaycompletelyandunlockinghisdoor.
“Ilovethatface,bytheway,”hesaid,glancingatwhereIwasstillfrozeninplace.“Theoneyoumakewhenyourealizeyou’vemetyourmatch.”
???
Ididn’tthinktocheckmyphonewhenImadeitinside.Iwasbuzzingfromhistouch,mindandbodyonfirefromthenight’seventsandhowIfeltaboutthem.Iwasalsoexhausted,somuchsothatIbarelywashedmyfacebeforeIfellintobedandletsleeptakemeunder.
Thenextmorning,Iwoketoaflurryoftexts.
Reya:CamillaandIarefreakingoutoverlastnight’spost.Inthebestway.Callmewhenyou’reup!
Camilla:Ismellanassignmentextension…waytobreaktheInternet!AndeveryTampagirl’sheart.??
Livia:Toldyouyouwereintrouble.CanyoutellmeIwasrightoveraglassofredsoon?Ineeddetails.
Iclickedoutofmybestfriend’stextwithmyhearthammeringinmyears,pullingupInstagramnext.Iclickedonmyprofilepicture,quicklytappingthroughthestoriesI’dpostedoflastnight’sgameuntilIcametothepictureofmeandVince.
Theimagewassostriking,Icoveredmymouthwithonehand,staringatitindisbelief.
Myeyeswereabitsquintedfromtheflash,whichjustmademelooksated,thesmileonmylipssubtleandsoft.Mynormallycurlyhairwasstyledinsoftwavesandblowinginthewind,freshfromtheblowoutI’dhaddoneearlierintheafternoon.Strandsofitstucktomylips,myhandsclutchingVince’sarmtightly,fingertipscurledintothefabricofhisjacket.AndeventhoughIknewthatI’djustbeentired,IlookedlikeI’djustbeenfreshlyfucked.
AndtherewasVincebehindme,wrappingmeuplikeheownedme,hiseyeslowandsexyandcommandingallofthecamera’sattention.
Hislipswerepressedagainstmyhair.
Mychesttightened.HowhadInotnoticedthat?
ButIdidn’tfocusonitlongbeforeIwasgapingatthetextoverlaidonthescreen.
nightoutcelebratingwithmygirl
Iclickedoutofit,blinking,onlytobehitwithitinmyfeed.
ThephotohadalreadybeenpickedupbyESPN,andthey’drepostedit.
Sonofabitch.AlltheRightWebs
Maven
Ipulledmyhoodovermyheadinthebackoftheplanethenextmorning,ignoringVince,alongwiththerestoftheteam,asmyphonecontinuedtoblowup.ReyaandCamillawantedmetocallassoonasIlanded.SodidLivia.
WhenwetoucheddowninTampa,Ibolted,gettingmyownridedowntownsoIcouldmakemycallsinpeace.ButbeforeIhadthechancetocallmybestfriend,myphonebuzzedinmyhandswithmyparents’faceslightingupthescreen
ItwasaphotofromChristmastwoyearsago,allofusinpajamasandhuddledtogetherforaselfiebythetree.Dadhadtakenit,hislongarmstretchedoutandhissmilewide.Momwascurledintohisside,andIwasthereinfrontofthem,ablendofthetwohumanswhomademe.
IalwaysfeltthatIfavoredmymom—thesamegoldeyes,sameslightframe,samewarmsmile.Butmydadwasevidentinallmyfeatures,too.Oureyeswerethesameshape,wesharedthefrecklessmatteringourcheeks,andIknewIgotmyattitudesolelyfromhim.Dad’sskinwasapalewhite,thoughitturnedredwithemotion,alcohol,oreventenminutesinthesun.Mom’sskinwasadeepbrown,likethesoilofMotherEarth.AndIwasablendofthetwo.
Normally,Iwouldhavebeenansweringtheircallwithasmile,excitedtohearhowtheywereandtotellthemaboutmylife,too.
Buttoday,Iansweredwithanxietybubblinginmygut.
“Hello,”IsaidjustasIslidintothebackofacab.Iquicklytoldthedriverwhichbuildingtotakemetobeforemydad’svoicerumbledthroughthephone.
“Areyoudatingthishockeyplayer?”
Ichuckled,lettingmyheadfallbackagainsttheseatasIstaredoutthewindow.“Well,goodmorningtoyou,too,Daddy.Yes,I’mdoingwell,thankyouforasking.WhatwasitlikeinPittsburghandBaltimore?Well,theweatherwas—”
“Idon’tcareabouttheweather,”hesaid,andeventhoughhisvoicewasdeepinitsseverity,Istillsmiled.MyfatherlovedtoactlikeaprotectiveRottweilerwhenitcametome,butinreality,hewasjustateddybear.“Icareaboutthisyoungmanwithareputationwhoseemstohavebecomeverycomfortablewithmydaughter.”
“Whatyourfatheristryingtosay,”mymominterjected,hervoicesweetlikemaplesyrup.Icouldpicturehergentlyplacingahandonmyfather’sarm,couldseethedeepinhalethattouchwouldforcehimtotake.“Isthatwewantedtocheckinonyouandmakesureyou’redoingokay.”
“Andthatyou’rekeepingyourheadonstraightandrememberingthatthisisajob,”Dadadded.
Momsuckedherteeth,andItriednottobristlewithdefenseasIslidinmyearbudssoIcouldtalkhands-free.“I’mnotdatinghim,Daddy.Itwasapublicitystunt.Justgivingthepeoplesomethingtotalkabout.”
Mythroattightenedabitatthat,becauseithadbeenanunplannedstuntthatIdidnotactivelyparticipatein.Iwastryingnottoblowagasket.Mybosseswereclearlyfinewiththatphotoandtheimplicationsbehindit,butitdidn’tstopmefromfeelinglikeafool.
Anunprofessional,simperingfool.
That’showeveryoneelsewouldseeme.Iwasnolongerthewomanbehindthecamera,theoneonassignmentwithmyjobattheforefrontofmymind.Iwasnolongeracontentcreator,areporter,aforcetobereckonedwith,takingthesportsworldbystorm.
Now,Iwasajoke.
Thefactthatmyparentswerecallingmewasproofofthat.
“Somestunt,”myfathersaidonaharrumph.“Don’tletyourguarddown,Maven.Iknowhe’sahandsomeyoungman,butkeepyourwitsaboutyou.Hehasareputation,andnomatterwhathesaystoyou,he’sprobablyonlygotonethingonhismind.”
“Dad,”Ichastised.
“Wejustworry,”Momsaidsoftly,andthosewordshunginthesilencebetweenthethreeofuslikealoadedgun.
MyparentshadbeenthereformewheneverythingblewupwithJames.Theyquiteliterallyhadtopeelmeoffthefloorandconvincemethatlifewasstillworthliving,thatIneededtowalkacrossthestageatgraduation,thatlifewouldgoonwithoutJamesBaldridge.
Andmaybetheyhadarighttobeworried.
Becausehadthatstewardessnotinterruptedusontheboat,Imighthaveletallsenseleaveme.
Myskinburnedfromthememory,asifVincewerestillnakedinthewaterbehindme,hisknucklesdraggingovermyskin.Iheardhiswordsinmyear,feltmyskinpricklewithchillsjustliketheyhadlastnight.
Mystomachfluttered,butIpinchedthebridgeofmynoseandtriedtosnuffhimoutwiththemotion.
“Youdon’tneedtoworry,”Ipromisedmyparents.“Trustme—Iaminnohurrytohavemyheartsmashedagain.”Mynextswallowwasdryandpainful.“Besides,likeIsaid,itwasjustastunt.VinceandIarenothingbutprofessional.”
I’dneverliedtomyparents,andwassurprisedmyvoicedidn’tshakemorewiththatone.Becausebeinghalf-nakedinahottubwithVincerubbingmyshouldersdidnotfeelprofessional.
Iwascaughtbetweenbeingashamedandangry,withalittledashofwhydoIfeellikeIwouldgobackanddoitagainthrownin,too.
“Youtellhimtokeephishandstohimself,orhe’llhavemetoanswerto,”Dadsaid.Icouldpicturehisbrightblueeyeshardeningintotheceruleantheydidwhenhewasangry,couldpicturehimwagginghisfingeratmelikehedoesthecrewonworksites.
Ichuckled,despitefeelinglikeasenselesslittlegirl.“Iwilldothat.”
Myphonebuzzedinmylap,andwhenIglancedatthescreen,IwasalreadytellingmyparentsIneededtoendthecall.IfigureditwasReya,orLivia.
ButitwasanumberIdidn’trecognize.
Iassumeditwaslikelysomeonefromtheteamthen,sowithapromisetogetlunchsoon,Iendedthecallwithmyparentsandswitchedover.
“Hello?”
“MavenKing.”
Myentirebodyfrozeasthefamiliarvoicecroonedinmyear.
“How’sitfeeltobethehottestthingontheInternet?”
Hechuckledontheendofthatstupidfuckingquestion,butIwastoobusyremindingmyselftobreathe,toblink,tonotpassoutinthebackofacab.
“Hello?DidIloseyou?”
Isnortedalaughatthat,mysensescomingbacktomeinawhoosh.“Yes,actually.Yearsago.Whyareyoucallingme,James?”
Iglanceddownatmyphoneagain,pissedthatheclearlyhadanewnumber.I’dblockedhisoldone,makingsuresomethinglikethiscouldneverhappen.Thenagain,hewasonthePGATournow.Heprobablyhadsomefancynewphoneonsomefancyprivateplanthatthenormalpopulationdidn’thaveaccessto.Ididn’tevenknowifthatwasathing,butIdidknowthathetiedfortenthplaceatatournamentearlierthisyearandstillmadethree-hundredgrand.Inoneweekend
Ihatedmyselfforknowingthat,forthenightIdrankabottleofwineandwentdownaGooglerabbitholewithmyexasthetarget.
“Hey,easynow,”hesaid,hisvoiceasdeepandsmoothasIremembered.Icouldstillpicturehissmile,couldimaginehimholdinguphishandslikehecameinpeacerightbeforehewreckedmywholeworld.“Iwasjustthinkingofyou.It’sbeenalongtime.”
“Youwerejustthinkingofme,”Irepeated,deadpan.“Meaning,yousawthephotoVincepostedofuslastnight.”
Hebarkedoutalaughatthat.“Transparentasanicecube,aren’tI?”Helethislaughdieoff,amomentofsilencebeforeheadded,“So…isittrue,then?Areyoutwotogether?”
“Thatisnoneofyourbusiness.”
“No,”heagreed.“Ijustdidn’tpegyouforsomeonewhowouldthrowawayagreatopportunityforthechancetojumpinbedwitharookie.”
Myjawnearlyhitthefloorofthecab.
“Excuseme?”
“I’mjusttellingyoutobecareful.”
“Becareful,”Irepeated.Iactuallycouldnotbelievetheaudacityofthisman.
“Look,Iunderstandhowguyslikehimtick.Ialsoknowyou’veworkedyourassofftogetwhereyouare.”
“Don’tactlikeyouknowanythingaboutmeanymore,”Ispat.
“Ijustdon’twantyoutojeopardizeyourcareerbecausehe’sspinningalltherightwebsandsayingalltherightthings.”
“Oh,thewayyoudid?”
Thewordspoppedoutofmesoquick,Ididn’thavetimetothinkaboutwhetherIactuallywantedtosaythemornot.WhatIshouldhavedonewashangup.Butinstead,IwasstartingafightlikeIwantedit,likeIstillcaredabouthimandwhathappenedbetweenus.
Itfeltlikeshowingmyhand.
Itfeltlikelosing.
AnditmademegritmyteethsohardInearlychippedoneintheprocess.
“Ilovedyou,”Jamessaid,hisvoicejustaboveawhisper.“Youknowthat.”
“No,Idon’t,”Iclipped,fuming.“Thanksforyourconcern,butit’snolongerneeded.Youweretheonewhoexitedmylife,James,soatleasthavethedecencytostaygone.”
Ihungupbeforehecouldrespond,immediatelyblockinghisnumberjustincasehetriedtocallback.Then,Ithrewmyphoneinmypurseandletoutafrustratedgrowlthatturnedintoahigh-pitchedscream.
Mydrivereyedmeintherearviewmirror,andImutteredanapologyjustashepulleduptotheskyscraperIwascallinghomeforthemonth.Itippedhimgraciouslybeforekickingthedooropenandluggingmybagoutofthetrunk,draggingitbehindmelikeitwasaweapon,andIwasgoingintoastreetfight.
Istewedtheentirewayuptheelevator,flingingmybagintothefoyeronceI’dmadeittothecondo.Inearlycriedatthesightoftheplace—allthefurnitureandartandappliancesthatweren’tmine.Everythingwasmodernandexpensiveandcold,nothinglikemybungalowthatwasjustatwenty-minutewalkfromthebeach,andtearsprickedmyeyesbeforeangerwashedthemawayagain.
Iroared,kickingoffmyshoesandpacingasIdraggedmyhandsovermyhair.Iwassofuckingpissed—atmyparents,atJames,atVince,atmyself.Onenight.Onestupidphotoandeverythingwasblowntoshit.
AndIknewinthatmomentwhatIshouldhavedone.
Ishouldhavegoneforawalk.Ishouldhavegonetothebeach.Ishouldhaverolledoutmyyogamatandfoundposestogroundmyself.Ishouldhavemeditated.IshouldhavecalledLivia.
Ishouldhavedoneamillionotherthings.
ButwhatIactuallydidwaspickupmyphoneandopenInstagram.
BecauseIdidn’twanttocalmdown.
Iwantedtorage.
Iwantedpayback
AndIdidn’tstoptothinkabouttherepercussionsuntilitwastoolate.SuchaLittleBrat
Vince
CoachMcCabelookedreadytoblowagasket.
Heremindedmealittleofmyfatherinthatmoment,thewaymydadwouldholdinhisangeruntilhecouldgotothegymorgetoutontheboat.Heneverwanteduskidstoseeitorbeonthereceivingendofit.Ilovedandadmiredhimforthat,howhecouldbottleitupandfindtheproperrelease.
Coach,ontheotherhand,wasreadytounleash—andIwashistarget.
“Look,it’snotahugedeal,”Dicksaid,mygeneralmanagermuchcalmerthanthered-facedmanstandingagainsthisofficewindow.Coachcouldbarelylookatmewithoutseething.“Itpulledinsomegoodpublicityforyouandfortheteam,anditwasakindthingtodo.But—”
“Butit’sagainstyourfuckingcontract,”Coachfilledinforhim,noseflaring.“Whatthehellwereyouthinking,Tanev?”
Iswallowed,knowingthatwasn’taquestionhewantedmetoanswer.Iwasexpectedtositthereandtakemylashinglikeagoodboy,andIwascontenttodojustthat.
Butangersimmeredinme,too.
BecauseItoldMavennottofuckingpostaboutthatday.
Ourawaygameshadgonejusthowwewantedthemto.Wewereonafive-winstreakandbackinourcitytotrytomakeitsix.Yesterdaywasahungoverflighthomeformostoftheguys,andwespenttherestofthedayrecovering.Ihadn’tseenMaven,otherthanwhereshewasalreadysleepingwhenIboardedtheplane.Shewasintheback,hoodieon,pillowagainstthewindow,andheadphonescoveringherears.
WhenwegotbacktoTampa,shemutteredsomethingaboutseeingmelaterbeforeshedisappeared.Ihadnoideawhereshe’dgone,andIhatedtoadmithowmuchImissedhavingheraround—especiallysinceIwantedhertotalktomeaboutwhathappenedthenightbefore.
Shewassogoddamnstubborn,itinfuriatedmeasmuchasitmademewanthermore.
Thismorning,whenI’dshownuptopractice,I’dnosoonerlacedmyskatesupbeforeCoachwaspointingattheelevator.Wordlessly,Ifollowedhim,andwhenhehitthebuttonfortheexecutivefloorandhandedmehisphonewithhisjawclenched,IknewIwasintrouble.
MavenhadpostedavideoofmeattherinkinPittsburghwithBobbyandhiskids.
IonlywatchedafewsecondsofitbeforeIhandedthephoneback,knowingmyasswasgrass.
“Oh,comenow,McCabe,”Dicksaid,leaningbackinhischairwiththatjovialgrinofhis.“Theboyisfine.”
“Hecouldhavegottenhimselfhurt.Beforeagame.”
“Buthedidn’t.”
ThewayDicksaidthosewordstoldmehewantedCoachtobackoff,andthewayCoachfumedtoldmethatwasthelastthingheplannedtodo.
“I’msorry,”Isaidtobothofthem,andImeantit.“Ineededtoclearmyhead,andIknewmybuddyfromMichiganwascoachingatthatrink.Ipromise,Ididn’tdoanythingthatwouldhaveputmeatrisk.”
“Beingontheiceperiodputyouatrisk,”Coachargued.“Youweren’tevenwearingamask.Whatifyougotapucktothejaw?Whatifoneofthosekidswantedtoprovehewasbigandbadandshovedyouintotheboards?Whatifyoupulledafuckinghamstring?Anythingcouldhavehappened.Andthenwhat?Youwouldhavebeenoutofthegame.Andwhatwouldyouhavetoldyourteammates?”
“Alright,hesaidhewassorry,”Dicksaid,holdingouthishands.
Coachletoutahotexhalethroughhisnose,runninghishandsthroughhishairandturningawayfromme.I’dneverseenhimsopissed,butIknewwithouthimsayingsothathewaslessmadandmorescared.
Hedidn’twanttohavetofigureouthowtowinagamewithoutmeontheice.
Dickpointedatmenext.“Letthisbeaone-timething,okay?Itwasanicegesture,andI’msurethoseboyswillrememberthatdayfortherestoftheirlives.ButCoachisright.Wecan’taffordtoloseyou,son.”
Inodded.“Understood.”
Coachdidn’ttalktometherestofpractice.Hehammeredmyass,though,andmadesureIwassweatingandsoreashellbythetimehecalleditfortheday.
Andwhereheignoredme,IignoredMaven.
Shewasthere,justlikeshehadbeenthelasttwoweeks,recordingfromthesidelines.Whenweweredismissed,Ididn’twaitforherasIshovedthroughthedoorsthatledfromthestadiumintodowntown.Iwalkedwithmyheadphoneson,dufflebagslungoveroneshoulder,ignoringeveryonewhowalkedpastmeandrecognizedwhoIwas.Afewofthemsnappedphotos,othersjustpointedandsmiledandcalledoutmyname.Thebestofthemleftmealonealtogether.
I’dnosoonermadeithomeandstartedmyshowerbeforeIheardaknockatmydoor.
Mavendidn’tlookscaredwhenIswungitopen,staringdownatherwithmyjawset.Infact,shefoldedherarmsandliftedherchinindefiance.
“Badday?”
“Whatthehelliswrongwithyou?”
“Me?”Shebalked,catchingthedoorbeforeitcouldshutwhenIletgoofit.Iheadedbacktowardmybedroom,towhereIhadtheshowergoing.“Whatiswrongwithyou?!”
“YoupostedthatvideowhenItoldyou,Itoldyounotto.”Ispuntofaceherinthehallway,thesoundoftheshowerservingaswhitenoisebehindourscreams.“Butyoudiditanyway.Becauseyou’reMavenKingandyoujustdowhateveryouwant.”
Shescoffed.“Incaseyouforgot,youagreedtothis.”
“Oh,mybad.IthoughtwhenIspecificallyaskedyounottopostsomething,you’dlisten.Didn’tyoutellmethatinthebeginning?ThatifIwantedanythingofftherecord,allIhadtodowassayso?”
Ididn’tknowwhyItookthatexactmomenttotakeherin,toreallylookather.Hereyeswereastiredasmine,andyetstill,shewasglowing—herskinfreshandsmooth,herhaircurlyandheldoffherfacebyacolorfulbandanatiedatthecrownofherhead.Sheworeherclassicsilverhoopearrings,awhitet-shirtthatfitherperfectly,andapairoflight-washedjeansthatfitevenbetter.
EvenwhenIwaspissedather,Iwantedher.
“Thisisagoodthing,”shesaidafteramoment—butitfeltlikeshewastryingtodefendherselfmorethanconvinceme.“Everynewsoutletinthecityhaspickedupthestory,alongwithsomeofthenationalstations.You’rewelcomeforthegreatpublicity.”
“DiditeveroccurtoyouthatIwasn’tsupposedtobethere?”
Sheblinked.
“Yeah.It’sagainstmycontract.I’mnotsupposedtoplayanykindofsportordoanythingthatcanputmeormybodyindangerduringtheseason.Ican’tsomuchasswingagolfclubwithoutriskingmyjob.”
Thecolordrainedfromherthen,andIknewIhadher.
“CoachMcCabefilletedmyasstoday.”
“Okay,well…”Shestammered,thenstoodtallagain.“Well,youletthekidstakepictures,whichI’msuretheyposted.Sowhat’sthedifference?”
“Thedifferenceisthatinthosephotos,Iwasn’tskatingonthefuckingrink,Maven!”Iscrubbedahandovermyjaw.“Sorry,Ididn’tmeantoyell.Butthereisadifferencebetweenmejusthangingoutwithsomekidsplayinghockey,asopposedtoplayingalongwiththem.AndCoachispissed.”
Mavenhadthedecencytoshrinkabitatthat,butthenshesquaredhershoulders.“Yeah,well,Iguesswe’reeventhen.”
“Howthehelldoyoufigurethat?”
“Thepicture?Youkissingmyhair?Mygirl?”
Asmilecurledonmylips,thatangerIhadbeforeebbingabit.“What,notreadytoadmitthatyet?Becauselet’sfaceit.It’strue.”
Sheshovedme,hard.Herhandsfoundmychestandpresseduntilmybackhitthewall.Iletherthinkshehadthatpower,thatshecouldmovemysix-foot-onebrickofabodywithherslightone.
“Thisismycareer,”sheseethed.
“Andthisismine,”Iargued.“So,you’reright.Iguessweareeven.”
“It’snotthesame.YougotaslaponthewristandsomedamngoodPR.Doyourealizehowunprofessionalthatphotolookedforme?”
“Areyourbossesmad?”
Hermouthwasstillopen,readytofirehernextargument,butitsnappedcloseatmyquestion.
Ilaughed,shakingmyhead,andthenIpushedoffthewall.
“You,”Isaid,movingslowly,stepbysteptowardherasshematchedmypacewalkingbackwardtheotherway.Whenherbackhitthewall,Ienvelopedher,revelinginthelittlegaspsheelicitedwhenmyhandfoundherthroat.“Aresuchalittlebrat.”
Iwaitedforhertoslapme.
Butshejustswallowed,themovementvibratingundermypalm,hereyeslockedonmine.
“You’resousedtogettingeverythingyouwant.”Itiltedmyhead.“Well,almosteverything.”
“What’sthatsupposedtomean?”
Idraggedthetipofmynosealongthebridgeofhers,smiling.“Youwantme.”
Hernextbreathshudderedoutofher,hereyelidsfluttering.
“Youareseriouslyderanged.”
Thewordswereabreathlesslie,thewarmthfromthemsweetlikevanillaonmynose.Isqueezedherthroatalittletighter,hereyesdilatingasmyfreehandslidoverherhip.Itraileditup,thebackofmyknucklesslowlyskatingoverherwaist,herribs,alongtheswellofherbreast.Ibrushedagainstwherehernipplewaspulledtightbeforeflatteningmyhandandpressingitagainstherchest.
“Yourheartisabouttopoundoutofyourchest,”Isaid,voicelowandtaunting.IsworeIfeltherheartstutterundermypalm.“Whydoyoufightit?”
Sheswallowed,hereyesflickingtomylips.
Then,shepushedmebackwithwhateversemblanceofcontrolshewasstillholdingfastto,peelingmyhandsoffherandstormingdownthehall.
“There’snothingtofight,”shesaidoverhershoulder.
Istoodthereinthehallwayuntilsherippedmyfrontdooropen.
“I’mnotyourgirl,VinceTanev.”Sheturnedtopinmewithhergaze,moredeterminationthaneverbeforeetchedintoherfeatures.“Allowmetoprovethattoyou.”Backfire
Maven
“ThisishotterthantheSkinemaxmoviesmyAuntRosieusedtowatch,”Liviasaid,fanningherselfassheleanedbackinherchair.“Imean,usuallyI’mmoreintobeingthedomineeringone,”sheadded,tiltingherheadsidetoside.“Buttoeachtheirown.”
“It’snothot.It’smaddening,”Itoldher,takinganangrysipfrommycocktail.WehadescapedthechaosofourTuesdayforalongoverduebestielunchataspotnearthestadium.Vincewasinafilmmeetingwiththeteamforatleastanotherhour,whichmeanttherewasnothingtopostabout.
“Youareashitliar.”
“Hepostedaphotoofus,”Ibarkedather.“Andcalledmehisgirl.”
“Oh,no!”Liviagasped,sittingupstraighterandpressingherhandtoherchestlikeshewasappalled.“Whatajerk,likingyousomuchhewantstoclaimyou.Andtobehotandrich,too?Withanicecock?God,Idon’tknowhowyou’resurviving.”
ShesatbackwitharollofhereyesasIflickedheroff,lookingaroundtomakesurenoneoftheotherdinerswereshockedbymybestfriend’scasualuseofthewordcock.
“Don’tactlikeyouwouldn’tbejustasupset.”
“Yeah,well,that’sdifferent.Idon’tdatehockeyplayers.”
“Becauseyou’retoobusymakingthemwritheinpainonyourtable?”
“Exactly,”shesaid,pointingatmebeforeshesippedhermartini.“Andbecausethey’renevertherightcandidatesforwhatIlikeinthebedroom.”
Ismirkedatthat.“Kinkybitch.”
“You’rejustmadI’mnotyourdom.”
“Agirlcandream.”
Liviasmiled,shakingherhead.“Stoptryingtoflattermeandgetbacktothepointathand.Why,exactly,areyousoupset?Youthinkhe’shot,right?”
“Well,I’mhuman,soyes.”
“Andhe’scool,he’sfun,youliketobearoundhim.”
“Iguess,but—”
“Sowhatistheproblem?”
“He’sahockeyplayer!”Isaid,exasperated,myhandsjuttingtowardher.“Justlikeyousaid.He’saplayer.Period.I’veliterallyseenhimsandwichedbetweentwowomeninacrowdofpeople.IfIwasn’tthere,hewouldhavetakenthembothhome.”
“Butyouwerethere,”Liviasaid.
Andthatwasit.
Thatwasherwholeargument.
Ihadbeenthere,andsoVincehadleftthosegirlsdancingbythemselvesinthebar—alltochaseafterme.
Isighed,shakingmyheadasIsatbackanddrainedmycocktail.Ididn’tcarethatitwaslunchandIhadmoreworktodo.Iorderedanotherone.Myheartwasthumpinginmyears,apanicattackrising.
“AreReyaandCamillamad?”
“No,”Isaidonalaugh.“They’retickledpink.Butthatdoesn’tmakeitanylessprofessional.Imean,let’sbehonest,Livia—howmanypeoplearegoingtothinkIonlygotthisgigbecauseVinceTanevwantstofuckmenow?HowmanypeoplearegoingtosaythatIwaslucky,thatIgotpluckedfromthecrowdoffemalesdesperateforhisattention?”Ipaused,myvoicesofterwhenIadded,“Youshouldseethecommentsalready.They’reawful.”
“WhogivesafuckwhatanyoneontheInternetthinksorsays?”
“It’smycareer,”Isaid.“Ijust…Idon’twantthistobewhatI’mrememberedfor.Andbesides,evenifIdidentertainwhateveritishe’soffering.WhichI’mnot,”Iaddedpointedly.“He’saplayboy,Liv.Hecanhavewhoeveranddowhateverhewants.WhatdoIhonestlyexpect?”
Livia’seyessoftenedinunderstanding.“ThisisaboutJames.”
Iblinked,thatpanicthathadbeensimmeringunderthesurfaceboilingovernow.
“No,”Isaid,buttheadmissionwassoweaknotevenIbelievedit.
“Oh,babe.”Livialeanedforward,wrappingherhandaroundmywristonthetablewithagentlesqueeze.“VinceisnotJames.”
“He’snotthatmuchdifferent.”
ThatmadeLiviaquiet,likeshewantedtoarguebutwasn’tsureshehadalegtostandon.BecausejustlikeVince,Jameshadbeenanathlete.JustlikeVince,Jameshadbeencharming,andmagnetic,andeasytofallfor.AndjustlikeVince,Jameswasrich,fromanaffluentfamily,withcertainexpectationsofwhoheshouldbewith.
“Hecalledme.”
“Who?”
IflattenedmylipswhenIlookedather,butitwasactualsurpriseonherfacewhenshedamnnearchokedonhercocktail.
“James?How?Didn’tyoublockhisnumber?”
“Hegotanewone,”Isaidflatly.“Don’tworry—Iblockedit,too.Butnotbeforeherattledmeandgavemehisunwarrantedadvice.”
“Hewhatnow?”
Isatupstraighter,usingmystrawwrappertomakeamustacheliketheoneJamessportednow.Then,inmybestimpression,Isaid,“Look,Iunderstandhowguyslikehimtick.Ialsoknowyou’veworkedyourassofftogetwhereyouare.”
“Nohedidnot—”
“Ijustdon’twantyoutojeopardizeyourcareerbecausehe’sspinningalltherightwebsandsayingalltherightthings.”
Justlikeminehad,Livia’sjawhitthetable,andsheslowblinkedtwicebeforelettingoutamenacinglaugh.Shedabbedthecornersofhermouthwithhernapkinbeforetossingitonthetable.“Alright.That’sit.Ihopethatprickisenjoyingbreathingtoday,becausehewon’tbesoon.”
SheactedlikeshewasabouttostandandgofindJames,likeshewasmyknightinshiningarmor.Itriedtolaugh,butitfellflat,andLiviafrownedbeforereachingacrossthetabletosqueezemyarmagain.
“I’msorry,”shesaid.
Ididn’tletmyselfoverthinkitbeforeIwasblowingabreaththroughmylips,shakingthewholethingoff.“Whatever.Itdoesn’tmatter.Butinaway,itwasagoodreminderofwhatIalreadyknewtobetrue.”
Livia’slipspulledtotheside,butshedidn’targue.
“AndI’mgoingtoshowVincethat,despitehimignoringmeeverytimeI’vetoldhim,thisisaprofessionalrelationship.”
“Oh,yeah?”
Inodded,smilingwickedlyasIsatbackandsippedmymartini.“Ihaveadate.Tonight.”
“Adate?”Liviaalmostlaughed.“Withwho?”
Iwavedheroff.“Idon’tknow.Someguyfromtheapps.Iswipedrightafewtimesandgotamatch.”
“Letmegetthisstraight.Yourplanistogoonadatewithanotherman,presumablylethimpickyouupatthecondowhereyou’recurrentlystaying,andforthattosomehowmakeVinceTanevrealizeyou’reofflimits?”
“Yes.”
“Youthink,”shesaid,slowernow,likeIwasn’tunderstanding.“He’llseeyouleavewiththisguyandtakethehint,thathe’llleaveyoualoneandthinktohimself,‘Well,Iguessthat’sthat.Mavenisclearlytakenandnotatallinterestedinme?’”
“Exactly.”
Thistime,shedidlaugh,shakingherheadasshepluckedtheoliveoutofhermartiniandpoppeditintohermouth.“Oh,honey,”shesaid.“Thisisgoingtobackfirerightinthatprettyfaceofyours.”ThisFuckingDress
Vince
“Man,I’mstarving,”Cartersaid,rubbinghisstomachlikeanoldmanwaitingforThanksgivingdinner.“IfeellikeIcouldeatawholecow.”
“Maybeifyoudid,you’dbeabletohitthepuckbetter,”Jaxsonsaid,pinchingCarter’sbicepswithhisfingertips.“Thatwimpyshotyoumadeinourscrimmagetodayisgoingtoreverberateinmynightmares.”
“Fuckoff.Itwasbardown.”
“Itwouldhaveactuallyhadtogointhenettobebardown,”Willgrumped.“Notdoinkedofflikeamissedfieldgoal.”
“Itwentinandyouknowit,DaddyP.Youjustdon’twanttoadmitthisrookiescoredonyou.”
“That’sbecauseyoudidn’t,Fabio.Andyouneverwill.”
CarterandWillwerestillhorsingaroundwhenwepushedthroughthefrontdooroftherestaurant.Wewereimmediatelygreetedbyfiveemployeesatthehostessstand,allofthemeagertowelcomeusandseeustoourtable.ThereweremoreeyesonWillthantherestofus,mostlybecauseDaddyPdidn’tmakepublicappearancesoften.Hewasusuallyhomewithhiskid,wherehelovedtobe.Iwasgladwe’dmanagedtopullhimoutforanevening,evenifjustfordinner.
Butthatwasn’tmysolefocusoftheevening.
“Yougood?”Jaxsonaskedme,pullingbehindabittowalkatmyside.
“Peachy.”
“That’sconvincing,”hesaidonalaugh,andthenhenarrowedhiseyeswhenhesawmesearchingtheplaceaswewerewalkedthroughtherestauranttoabackroom.“Whoareyoulookingfor?”
Ididn’tanswerhim,butwhenIspottedMavenandherdateatatablebythewindow,Istoppeddeadinmytracks.
Shewassogorgeousithurt.
Heronyxhairwasblownoutinasoft,wavystylethatremindedmeofthenightwespenttogetherinBaltimore,herwarmbrownskinglowinginthecandlelight.Theglossonherlipswasalmostasenticingastheheelsstrappedtoherdelicateankles,andevenfromadistance,Icouldseetheslitinhervelvetbluedress,couldtracethelinesofherlegsthatitrevealedbeneaththetable.
Iwasn’tsurehowlongIstoodandstaredbeforeJaxson’slaughcutthroughthehaze.
“Youslydog,”hesaid,shakinghisheadasheclappedmeontheshoulder.“Sheknowyou’rehere?”
“Notyet.”
Helaughedagain.“I’llwriteagoodeulogyforyourfuneral.”
Heleftmethen,followingtherestoftheguystoourtableasIstayedrootedinplace.Afewtablesofdinersbegantorecognizeme,thechattergettinglouder,andMavenmusthavepickeduponit.Becauseshewasinthemiddleofabeautiful,sing-songlaughthatfloatedthroughtherestaurantandrighttomyearswhenshepaused,turningtowardthenoise.
Hermouthwentslackatthesightofme.
Foramoment,Ijuststoodthereandstaredather,myhearthammeringinmychest.Acockysmileslidonmylipseasily,withoutmepromptingit,likeitwasmynaturalstateofbeing.Then,Islidmyhandsintomypocketsandwinkedatherbeforeturningandheadinginthedirectionofourtable.
Ididn’tsayawordwhenIsatdown,lettingtherestoftheguyscarrytheconversation.Jaxsonwaswatchingmewithacuriouslookoverhismenu,though—especiallyasmygazestayedfixedonMavenacrosstherestaurant.Shewasdoingherbesttoignoreme,butwhenhereyeswouldflicktomine,Iwouldalwayssmile.
Andshewouldalwaysglare.
Itwasagoodthinglookscouldn’tactuallykill,becauseIwasprettysuremylifewouldbeover.
Showingupherewasaboldmove.IknewasmuchwhenIdecidedtomakeit.Mavenhadpolitelytoldmeafterpracticethatshewouldn’tbearoundthisevening,andwhenIaskedherwhy,shehidashytingeofhercheekswithherhairwhenshesaid,“Ihaveadate.”
Fourwords.
Fourwordswasallittooktomakemybloodboilandmybrainceasetohaveanycommonsenseorrationality.
I’dpretendedtobecoolaboutit,shruggingandtellinghertohavefun.ButassoonasI’dshutthedoortomyplace,I’dcalledLivia.
“Tellmewherehe’stakingher,”I’dsaidwhensheanswered.
She’dlaughed,andIwasalmostcertainshewasn’tgoingtotellme.Butthen,afteralongpause,she’dasked,“Youreallylikeher,don’tyou?”
Ihadn’tbeenabletorespond.
“You’vegotalongroadaheadofyoutoearnhertrust,”she’dwarnedme,andwhenIdidn’tbackdown,she’dgivenmethenameoftherestaurant.
Somethingaboutthatfueledmeevenmore.Liviawasherbestfriend,andifshe’dwillinglytoldmethelocationofMaven’sdate,thatsaidloudandcleareverythingIneededtohear.IfMavenreallyhatedme,ifshereallydidn’twantme,Liviawouldhavetoldmetoleaveheralone,tokickrocks,tobackthehelloff.
Instead,she’dhandedmeaninvitation.
Iwasn’tgoingtowasteit.
Afterweplacedourorder,Iexcusedmyselffromthetable.ButinsteadofgoingtotherestroomlikeI’dsaidIwas,IstrolledrightovertoMaven’stable.
HereyesnearlybulgedoutofherskullasIapproached,andshesmiledatherdatewhiletryingtosubtlyshakeherheadatme.
Donotcomeoverhere,thoseeyessaid.
ButIwasonamission,andIwasn’tbackingdownnow.
WhenIdidn’trelent,shegrittedherteeth,scratchingthebackofherneckwithonefingernailandavoidingeyecontactuntilshehadnochoice.
BecauseIwasrightthere,standingathertablewithasmileofmyown.
“Holyshit,”herdatesaid,beamingupatme.“You’reVinceTanev!”
Hischairmadeahorriblesoundscrapingagainstthefloorashestoodinahurry,takingmyhandinhisandshakingalittletooaggressively.
“It’samazingtomeetyou,man.You’vereallyputTampabackonthemap.”HelookedatMaven,hookinghisthumbtowardme.“Didyoudothis?Isthisasurpriseforme?Becauseifso,youjustwontheawardforbestfirstdate.”
“Shedid,infact,”Isaid,smilingatMavenasshesetherjawandfoldedherarmsoverherstomach.Iturnedbacktoherdate.“ButIdidn’trealizethiswasyourfirstdate.Wow.Mavenmadeitsoundlikeyoutwohadreallyhititoff.”
Mavenrolledhereyes.
“Youmustreallybeacatch…”
“Damon,”hesaid.
“Damon,”Irepeated.Then,Iunfastenedthebuttononmysportscoatandpointedtotheemptychairatthetablebehindhim.“MindifIsitforabit?”
“Please!”hesaidatthesametimeMavenmuttered,“Yes,wemind.”
Damonlookedatherwithastrangeexpressionbeforelaughingandpullingupthechairforme.
BeforeIcoulddoanythingelse,acoupleguysinterruptedandaskedforaphotoandautograph.Iscribbledoneoutquickly,smilingforthepicture,andthenIsatrightbetweenMavenandherdate.
“Maven,”Isaid,finallygreetingherproperly.Iletmyeyesrakeoverher,fullyappreciatingthebluevelvetdressupclose.“Youlookbeautiful.”
Sheblinkedatme,herjawclenched.
“So,Damon.Whatisityoudo?”Iasked,decliningthewaitresswhensheofferedmesomethingtodrink.
“I’minrealestate.”
“Fascinating,”Imocked,leaningmychinontheheelofmyhand.“Isn’tthatfascinating,Maven?”
Shesmiled,dabbingatthecornersofherlipswithhernapkindaintilybeforeshefoldeditbesideherplate.“Itis.Ifyou’llexcuseme,”shesaid,andthenshegotupfromthetableascalmlyasshecould.
Ididn’thavetolookatherovermyshouldertoknowsheexpectedmetofollow.
Ientertainedherdateforamomentlonger,mostlylisteningtohimtellmewhatahugefanhewasoftheteam,andhowhehadbeenforyears—evenwhenwesucked.HetookfulladvantageofMavenbeingawayfromthetable,sheepishlyaskingmeifhecouldhavemyautographandaphotobeforeshereturned.Itoldhimweshouldwait,thatshe’dwanttobeinthepicture.
BecausefatchanceinhellwasIgivingthisguyanythingwhenhewasherewithmygirl.
Then,ItoldhimIneededtogetbacktomytable,butI’dstopbylater.
AndIfollowedthetrailMavenhadmadetowardthebathrooms.
Itsmelledofsmoke,likeshe’dburnedtheentireway.
Thereweretwobathrooms,eachgenderneutralwithonestallinside.Onewasempty,andonewaslocked.Iknockedonlytwice,softly,beforethedoorwasrippedopenandahandjuttedout,grabbingmebythecollarandyankingmeinside.
“Wow,really?Here,Maven?”Iteasedwhensheslammedthedoorshutagain,lockingitandpressingherbacktothemetal.“It’skindofkinky,buthey,whoamItodenyyourfantasies…”
Itooktwostepstowardher,andthenshepokedmehardintheribs.
Itwouldhavehurt,hadIbeenamanofsmallermeans.Asitwas,Ilaughed,whichmadeherwinduplikeshewasgoingtosockmeinthejaw.Icaughtherfist,holdingitinmyhandasIbackedherintothesink.
“Whatareyoudoinghere?!”sheseethed,shakingfreeofmyhold.Shekeptahandonmychest,forcingafootbetweenus.
“Ithoughtitwasquiteobvious.”
“You,”shesaid,pokingmeinthechestwithonelongnail.“Aresuchaprick.Iamonadate,Vince.Gotoyourtableandleaveusalone.”
“Isthisyoutryingtoproveit,asyousoeloquentlystatedyesterday?”
“It’snotmetryingtodoanything.Iamdating.Otherpeople—notyou.”
Iinhaledastiffbreath,themuscleinmyjawlockingatthatstatement.Istaredbackather,myfire-breathinggirl,butthenmyeyesweretravelingdownagain.
“I’msorry,”Isaid.“Couldyourepeatthat?BecauseI’mhavingahardtimefocusingwithyouinthisfuckingdress.”
Mavenflushed,butthenletoutan,“Ugh!”Shepressedintomyspace,theuniverseansweringmyprayersasshedid.“You’reexhausting.”
“Oh,sothat’sit.Itallmakessensenow.”
Shefrowned,confused.
“You’retired,”Isaid.“That’swhyyoucan’topenyoureyesandseethetruth.”
“Whattruth?”
“ThatIwantyou,”Isaid,andIpressedrightback,myhandsfindingherhipsandpinninghertothebathroomsink.Eventhen,Ipushedinfarther,mynosecentimetersfromhers.“Iwantyousobadly,Maven.Ilikeyou,goddamnit.”
Sheswallowed,attemptingtowrigglefree,butIheldhertighter.
“No,”Isaid,shakingmyheadasmyforeheadfelltohers.“Don’t.Don’tmakeajoke.Don’tdenyit.Youwantme,too.”
Sheturnedherface,mylipsfallingagainsthertempleassheswallowedagainandlookedawayfromme.
“Admitit,”Ipleaded.
Alongpausesettledbetweenus,theaircharged,waitingforonetinysparkthatwouldengulfusbothinflames.
“You’reaplayboy,Vince,”shebreathed,justawhisper,butthewordsstruckmeasifshe’dyelledthem.Ipulledback,andhereyesfoundmine.“YouonlywantmebecauseIhaven’tletyouhaveme.”
Ishookmyhead,browsfoldingtogether.“You…youdon’thonestlybelievethat.”Ilaughed,sureitwasajoke.Whenshedidn’tprodmefurther,thatsmilefell,mythroattight.“Tellmeyoudon’tseemethatway.”
Butshedidn’t.
Shedidn’tansweratall.
Hereyesflickereddowntohershoes,andshekepthergazethereasIslowlybackedaway,releasingher.
Thiswasthepersona,theoneIplayedintowitheveryoneelse.Butwithher?I’dletherin.I’dshownherpartsofmetherestoftheworldhadneverseenbefore.Iwasnothingbuthonestwithher,rightfromthestart.
Iletherseeme.
Andyetallshesawwasaplayer.
Inodded.Againandagain,laughingalittleasIscrubbedahandovermymouth.
AndthenIleft.
Thebathroom,therestaurant,andher.NoOneButMe
Maven
Ibailedonmydatebeforehehadthechancetoorderdessert.
MyemotionsweresotangledupIcouldbarelyholddownwhatIhadeaten,letaloneconsumeanythingmore.So,withapolitekissonthecheekandahug,IpartedwayswithDamonandheadedhome.
Home
Thatmademelaugh.
ThefullyfurnishedcondoIwasstayinginwithgiantwindows,asweepingcitylandscape,andabedfartoobigforonlymecouldhardlybeconsideredhome.Itwasmyclothesintheprovideddresser,andmytoiletriesinthebathroom,andmyusualfoodinthefridge.Butitwasn’tmysmallbungalownearthebeach.Itwasn’tmygardenormymacraméwallartormycompostreadytobeputtogooduse.
Still,itdidbringmeasmallcomfort,andIsighedwhenIkickedmyheelsoffonceIwasinside.
Ipouredaglassofwine,whichIwasn’tentirelysureIwouldn’tregretinthemorning.Wehadagamethenextday,andthatmeantI’dbeupearlyreportingonallofit.Myheadwasalreadypoundingfromthenight’sevents.
Butnotasmuchasmyheart.
Whatwasevenhappening?
Isankintooneoftheleatherarmchairsinmylivingroom,crossingmylegsandattemptingtorelax.ButIdidn’tsitthereformorethansixtysecondsbeforemythoughtsstartedwhirring,andIcouldn’tmakesenseofasingleoneofthem.
Iwantedtofeelvictorious,tobaskintheglowofhavingsucceededinwhatI’dhadplannedfortheevening.
ButthelookonVince’sface,thewayhe’dtonguedhischeekandnoddedlikeI’ddisappointedhim…
Itleftmefeelingsick.
BeforeIknewit,Iwasupandoutoftheroom,outofmynewhome,takingtheelevatorupafewfloorsandwalkingbarefootdownthehalltoVince’sdoor.
Iknockedhardthreetimes,knockingagainwhenhedidn’timmediatelyanswer.Ididn’tevenknowwhatIwasdoing.Ididn’tknowwhatIwouldsay.DidIstillwanttofight?DidIwanttoapologize?
DidIwanttofuck?
Iknockedagain.
Whenhedidn’tanswer,anditwassuspiciouslyquietinside,myheartleaptintomythroat.Iimmediatelywonderedifhe’dgoneout,foundsomeone,andgonehomewithher.
Then,Iimmediatelychastisedmyselfforcaring,becausethewholepointoftonightwastocementhownothisIwas,andyet…
“He’satthegym.”
Ijumpedattheunexpectedvoice,alittlescreamslippingfrommylips.WhenIturnedandfoundJaxsonattheoppositeendofthehall,Isighed.
“Jesus,youscaredme.Youlivehere,too?”
“Nah,justdroppedsomethingoffatCarter’s,”heexplained.Then,herepeatedhisearliersentiment.“Vincewenttothegym,theteamoneatthearena.Thirdfloor.”
Inodded,swallowing.“Isheokay?”
“Whywouldn’thebe?”
Jaxsonarchedabrow,givingmeapointedlooklikehewantedmetoconfesssomething.WhenIdidn’t,hesalutedmebeforedisappearinginsidetheelevator.
Istilldidn’tknowwhatIwasdoingasIwentbacktomyplace,threwonapairofsneakers,andheadedforthelobby.ThoseNikeslookedridiculouswiththedressIwaswearingandmyfullfaceofmakeup,hairblownoutandstyled,butIdidn’tcare.
Ialsowasn’tthinkingstraight,asevidentbythefactthatIwasonmywaytothearenainthemiddleofthenighttofindtheguyIhadworkedsohardtogetoffmyassinthefirstplace.
Thewalkwasquick,thearenajustacoupleblocksfromthecondominium.ItwasdarkandquietatthearenawhenIarrived,andIwassurprisedwhenthekeycardthey’dgivenmeallowedmeaccessinatall.Itwasalmosteerie,walkingthroughtherewithjustafewlightson.Therewassomeonecleaningthefloors,andtheynoddedatmeasIpassed,butdidn’tbothertoaskwhoIwasorwhyIwasthere.IguesstheyassumedthatifIhadakeytogetin,itwasfine.
MyhandsshookasItooktheelevatoruptothethirdfloor,whichwaswheretheexecutivesuitewas.IwanderedaroundabitaimlesslybeforeIfinallymademywaytotheteamgym,andwhenIdid,Istopped,watchingVincethroughthewindow.
Hewastheonlyoneinthere.Hell,wehadtobetwoofonlyahandfulofpeoplehereatthishour.Therewerenoconcertstonight,noeventsatall,anditwasdamnnearmidnight.
Foramoment,Iletmyselfwatchhim,takinginthegleamingmusclesofhisbackashepedaledonthebike.Hispowerfulthighsworkedashardastheydidontheice,hisarmsflexingwheretheyheldthehandlebars.Hewasanabsolutemachine—steadfastandfocused.
Hewasdrippinginsweat,watchinghimselfinthemirrorlikehehatedthepersonhesaw.
Then,thoseeyesflickedtome.
Iswallowed,usingmykeycardandagainsurprisedthatitgrantedmeaccesstojoinhim.Hedidn’tslowhispace,though.Justkepthiseyesonthemirrorandpedaledevenfaster.
Hewasn’twearingheadphones,andthegymwascompletelyquiet,saveforthesoundofhislaboredbreathsandthewhirofthebike.
“Ididn’tknowtheteamgymwasopentwenty-fourseven,”Isaidinwayofgreeting,foldingmyarmsandlookingaroundatalltheequipment.Irememberedspendinghisfirstdayoffhere,watchinghimgothroughhisroutinewiththerestoftheguysbeforeworkingonrecovery.
Vinceignoredme.
“I’msurprisedtofindyouhere,especiallythenightbeforeagame,”Icontinued.“Figuredyou’dberesting.”
Hiswatchmadeabuzzingnoise,andheslowedhispace,sittinguprightandhittingabuttononthesideofit.Then,hegrabbedthewhitetowelhangingoverthebarsandmoppedthesweatoffhisface.
Hestilldidn’tsayaword.
Imovedcloser.“Look,aboutearlier…”Ipaused,becauseIdidn’tknowexactlywhatIwantedtosay.“I…I’msorry,okay?IfI…”Ilaughedalittlebeforefinishingthatsentencewithhurtyourfeelings,becauseIwascertainVinceTanevdidn’thavethecapabilityofhavinghisfeelingshurt.
Heslowedallthewaytoastop,hoppingoffthebikeanddrapingthewhitetowelaroundhisneck.Hegrabbedawipenext,cleaningthebikeseat.
Then,hestroderightpastmeonthewaytowardtheexit.
AvoiceinthebackofmymindtoldmeIshouldapologize.No,iturgedmetogrovel,toadmitIwaswrongandimmatureforplayingwhateverstupidgameIhadbeenplayingattherestaurant.Ishouldn’thavesaidwhatI’dsaid.
ButIdid,becauseIhadto.Ineededto.Itwastheonlywaytoprotectmyself.
Everythingwassuchamessinsideme,twoopposingforcesbattlingfordominance.Ontheonehand,Iwantedtogivein,tothrowmyselfatthisman’sfeet.Ontheother,Iwantedtofight.
Itwasthaturgethatwonout.
“Wow,”Isaid,turningtofacehimandwatchhimgo.“Cool.Sothisishowit’sgoingtobenow?Iturnyoudown,soyougivemethesilenttreatment?”
Hepausedthen,andInotedhowhisfingersrolledintofistsathissides,thosebackmusclesstillripplinginthelowlightofthegym.Onlyonelightwasonoverhead,anditbathedhiminmenacingshadows,highlightingthecutsinhisbodyevenmore.
Itwaspsychotic,howmuchIlovedthatI’dmadehimstopwiththosewords,howmuchIgotoffonknowingIhadthepowertomakehisfistsclench.
“IsaidI’msorry,”Irepeated.
Hecrackedhisneck.
“Well,that’srealmature,Vince,”Isaid,tonguingmycheekonalaughwhenhedidn’trespond.“I’msogladwe’rebothadults.I’msoglad—”
Mynextwordsweresuckedoutoftheroom,alongwithalltheoxygeninit,becauseVincespunonhisheelandchargedtowardme.Myheartlodgedinmythroat,eyeswideasItookinthesnarlonhislips,thefurrowofhisbrows.
Hewasamanontheedge,andI’djustshovedhimover.
ButIwasn’tscared.
Istoodthere,notmoving,waitingforhimtowashovermelikeabarrelwavethatwouldtakemedowntoaworldI’dneverknown.Mychestheavedwithmynextbreath,andinfourlongstrides,heinvadedeveryinchofmyspace.
Everyinchofme
Hesuckedinaharshbreaththroughhisnoseashishandreachedoutforme,snatchingmychinjustlikehehadthatdayinBoston.HiseyesflaredwhenIdidn’tpullaway,whenIleanedintothetouch,pushinguntilIwassurehisfingerswouldbruiseme.
Iheldhisstare,bothofusbreathinghardandshallowashesqueezedmyjawandtiltedmyheadevenhigher.
Itwasjustthepermissionhewaslookingfor.
“I’vehadenoughofthatfuckingmouthofyours,”hehusked.
Andthenhekissedme.
Webothinhaledafierybreaththemomenthislipscrasheddownontomine,andheheldmetherelikehewasafraidI’dpullaway.ButIdidn’t.Icouldn’t
Ipressedupontomytoes,threadingmyhandsintohishairandtwistingthestrandsbetweenmyfingertips—tugging,pulling,demandingmore.
Vincereleasedhisgriponmyjaw,reachingdowntopalmmyass,instead.Heliftedme,pullingmeintohismassivearmsasmylegswrappedeagerlyaroundhiswaist.
Wewereonthemovethen,hismouthstilldevouringmineuntilmybackslammedagainstthewall.
No,notthewall.
Themirror.
“Thisfuckingmouth,”hebreathed,bitingmylipuntilIwinced.Assoonashereleasedit,Iwaskissinghimagain,askingforanotherlashing.“Thisfuckingdress,”hesaid,hishandsfistinginthevelvetfabricatmyhips.Henudgedmychinwithhisnoseatthesametime,givingmenochoicebuttoletmyheadfallbackashislipsdescendedonmyneck.
Hishandsgrippedmyhipswhilehewedgedhimselfbetweenmythighs,andheranhistongueupmyneckandalongmyjawbeforesuckingmyearlobebetweenhisteeth.
“Youhavemesofuckedup,Maven.Everywakinghour,everywakingminuteofmylifeiswreckedbythoughtsofyou.”
Iwhimperedashishandslidunderthehemofmydresswiththosewords,andheteasedthelineofmylacepanties,runningonefingertipalongtheedgesthathuggedmyinnerthighs.Ispreadwider,wantinghimtocrossthatfabricboundary.
“Youaresodeep-seatedinmymind,inmybeing.Iwillneverberidofyou.”
Thatmademyheartstop,myanxietytryingtosnakeitswayin.Ipressedmyhandtohischest,makinghimlookatme,ashamedoftheweaknessinmyvoiceevenbeforeIspoke.
“Evenonceyou’vehadme?”
Hiseyesdancedunderthosebentbrowsofhis—onescarred,oneperfect—andhedroppedhisforeheadtomineonalongsigh.
“Especiallythen,”hebreathedagainstmylips.
Foramoment,Ithoughthewassecond-guessing,thoughthemightpullawayandputmyfeetbackontheground,helpmerightmydress,andtellmeweshouldn’t.
So,beforehecould,Igrabbedhimbythebackofhisneckandpulledhimintomeagain.
“ThenIguesswe’rebothfucked,”Isaid,andIlickedhislipuntilheopenedhismouthandletmein.
Hekissedmeonanotherdeepinhale,smotheringthecurseandanyresolveIhadlefttofightthechemistrybetweenus.Evenifitwasjustonce,evenifthiswasallwehad—Iwantedit.
Itwasall-consuming,thatkiss—hishandscompletelydestroyingmyblowout,hismouthcompletelydestroyingmylipstick.
Him,completelydestroyingme
Hewrappedmeupinhisarms,holdingmetohimasmybackleftthemirror.Heheldallofmyweightthen,andhekissedmeeverystepofthewayuntildroppingmecarefullyontoaweightbench.Ididn’thaveachanceinhellofcatchingmybreathwhenhereleasedthekiss,andassoonashedid,heyankedmyhipsuntilmyasswashangingovertheedgeofthebench,mybodyinatilted,awkwardangle.
Myhandsflewuptogripthefirstthingtheycouldfind—acoldbarbell—andthenVincesmackedtheoutsideofmythigh.
“Lift,”hecommanded.
Ipressedweightintomyheelsonthefloor,justenoughformyasstoriseoffthebench.Vinceshovedmydressuptomyribcage,wettinghislipsatthesightofmythongbeforehehookedhisthumbsinthebandofit.
“Letmeseeyou,”hesaid,slowlypeelingthefabricdownovermythighs.Assoonasitwaspastmyass,Isatdownagain,andIhadnochoicebuttoliftmylegsandlethimpeelittherestofthewayoff.
Whenmypantiesweretossedsomewherebehindhim,Itriedtoputmylegsbackdown,butheclampedhishandsoverthemandheldthemup—ankleswrappedtogetherinoneofhishands,legsfusedtogether,mybarepussyframedbytheswellsofmyassproppedontheedgeofthebench.
“Fuckme,thisisabeautifulsight.”Hequirkedhisscarredbrowatmysneakersnext,laughingalittleashepoppedoneoffandthentheother.
“Don’tjudge,”Ibreathed.
“Pet,theonlythingI’mjudgingrightnowishowfuckingsoakedyouare,”hesaid,kissingtheinsideofmyankleoncehehadmysocksdiscarded.“Stubborngirl.Howlonghaveyoubeenthiswetforme?”
Irippedoutofhishold,pressingmytoesintohischest.“Don’tcallmepet.”
“Youlikeit.”
Itiltedmychinindefiance,butcouldn’tfuckingdenyit—soIkeptmymouthshut.
Vincesmirkedinvictory,andthenhegrabbedoneofmyanklesineachhandandslowly,painfullyslowly,openedme.
Hiseyesdrankmeinashespreadmylegs,andhestaredatwhereIknewIwasglisteningforhimbeforehedroppedtohiskneesinfrontofme.Heplacedoneofmyfeetonthebench,theotheronthefloor,andthenhehookedmyhipsandtuggedmeevencloser,myhandsholdingthebarnowworkingovertimetokeepfromfallingontopofhim.
Heseemedtonoticebecausehenoddedatthatbarwithawickedgrin.“Holdtight,”hesaid,andthenhedescended.
Itwasaslow,teasingtorture—hislipskissingupmythighthatwasproppedonthebench.Heflickedhistongueovermyclitjustoncebeforehewaskissingdowntheotherthigh,andIsquirmed,grippingthebarsohardIwonderedifI’dcallous.
VinceTanevwasonhisfuckingkneesforme.
Therewasnothoughtmoreeroticthanthatone.
JustwhenIthoughtI’dcombustfromhimkissingandlickingandnippingatalltheskinaroundwhereIreallywantedhim,hewrappedhisarmsupandundermythighs,holdingtheweightofmebeforeburyinghisface.
Histonguecoveredme,hotandwetandwiththeperfectpressuretomakemetremblebeneaththetouch.
“Oh,fuck,”Icried,tryingtositmyassbackonthebenchsoIcouldspreadwiderforhim.Buthekeptmeup,keptmeshakingandholdingonfordearlifeasheworked.Myheartwaspounding,therealityofthemomentstealingmybreath.SomewhereinthebackofmymindIknewitwasabadidea,thatIwasn’tbeingprofessional,thatthiswouldallblowupinmyface.
Icouldn’tfinditinmetostop.Ineverwantedhimtostop.
“Jesus,Maven,”hebreathedagainstme,swirlinghistongueovermyclitbeforesuckingitbetweenhisteeth.Ibuckedmyhips,andhediditagain,andagain,findingtherhythmtodrivemetowardanorgasm.“Sofuckingsweet.Sofuckingyou.”
“God.”Inafeatofstrength,Iheldontothebarwithonehand,andtheotherjuttedoutforhishair,guidinghimwhereIwantedhim.
Andthenallcontactwaslost.
Myassdroppedtothebench,andVincegrabbedmyhand,guidingitbacktothebar.
“Isaidholdtight,”heremindedme,andthenhekissedmehard,hismouthwetwithmypleasurebeforehecrawleddownmybodyagain.Andhemovedevenslowerthistime,takingtheopportunitytoforcefullytugatthetopofmydressuntilmymodestbreastsspilledoverthetopofit.
Helickedhislips,mytastethere,likehewassavoringeverysipofmeashepalmedmyswellsandrolledhisthumbsovermynipples.
“IknewyouhadprettytitsevenbeforeIfeltyouthatnightinthehottub,”hesaid,shakinghisheadinaweashetookinthesightofme.Andwhatasightithadtobe—mydressshovedupovermyhips,pussywetandspreadopen,breastsspillingout,hairmussed,lipsticksmudged.“Butfuck,myimaginationwassofaroff.These,”hesaid,squeezingmebeforeheleaneddowntocircleoneofmynippleswithhistongue.“Areperfect.”
“Vince,”Ibreathed.
“Mm?Istheresomethingyouneed,pet?”
Iglaredathim,butbeforeIcouldpressmytoesintohischestandkickhimaway,hesnatchedmyankle,spreadingmewide.
“Youneedonlysayit,”heteased,achallengeinhiseyesasheheldmelikethat.
Iwastemptedtokickoutofhisgrasp,butinstead,Ileanedupabit,enoughtostaredownathimwhenIsaid,“Eat.Me.”
Hegrinned.“Withpleasure.”
Hedidn’tdelaythistime.Heenvelopedme—wrappingmythighsinhisarmsagain,balancingmeintheairasmygriptightenedonthebar.Hismouthwasravenous,histonguethatofanexpert,slidingupanddownandinme.Heusedthetipofittoflickmyclitinaquick,mercilessmotion,holdingmetohimwhenItriedtobackout.
“Ohhhhfuuucckkk,”Icried,mylegstremblingsohardithurt.Itwaslikehavingafullbodyspasm,butIpushedandstretchedandopened,reaching,holdingtight.
AndthenIletgo.
Itstruckmeonlythenthatwewereinapublicplace,whenmycriesrangoutinthatgymandechoedoffthewalls.Ihopedthepeoplewhowerestillinthebuildingweren’tonthethirdfloor,andIreallyhopedthereweren’tcamerasinthisgym.
Thosethoughtslingeredonlyasecond,though,becausetheorgasmwassopowerful,iteradicatedeverythingelsefrommybrain.Iwaslostinthatmoment,thatclimax,thewavesafterwavesofpleasurethatrolledthroughmeandmademytoescurl—allcourtesyofTampa’shotshotrookie.
WhenIwasspent,Iletoutashortburstofabreath,collapsingontothebench.MyhandswereredandrawwhenIreleasedthemfromthebar,mylegsstillquivering.
Vincesmiledagainstmypussy,kissingitlightlybeforecrawlinguptokissmymouth.
“Cameras,”Ibreathed.
“Ialreadytookcareofit.”
Iblinked.“How?”
Henoddedtowardthetopright-handcorneroftheroom.Tomyhorror,therewasacamera,buthist-shirtwasthrownoverit,blockingthelens.
“Ididn’twanttogetreamedbycoachforworkingoutthenightbeforeagame,”heexplained.
“Audio?”
“None,”hepromised.Hecapturedmymouthagainwithalong,slowkiss.“Noonegetsmygirllikethis.Noonebutme.”
Thosewordsunraveledme,sendinganyparanoiaIhadskitteringaway.Itriednottooveranalyze,nottolatchontothewayhislipscurvedwhenhesaidmygirl.Iknewaswellashedidthatthiswasjustonenight.Itwasgivingintothefirebetweenusthatrefusednottoburn.Itwasfightingandfuckingbecausethat’swhatweweremeanttodo,fromthemomentwemet.
Allthoughtswerewipedcleanwhenhegrabbedmywristsandpulledmetostand,hiseyesskatingovereveryinchofmyskin.
“Youshouldseeyourselfrightnow,”hesaid,bitinghislip.
Andthen,likealightbulbwentoff,alittlesmilecurledonhislips,hiseyeswide.
Hetuggedmeawayfromthebench,stealinganotherkiss,andthenhegrabbedmyhipsandspunmearound.
UntilIwaslookingatmyself,atus,inthemirror.LookAtYou
Vince
Thisisit.
ThatwasallIcouldthinkasIstoodbehindMaveninthatgym,thelightfromabovepaintingherinamasterpieceofshadows,meholdingherhipsandwatchinghereyeswidenatthesightofherself,atwhatI’ddonetoher.
Thiswasitforme.
Thiswasthepeakofmylife—thisview,thisgirl,thisfuckingdress.
“Lookatyou,”Isaid,leaningdownsothosewordscouldcaresstheskinatthebackofherneck.Igrabbedherwrists,holdingthemuptospreadherwingspan,andthenItrailedmyfingertipsalongherarms.
Oneofmyhandsdovedown,palmingherbreastwhereitswelledoverherdress.Myotherhandroseup,glidingalonghercollarbonebeforeIwrappeditgentlyaroundherthroat.
Herlipsparted,headfallingbackabitasiftooffermebetteraccess.SoIgrabbedherjawnext,tiltingherevenfartherback,untilherheadwasagainstmychestandthoseprettydoeeyeswerelookingupatme.
Mybottomhandslidlower,overhervelvetdress,downtowhereshewasdrippingfrombetweenherlegs.
“You’regoingtowatchwhileIfuckyouforthefirsttime,”Isaid,kissingherhair.
“Yousaythatliketherewillbeasecond.”
Shequippeditsofastitshockedme,andforamomentIjuststareddownather.Then,Iblinkedonalaughthatrippedfrommythroat.
“Baby,believemewhenIsaytherewillbeasecond,”Isaid,rubbingmypalmoverherclit.SheshookinmyarmsasIdid,andthenIliftedmyhandjustalittle,enoughtoslapherpussywithenoughbitetomakehermoan.“Andathird,andafourth,andsoon,andsoforthuntilthispussymoldstomyexactshape,it’ssosureitbelongsonlytome.”
Mavenmoaned,andthenIgrabbedherarmsandpinnedthembehindherback,herdaintywristscaughtinmygrip.Iheldhertherewithonehandastheotherstruggledwithmyshorts,edgingthemdownonesideatatimeuntiltheywereatmyanklesalongwithmybriefs.
Andthat’swhenithitme.
“Fuck,”Icursed,foreheadfallingforwardtorestagainstherhair.“Idon’thaveacondom.”
Mavenstilled,alongstretchoftimeanddisappointmentpassingbetweenus
“IhaveanIUD,”shesaid,quietly,asifshewasn’tquitesurewhatthosewordsmeantinthiscontext.“Areyou…um…doyouhaveany…”
“Iwasjusttestedatcamp,”Itoldher.“AndIhaven’tfuckedanyonesince.”
Thatseemedtosurpriseher.
Ididn’twanttoaskthesameofher,butmymomhadgivenmetoomanytalksaboutsafesexformenotto.“Maven,”Isaid,hereyesflutteringshutatthesoundofhernameasmyhandslidbetweenherlegstocupher.“Tellmeyou’retested,too.Please,tellmeIcanfillthisneedycuntthewayIwantto.”
“Yes.”
Thewordmightaswellhavebeenaprisonsentenceandafreedomflagallatonce.IslidonefingerinsideherfromwhereIwascuppingbetweenherlegsfrombehind,andshemewled,buckingintothetouch.
Iwithdrewjustasquickly.
Withonehandatthecrookofherhip,thatvelvetfabricofherdressrestingonmywrist,Iplacedmyselfatherentrance,glidingmycockupanddownherwetseamuntilIwascoated.
Iwedgedmyselfinsidejusthalfaninch,bothofushissingatthefeelofit.
Then,Ihookedmyhandsaroundherelbows,holdingherarmsbackandherchestpuffeduntilshehadnochoicebuttolookatmeinthemirror.
“Watch,”Icommanded.
AndIslidithome.
TheroomshrankasIdid,theairsuffocating,neitherofusabletobreatheuntilIwasallthewayin.Everythingsnappedbackatoncethen,andMavenshookinmygrasp,herkneesbuckling,eyesflutteringshut.
“Comeon,baby,”Icoached,kissingherhair.“WatchasIfuckyou.”
Shepeeledherlidsopen,hereyesconnectingwithmineinthemirror.Shewassowetfrommymouth,fromherclimax,thatshestretchedopenformewithjustthatflexofmyhips.Islowlypulledout,watchingherasIdid,andthenpressedbackinagain,findingmoredepth.
Itwasmewhoclosedmyeyesthistime.
Myheadlolledback,andIbitmybottomliponacursebeforeIlookedinthemirroragain.
Mavenjustsmirked,hingingatthewaist,allowingmebetteraccesstodriveitin.
Myfirststrokeswereslow,calculated,likeIwaspushingrepsinthegym.Withdrawingforfourbreaths,pressinginforone,holdingfortwo,andthenrepeatingagain.AndthewholetimeIwastornbetweenwatchingMaven’secstasyinthemirror,orwhereherassrippledeverytimemyhipsslammedintoher
Iwantedtosavorit,everysecond,committingthewholethingtomemory.Iwantedittattooedonme.
Iwantedherinmyfuckingbloodstream.
Slowly,Ipickedupmypace,kissingherneckandshoulderandjawasIheldherarmsbehindher.MymouthwasonherneckwhenIglancedinthemirrorandsawhereyesclosed,herlipsopeninamoan,hertitsbouncingwildlywheretheywereshovedupandoverthetopofherdress.
“Eyesonme,baby,”Isaid,nippingatherneck.
Sheseemeddruggedassheforcedherheadup,hergazetowardme,andwhenthoseheavygoldeneyeslockedonmine,Ipumpedfaster,harder,neverbreakingourstare.
Ireleasedoneofherarms,myfreehandscoopingupunderherthighandliftingoneleg.Iheldhersteady,stretchedheropen,andsuckedonherearlobebeforesaying,“Again.Playwiththatpussyuntilyoucomeagain.”
Shewhimperedlikeshewasn’tsureshecould,butthenherhanddovedown,nudgingherdressoutofthewaysoshehadaccesstoherclit.Shecircleditslowatfirstwithjustacouplefingers,andIslowedmypacetomatchhers.Butwhenthosetwofingersturnedintoherwholehand,whenshewasbuckingandtremblingandcirclingherpalmquicklyoverthatsensitivepartofher,Irailedher,lettingoutalong,slowcurseasIcame.
Igroanedwiththefirstrelease,andMavenwasrightonmyheels,cryingoutasshefoundhersecondorgasm.Shewasmeltingintome,andItookherweightevenasmybodyconvulsedandshookwithher.Itwassofuckinggood,sofuckingus—hotandangryandunpredictable.
“Yes,baby,”Imoaned,fillingheragainandagain.Icouldfeelmycumdrippingoutofheralready.“Justlikethat.”
Shecriedout,bouncingagainstme,ridingoutthelastofherclimaxuntilwewereatrembling,filthymess.Sweatslickedourskin,andourbreathswerestillhaggardandharshasIcarefullysetherfootbackdownontheground,releasingherarm,bothofuswincingfromhowwe’dbeentangledupnowthattherushhadpassed.
“Jesus.Fucking.Christ,”shepantedbetweenbreaths,andsheturnedtofaceme,leaningherbackagainstthemirror.
Shesmiled.
Ismiled.
Andthenshelaughed,shakingherheadasshestartedtorightherself.
“Itoldyou.”
“Toldmewhat?”sheasked,attitudepresentaseverasshetuckedhertitsbackintoherdress.
“ThatI’dhaveyouinmybedsoon.”
Shelookedaroundwithanarchedbrow.“Ididn’trealizeyousleptintheweightroom.”
Ibitmylipbeforelettingagrowlout,laughingalittleasIpinnedher.“Smartass,”Isaid,andthenIkissedhersmile.
“Vince,wait,”shesaid,pressingahandtomychest.Shelookedatthathand,thenupatme.“This…thiscan’thappenagain.Iknowwehavethis…thisthingbetweenus,andthatwas…sohot.Butitwasjustonce.Justtoscratchanitch.”
“Scratchanitch,”Irepeated.
Shenodded,browstugginginward.
“Whathappenedtowhatyouaskedme?”
“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean.”
“YouaskedifI’dfeelthesame,evenafterhavingyou,”Isaid.“Whywouldyouaskthatifthiswasjusttoscratchanitch?”
Sheswallowed,hereyesflickingbetweenminebeforeshestaredatwhereherhandstillpressedintomychestandheldmeatadistance.
“Itwasaone-timething,”shemurmuredagain.
“Uh-huh.”
“Imeanit.”
Iwantedtoaskherwhyagain.Whywasthisaone-timething?Why“couldn’twe,”asshehadputit?Whatwasshehiding?
Whatwasshesodamnafraidof?
ButIknew,eventhen,withherlookingmedeadintheeyesandsayingthatthiswasit—shewasadamnliar.
Thiswasn’tit.
Notevenclose.
So,Ihumoredher,steppingbackandgivingherspace.
BecauseiftherewasanythingIlovedmorethanfuckingMavenKing,itwasprovingherwrong.
“Fine,”Isaid.
Then,Icrossedtheroom,bendingtoretrieveherpanties.Iwalkedbacktoherjustasshewasslidingherdressdownoverherhips.
“Puttheseon,”Isaid.
“Iwasgoingto—”
“No,”Isaid,cuttingheroff.Herfingerwaspointedtowardthebathroom,andIpulledthatfingertiptomylipsandkisseditbeforedrapingherpantiesovertheknuckle.“You’renotallowedtocleanupyet.”
“Notallowed—”
“Puttheseon,andwalkhomewithmycumdrippingoutofyou.Iwantyoutofeelareminderofwhatjusthappenedwitheveryfuckingstep.”
Herlipsparted,eyeswide.
Ididn’tsayanotherword.
Iwaited,readyforhertofightme,forhertosayIwasdisgustingandIdidn’townher,thatIcouldn’ttellherwhattodo.
Satisfactionbuzzeddeepinmybeingwhenshedidn’tdoanyofthat.Instead,sheslidthethongon,showingmemorethanherwordsthatthiswasfarfromover.
Onceherdresswasinplaceagain,Ipressedheragainstthemirror,runningthepadofmythumboverherbottomlip.
“Ipromise…thenexttimeItouchyou?”Ihookedmythumboverherbottomteeth,swipinghertongueandpryinghermouthopen.“You’llbebeggingmeto.”
Isealedthatpromisewithabruisingkiss,andthenIreleasedher,turningmybackandpullingonmybriefsandshorts.Igrabbedawipeandranitoverthebench,too,becauseIwasn’tamonster.
ThatmadeMavenlaugh.
“Whereareyougoing?”sheaskedwhenIwasheadingforthedoor.
Iturned,walkingbackwardasIshruggedandofferedonelastsmile.“Gottatakecareofthattape.”
Inoddedtowardthecamerainthecornerthatwasstillcoveredbymyshirt,andMaven’slittlemouthpoppedopen,eyesbulging.
“Ithoughtyousaidtherewasnoaudio!”
“You’renottheonlyonewho’sagoodliar.”
Thelaughthatrumbledoutofmychestwasalmostassatisfyingasthedumbstrucklookonherface.
“Vince!Donotkeepthattape.”
Ihelduptwofingers.“Scout’shonor.”
“Imeanit.Youbetterdestroyit.”
IjustlaughedagainasIkickedthedooropenandmademywaytowardsecurity.
WebothknewtherewasnochanceinhellI’dbedoingthat.RollerCoaster
Maven
Thenextweekpassedinadizzyingblur
I’dbeeninadazethemorningaftermynightwithVince,wakingupwithacacophonyofquestionsandthoughtsscreamingatmeallatthesametime.
Whatthefuckhappenedlastnight?
OhmyGod…whatthefuckhappenedlastnight?
Thatwasamistake.
Thatwasthehottestexperienceofmylife.
Itcanneverhappenagain.
Ican’twaitforthattohappenagain.
IneedtotalktoLiviaaboutit.
Ishouldn’ttellanyoneithappened
Itwasjustforfun.
Itwasmorethanjustalittlefun.
AtsomepointIletoutascream,stalkingtotheshowertoscruboffthenightandthememoryandallthequestionsthatparadedontheheelsofit.
Sowhat,we’dhadsex.Sowhat,ithadbeenthebestsexofmylifebyfar.
Iwasaprofessional,andhewasmyclient,forallintentsandpurposes.Hewasalsoaprofessional,anditwouldallbefine.We’dmadeanagreementthatitwasonetimeandonetimeonly.
Ionlyhalf-believedthatasImademywaytohiscondo,feelinglikeIwasdoingthewalkofshameeventhoughIwasshoweredandrefreshed,andnooneknewVincehadhadmyasshangingoffaweightbenchwhileheatemypussylastnight.
Iwonderedifhe’dsmirkatmeallknowinglywhenhesawme,ifhe’dteasemeaboutthenoisesI’dmade,orhowembarrassinglywetI’dbeenforhim.
ButwhenVinceopenedhisdoor,hejustofferedmeapolitegoodmorningbeforelettingmeinside,andhispre-gameritualsgotunderway.Wewenttothemorningskate,heretiredforhisnap,wehadfettuccinialfredotogether,Ipostedavideomashupofhimdoinghispushupsandturningonhisclosetlightandcallinghissisterfortheirtraditionaldance.
Andallthewhile,hedidn’tsayawordaboutthenightbefore.
Sadly,welostthegameathomethatnight,endingthehotstreakwe’dbeenon.Vincehadscored,butanastyfighthadbrokenoutbetweentheteamsthatseemedtotipthemomentumintothehandsofourNewYorkopponents.Theyscoredtwice,backtoback,leavingourfansgoinghomeasdisappointedastheteamwas.
Afterthat,theweekjustsortof…happened.
TheOneMonthwithVinceTanevaccounthadgrownintoafeedingfrenzy.AssoonasIpostedastory,itwasscreenshottedorrecordedandsharedonotheraccounts,everyonethirstyformorecontent.Mymessagesweresoinsane,therewasnoprayerofkeepingup,andIcouldn’tpostaphotoorvideowithoutithavingthousandsoflikesinmereseconds.
Whentheaccountbrokeone-millionfollowers,ReyaandCamillagavemeagenerousbonus.
Andanextension.
OneMonthwithVinceTanevwasnowjustRookieSeasonwithVinceTanev.TheOspreys’GMwassothrilledwithhowticketsweresellingandallthecoverage,thathewantedmethereatleastthroughtheholidayseason,andmybossesagreed.
Itwasbusinessasusual.
Ispentmydaysandnightswiththeteam,almostfeelinglikeIhadalwaysbeenapartofit.AndthoughIworrieditwould,Vince’sdemeanordidn’tchange.Hemadehissnarkylittleremarksandsmiledinvictorywhenhemanagedtomakemyskinheat.Hetestedoutafewnewpetnames—darling,sunshine,sweetheart—allofwhichwereshotdownbyasmackorglarefromme.
Thingsweren’tweird,andhealsodidn’tpushme,didn’tpressforanothernighttogether.
WhichwasexactlywhatIhadaskedhimfor.
SowhywasIperturbedbyit?
Ifeltlikeatoythathadbeenwounduptightlyandthenboundinrubberbands.Iwasreadytogo,allthispent-upenergycracklingbeneathmyskin,butIwasstuck,unabletoreleaseanyofit.
ImasturbatedmoreinthatweekthanIhadinthelastyear,evengoingsofarastobuyatoy.
Eachandeverytime,IthoughtofVince,whichonlypissedmeoff.
Afterthatpicturehepostedofus,theInternethadbeenbuzzingwithrumors.CamillaandReyalovedit,buttheydidn’treadthecommentsthatstreamedinundereverypost,orthemessagesthatpluggedmyinbox.
You’retoouglyforVince.
Whatdoesheevenseeinyou?
Youonlygotthisjobbecausehewantstohavesexwithyou.
Howbigishiscock,Maven?
Whenhe’sdonewithyou,sendhimtome.
Whore.
Slut.
Puckbunny.
Noonewantstoseeyou.Thisisabouthockey,notsomeromancefantasy.
Itriedtoignorethem,andwhenVincewasaskedaboutusininterviews—whichwasn’toften,butenoughtomakemegrindmyteetheachtime—hewouldalwayslaughandpolitelydefer.Hespokehighlyofme,sayingIwasaprofessionalandIwasgoodatmyjob,thattheteamlovedhavingmearound,butthattherewasnothingromanticbetweenusormeandanyoneelseontheroster.
Thefirsttimehesaidit,thattherewasnothingbetweenus,I’dfeltqueasy.
EventhoughitwaswhatIwantedhimtosay.
…Right?
Iwasadamnmess.
LiviatoldmeasmuchthenightbeforeItraveledwiththeteamtoAtlanta,mesprawledonhercouchwhileshesteamedoneofherdresses.
“You’readamnmess.”
Isighed.
“Youlikehim.Andheclearlylikesyou.Stopbeingadumdum.”
“He’sfun,sure,”Iconceded.“Wehaveagoodtimetogether.ButIdon’tlikehim.Andhedoesn’tlikeme.Hejustwantstogetmenaked.”
Sheleveledmewithalook,hangingonehandonherhip.“Bitch.”
Iheldupmyhandtostopher.“Ican’tlikehim,Livia.”
Thatmadeherpause,herbrowsfoldingtogether.
“Ican’t,”Isaidagain,throatthick.“Igethivesjustthinkingaboutit.”
Mybestfriendwatchedmeforalongmomentbeforesheputhersteamerdownandsatbesidemeonhercouch.“Canyouwalkmethroughwhyyoufeelthisway?”
Myeyeswelled,andIlaughedatmyself,thumbingatearawaybeforeithadthechancetofall.“Icantry.”
Liviawasquiet,patient,waitingformetotrytofindthewordstoexplainit.Ikeptcomingupempty.Howdidyouexplainhowsomeoneleftsuchapermanentmarkonyou?
IlovedJames.Fornearlytwoyears,hewasmyeverything.Isawafuturewithhim.Wewerebuildingthatfuturetogether.IbelievedhimwhenhetoldmeIwasenough,thatweweregoingtogothedistance.Ibelievedhimwhenhesaidweweregoingtogetmarried,thatI’dbearhislastnameand,oneday,hischildren.I’dbuiltupawholefutureinmyhead,onethatfeltsosolidandsure.
Andthenhediscardedmelikeanoldgolfclub.
Allittookwasoneeventforhimtofeelashamedofme,togofromviewingourdifferencesassomethingbeautifultosomethinginsurmountable.Hewasthefirstpersontomakemesecond-guessmygutinstinct,thefirstpersonItrustedwhoprovedIwaswrongfordoingso.
WhenIwaswithVince,whenheopeneduptome,whenheaskedmeaboutwhatmademe…me…itwasterrifying.
BecauseIwantedtotrusthim.Iwantedtospendmytimewithhim.Iwantedhimtolookatme,totouchme,tosayIwashisgirl—eventhoughIscreamedathimwhenheactuallydidthat.
ButIknew,deepdowninmygut,thatwewerefromtwodifferentworlds.
AndIknewevenifIwantedtotrusthim,Ishouldn’t.
Afteralongpause,Itriedtoexplainittomybestfriend.“IguessthebestwayIknowhowtoputitisthatit’slikeifyouwereatathemepark,right?Andyou’veheardterrorstoriesabouttherollercoaster—howscaryitis,howhighitgoes,alltheloops.Butyou’vealsoheardit’samazing.Andyou’reanoptimist,you’reabelieveringoodthingshappeningtogoodpeople.So,youdecideyou’regoingtotakeachance,you’regoingtoridetherollercoaster.
“Yourstomachisinknotsasyouwaitinline,andwhentheystrapyouin,theylookyourightintheeyesandsay,you’resafe.
“So,youthrowyourhandsup,youlaughandfeelthepurejoyandexcitementofridingthatfirstslowinclineup.Youkeepyourhandsthere,andyourevelinthejoyofthefirstdrop,thenotionthatyoureallyaresafe.”
Iswallowed.
“Onlyfortheseatbelttobreak,andforyoutoflyoutatthefirstloop,beingtossedtothegroundlikearagdoll.”
Ilaughedalittlethroughmynose,shakingmyhead.
“Youendupmaimed,physicallyandmentally,foreverchanged.Anditdoesn’tmatterifitwasaflukeaccident,iftheoddsofithappeningagainareslimtonone.Yourbody,yourbrain—theywon’tletyoutakethatchance.Anytimeyoueventhinkaboutit,youtremble.Whenyougetclosetoit,youpanic.Youdon’tevenrealizeit,butyou’reinsurvivalmode,yourinstinctsdoingeverythingtheycantoprotectyou.”IlookedLiviarightintheeyesthen.“Youaren’tgettingonanotherrollercoasteragain.Youjust…can’t.”
Sherolledherlipstogether,nodding.“Thatwassomepowerfulshit.”
“MaybeIshouldbeanactress.”
“Nah,you’retoonasally.”
Ilaughedthroughthethreatoftears,sniffing.
“Okay,”sheconcededafteramoment,herbrowsfurrowedinthought.“Whatifyouplayedwithinthesafetynet?Whatifitdidn’thavetobeserious?Maybeyoudon’tridetherollercoaster,butyoustillgotothethemepark.Youknow—hangoutonthespinningteacups,getyourthrillsonthewaterrides,eattoomuchcottoncandy,staylateforthefireworks.”
Ilaughed.“Okay,Iknowthisismyanalogy,butyoulostme.”
“Lethimrockyourworld,”shesaid,leaninginandpattingmyleg.“Getyourkicks,girl.Youdeservethem.Andyouneedthem,ifI’mbeinghonest.Icansmellyoursex-depriveddesperationfromhere.”
Ismackedheraswebothlaughed.
“Thatisadangerousgametoplay,”Itoldher.“Thefriendswithbenefitsroute.”
“Couldbefun,though.”
Ichewedonhersuggestionforamoment,butnotlongenoughtoactuallyconsideritbeforeIwaswavingheroff.“Look,VinceandIarefine.Wescratchedtheitchandgotitoutofoursystem.Andnowthingsarebacktonormal.”
“Normal,”sherepeated,archingabrow.“Whichiswhat,exactly,whenitcomestoyoutwo?BecauseI’mprettysurehe’sbeenundressingyouwiththosesexyeyesofhissincethatfirstnightatthegala.”
“Maybe,buthe’sseenthegoodsnow.He’llloseinterest.He’sgotahundredgirlsthrowingthemselvesintohislapeveryday.Andwe’reprofessionals.”
Liviapursedherlips.“Uh-huh.”
“Ineedtogetgoing,longdaytomorrow.”Ipoppedoffhercouch.“Thankyouforcelebratingwithme.”
“Hey,ReyaandCamillaextendingyourassignmentthroughtheChristmasholidayisaprettybigdeal.”Shestood,too,grabbingmyhand.“Youareabigdeal,myfriend.Don’tforgetthat.”
Isqueezedwheresheheldme.“Thankyou.I…IthinkIcouldactuallyseemyselfdoingthisforreal,Liv.Iloveit.I’mgoodatit.Maybethisisjustthestart.”
“Youcandoanythingyouwanttodo.I’vealwaystoldyouthat.”
“Bestfriendobligations.”
Shepinchedme.“It’sthetruth.Ijustcan’twaittoseewhatyoudonext.”
Thatmadetwoofus.IfIDidn’tKnowBetter
Maven
Wewerelosing.
ThecrowdinAtlantawasvicious,theirchantscallousandloudaswefellbehindbyanotherpoint.Itwasfour-to-one,ourguysmakingapoorshowing,andeverysinglememberoftheteamwaswearingtheiremotionsontheirsleeves
Istoodbehindthebench,phoneinmypocketwithabsolutelynodesiretofilmwhatwashappeningnow.CoachMcCabestoodbesideme,armsfoldedoverhischest,browsbentandlipsinafirmline.Hewaspissed,butunderneathit,Icouldseetheworrywinningout.
Thiswasn’thisteam,andheknewit.
IheardhimmuttersomethingunderhisbreathastheguysbattledforthepuckbywhereWillwasdefendingournet.Cartermanagedtodigitfree,andthenhewasskatingdowntheice,andVincewasflyingoutaheadofhim,hisfocusongettinginpositiontoscore.
“Yes!Go,go,go!”
Ididn’trealizethewordshadcomefrommeuntilCoachglancedoveratmewithasmirkbeforehisattentionwasbackonthepuck.IchewedmythumbnailasCoachcalledoutinstruction,tryingtomakeaplayhappen.Thepuckwentbackandforth,aroundthebackofthenet,downtothemiddleoftheicebeforetheywerebackintheoffensivezone.
Iheldmybreaththeentiretime,visualizingthepuckgoingintothenet.
“Comeon,comeon,”Ichantedquietly.
Theguyskeptthepuckmoving,Cartermakinganattemptthatwasbattedawaybyoneoftheopposingdefensemen.Vinceswoopedin,andIsawwiththerestofthecrowdthathehadawide-openshot.
Beforehecouldtakeit,anAtlantaplayerskatedupquicklyandpummeledhimrightinthefacewithahighstick.
Thesickeningcrackofcontactechoedthroughtherink,andVincewentdowntotheice,curledintoafetalpositionandwrithinginpain
Myheartstoppedinmychest,earsringing,everythinghappeninginslowmotionasCoachtriedtokeeptheguysfromclearingthebench.TheOspreysplayerswhowerealreadyontheiceweretakingoffglovesandhelmets,everyonereadytofightasCarterhelpedVincestand.
Fistsflew.Whistlesblewrepeatedly.Thecrowdroared,encouragingthefights.
ButallIcoulddowasstareatVince.
Hewasbleeding,theskinbetweenhisnoseandcheekbonesplitwideopen.Thesightofitmademewoozy,andIplantedahandontheglassbehindmetoholdmesteady.
“Vince!”Icriedout,embarrassingly,buthedidn’tseemfazedatall.Hewipedhisgloveoverhischeek,browarchingabitwhenhesawthebloodsmeared,likehewasimpressedatthehit.
TherefereesbrokeupthevariousfightsontheiceasCarterhelpedVinceskatebacktothebench.Hehoppedtheboards,andhiseyescaughtmineasthetrainersimmediatelytuggedhimbacktowardthelockerroom.
Imusthavebeenwearingmyconcernlikeaneonvest,becausehepulledtoastoprightinfrontofme.Hesmirked,hisfacealreadyswelling,thebloodleakingdownintohisteeth.
“Hey,I’mgood,”hesaid,pullingoffaglove.Hetappedmychinwithhisknuckles.“I’mgood.”
IthoughtInodded,thoughtthenextbreathcamemaybealittlebiteasier.Thenhewasbeingtotedbacktothelockerroom,andIallowedmyselfonefullinhaleandexhalebeforefollowing.
Vince
Mavenwaslikeafrettingmamabird,thewayherbrowspinchedtogetherassheheldicetomycheekafterthegame.I’dbeenclearedbythemedicalstaff,nostitchesneeded—butitwastoolate.Bythattime,we’dalreadylostthegame,notevenscoringduringthepowerplaymyinjuryprovidedus.
Thelossstungworsethanthecutthatwascurrentlynumb,thankstoalltheiceI’dhadonit.
ButasmuchasIwaspissedoverthegame,Ididn’tmindthecurrentview—Maveninhersweatpantsandahoodiefour-timestoobigforher,herhairwrappedinsilk,eyeswideandconcernedasshetookinwheremyfacewasswollenandbruising.
“IfIdidn’tknowbetter,I’dsayyoumightbeworriedaboutme,MavenKing.”
SheflinchedlikeI’dscreamed,likeshe’dbeenlostinherownworld.Then,shesighed,finallytakingtheiceoffmyface.Shelookeddownatwheresheheldthebaginherhands,tryingtoforceasmile.
“Morelikeconcernedforthestickyoubroke.”
Ismiled,too—mostlyatthefactthatitwassodifficultforhertoevenjokelikeshewasn’tupset.Ilikedthatthought,thatsheworriedaboutmebeingokay.
Ithadbeenhell,pretendinglikeeverythingwasnormalbetweenussincethenightinthegym.Behindhockey,therewasnothingIthoughtmoreofthanthemoansIelicitedfromheronthatbench,ofherbreastsspillingoverthatdress,ofspreadingherasswhenItookheragainstthatmirror.
Mycocktwitchedatthememory,andIclearedmythroat,sittingupabitonthecouch.Wewereinmysuite,thelightslow,televisionquietlyfillingthebackgroundwithsportshighlights—includingthenastyhigh-stickingthatsplitmyskintonight.
I’dmadeitthisfarwithoutpushingher,lettingherthinkwhathappenedbetweenusreallywasaone-nightthing
Butmypatiencewaswearingthinwaitingforhertoadmititwasmore.
“ThismightbethemostI’veeverseensomethingakintodistressonyourface,”Isaid.
Mavenletoutalongsigh,tossingtheiceonthecoffeetablebesideher.Shewasonthegroundnexttothecouch,balancingonherknees,andevensoreashellfromthegameandwithasplittingheadachefromthehit,Istillhadahardtimenotimaginingwhatitwouldbeliketostandandtoweroverherinthatposition,tostretchherthroatandtakebothourmindsoffthegame.
“Howdoyoudoit?”sheasked,shakingherhead.“Ijustwatchyououtthere,andI’mgroaninginpain.Imean,tonight,yougotasticktotheface,”shesaid,gesturingtomyinjury.“Butevenonaregularnight,you’reskatingnonstop,gettingthrownintotheglassandtheboardsandontotheice,takingelbowstotheribs…”Hereyesfoundmine.“It’sinsane.”
“Itoldyou,”Isaidwithashrug.“I’mthemayhem.”
Sherolledhereyesonasmile,butitfellflatwhenhereyesskatedovermycut.“Doesithurt?”
“Alittle,”Iconfessed.“Butnottoobad.Thisisprettyminor.”
“Minor?!”
“Nowhereneargettingacoupleteethshattered,”Isaid,tappingmyveneerswithmypointerfinger.“I’msureLiviacouldtellyouallaboutthat.”
Shegrimaced,wavingherhand.“I’veheardenoughofhergruesomestoriestolastalifetime.”Mavenwatchedmeamomentbeforehesitantlyreachingout,hercoolfingertipglidingoverthescaronmyeyebrow.“Andthis?”
“Ah,”Isaid,mirroringhertouchonceshe’dpulledback.Imissedthattouchassoonasitwasgone,longingtoreachoutandsnagherhandandholditinmyown.“IwishIhadanepichockeystorytobackthisoneup,butsadly,ithappenedofftheice.”
“Falloffthemonkeybars?”
“Tookasteel-toeboottotheface,actually.”
Maven’sjawdropped.“What?!”
“Senioryearofhighschool.Pickedafightwithaguywhowasthreeyearsolderandaboutahundredpoundsheavierthanme.Allmuscle.”
“Letmeguess—overagirl?”
“Youseerightthroughme.”
Shechuckled,shakingherhead.“WhyamInotsurprised?Didhestealyourdatetopromorsomething?”
“Hegotdrunkanddecidedtouseoneofourcheerleadersasapunchingbagbecauseshewashisgirlfriendatthetime.”
ThecolordrainedfromMaven’sface
Ishrugged.“Ididn’tcareifIwasyoungerorsmallerthanhewas.AndIgotascar,buthegotthelessonofalifetime.”
“Didhepresscharges?”
“Againstahigh-schoolerwhokickedhisass?”Iscoffed.“Hewastooembarrassed.Limpedofflikethecowardhewasandleftmyfriendalone,whichwasallIwanted.”
IthoughtIsawanewlevelofrespectinhereyesasshewatchedmelikeIwasabrainbenderpuzzleshecouldn’tquitefigureout.
“What?”Iaskedwhenshedidn’tsayanything.
“It’shardformetopicture.”
“Mebeatingsomeone’sass?Comeon,Mave,givemesomecredit.Youseemedoitnightlyontheice.”
IthoughtIsawhercheeksreddenattheshorteningofhername.Imadeamentalnotetodoitagain.
“Ijustmean…Ican’tpictureyouinthatscenario.Ipeggedyouforamore…poshschoolenvironment.”
“BelievemewhenIsay,prepschoolshavemoredramathanpublicones.Wheneveryonehasmoney,andeveryonethinksmoneyispower…itcanfeellikelivinginafantasyworld,onewheretherulesdon’tapply.”
Shehuffedoutalaughatthat,hereyesonthefloorlikeshewasthinkingaboutherownpastinsteadofminenow.Isawtheghostsdancinginhereyes.
“Iwillsay,Ithinkwearingmyscariseasierthanbearingthehiddenonesyouhavetolivewith.”
Shestilled,hernextbreathpausedinherchestforamomentbeforeshelookedatme.
Iwantedtoaskhermoreaboutherex,aboutthefuckingbastardresponsibleforallthebarbed-wire-linedwallsshestoodsoshakinglybehind.He’dhurther.Thatmuchshe’dadmitted.Butitwasdeeperthanwhatshe’dleton,littleremnantsofhimstickingtoherlikeshrapnelfromanexplosion.
Suddenly,herphonevibrated,thescreenlightingupandbreakingthroughthedarknessintheroom.
Sheswipeditoffthetable,sighingabitbeforesheglidedherthumboverthescreenandfiredoffamessage.
“What’sup?”
“Reyaisaskingforanupdate.”Shelookedatmelikeshewasashamedofwhatshewasgoingtosaynext.“Everyonewantstoknowyou’reokay.”
Imaneuveredmyselftositupstraighteronthecouch.“Well,let’sgivethepeoplewhattheywant.”
“Really?”
Ishruggedlikeitwasnobigdeal,givingherawink.
Shecaredaboutherjob,aboutwhatpeoplethoughtofher.MaybeifIshowedherIcaredaboutit,too,Icouldbreakoutoftheboxshe’dputmeininhermind.IthoughtaboutwhatLiviasaidwhenI’dcalledher,beforeshe’dtoldmewhereMavenwasonherdate.
You’vegotalongroadaheadofyoutoearnhertrust.
MavenwatchedmeforamomentbeforetappingonherscreenuntilshehadInstagrampulledup.Shesnappedapictureofmeholdinguptwothumbs,andwhensheshowedittome,webothlaughedatmyswollen,bruisedface,andthegnarlycutcoveredbybandages.
Oncethephotowasposted,Mavenhoppedupfromthefloor,wincingabitfromthepositionshe’dbeeninforsolong.Mystomachimmediatelysank,knowingshewasabouttoleave.ItwasthefirstnightI’dspentwithherwithoutherteethbeingbared,thefirsttimeIfeltherpeekingoverthosewalls—evenifjustalittle.
“Webettergetsomesleep,”shesaid.“DoyouneedanythingbeforeIgo?”
Stay
Thewordreverberatedinmymind,inmychest,butIsnuffeditoutlikeacandleflame.
“Imean,Icoulduseamassage,”Isaid.“Ormaybeakiss—thatwouldmakeitallbetter,right?”
“Vince,”shewarned.
“Maven,”Iechoed.
Shelookedsocozyinthatmoment,sorelaxed,andyetIwatchedinslow-motionasshesnappedeverysingleguardbackintoplace,alittlelinebetweenherbrowsshowingbeforesheturnedaway.
“Makesuretokeepicing,”shesaid,grabbingherbagoffthetablebythedoor.
“Careful.You’redoingthatthingwhereitseemslikeyoumightcareaboutmeagain.”
Sheturned,hangingahandonherhip.“Don’tflatteryourself.”
Theresheis,Ithought.Myfeistygirl.
Icouldn’tresistthechancetoplaywithher.
“Oh,bytheway,Iforgottoask…howwasyourwalkhomefromthegymlastweek?”
Maven’sfaceslackenedasmygringrew.
“Iknowitwasabit…hotthatnight.Humid.Thingscangetalittle…sticky.”
Hermouthpoppedopenforjustamomentbeforeshescoffedandturnedonherheel.
“You’reunbelievable.”
“Diditrain?”Icalledbehindher,armsrestingonthebackofthecouchasIwatchedhergo.“Iheardthingswerealittlewet.”
“Goodbye.”
Ilaughedlongaftersheslammedthedoor.OneStubbornGirl
Vince
TherookiepartywasahighlyanticipatedeventfortheTampaBayOspreys.
Atapointintheseasonwherethingswererelativelycalm—meaningwehadatleastafewdaysbetweengamesandourrecordwasn’ttooshitty—theveteranswouldessentiallykidnaptherookiesontheteamforanightofdebaucheryintheirhonor.
CoachMcCabewasnoticeablyabsentfortheaffair,andthankfullyso,becauseIwascurrentlyinmyunderwearonstageatastripclubwithabucketofwaterbeingpouredovermyhead.
IthrewmyhandsupwhenIwasdrenchedbythestrippers,shakingmyhairlikeawetdogtotheroarofmyteammates.Weweretheonlyonesintheclubotherthanthewomenwhoworkedthere,andtheyweregoodsports,playingintoourchaosandmakingitamemorablenightforeveryone.
I,personally,wasamazedathowtheyweresosteady,walkingintheireight-inchheelsacrossasoakingwetstagelikeslippingandfallingwasn’tevenariskontheirradar.Andwhentheygrabbedthepolesbehindusandswungthemselvesupandintoaplethoraofcontortions,theteameruptedagain,nearlyblowingtheceilingoffthejoint.
Iusedthedistractionasanexcusetohopdownfromthestage,thankingthegirlwhohandedmeatowelandmyclotheswithawink.ItwaspoorCarter’sturnnext,andhewasthrowingbackanothershottoprepareforhistorture.
“Ifonlymymomcouldseemenow,”IsaidwhenIfloppedintoatableboothnexttoJaxson.
“Ew,bro,you’resoaked.”Hetriedtoshovemeaway,butIshookmyhairagain,flingingdropletsofwaterathimbeforeItuggedmyjeansonovermywetbriefs.Ilefttheshirtoff,graciouslyacceptingthebeerdeliveredbythecocktailwaitressasJaxsonusedmytoweltowipehisarms.
“Wasyourpartythiswild?”Iaskedhim,glancingaroundthebarattheabsoluteanimalsIcalledteammates.Everyonewasblasted,andCarterwasbeingdraggedonstage,theDJcueingupanewsongwithourteammatesthrowingdollarbillsathimwhilehestripped.Ilaughedwhenhisshirtgotcaughtonhisheadandhenearlyfelloffthestage.
“Wehadaprivatebeachhouseformine,”hesaid,shakinghisheadonasmileashetiltedhisbeertohislips.“Irememberapproximatelytwopercentofthatnight,butonethingI’llneverforgetiswakingupwithclownmakeupandfourgirlsinmybed.”
Ichuckled,thenturnedtothestagejustintimetocatcallCarterasheattemptedsomehalf-assspinonthepolethatmadehimfallflatonhisbutt.
“Realnicewhatyouassholespulledwiththedinner,bytheway,”Isaid.Alltheveteranshadtakenusouttoeatattheniceststeakhouseintownbeforeheadingtotheclubandtoldusitwasonthem,onlytohandusthebillattheend.
“Hey,justbethankfultheydidn’tholdyoudowninthelockerroomandshaveyourhairandbeardoff,”Jaxsonsaid.“Youneverrealizewhatanuglysonofabitchyouareuntilyouhaveanakedheadandface.”
Carterthrewhishandsupintheairlikehewouldatagame,tellingusheneededustogetlouder.Andasthecheergrewinvolume,hemoonwalkedacrossthestage,didaspinononesneaker,andlandedinajazzsplitthatmademespitoutmybeer.
Weallroaredourapproval,andthenCarterwasthrowndownintoafoldingchaironstage,andfouroftheclub’sdancersdescendedonhim.
Ismirked,shakingmyhead.
Andthen,justliketheyhadallnight,myeyesscannedthecrowduntilIfoundMaven.
Whenshe’dbeendraggedalongfortheshenanigans,Iwassureshe’deitherbowoutearlyorsitsilentfortheentirenightwithherbrowncheeksflushed.Instead,she’dfitinlikeshewaspartoftheteam,eventhrowingdollarbillsatmewhenIwasonstage.
Ihadnoideahowshewasgoingtofindanysafe-for-Instagramcontentfromtonight.TheonlytimeI’dseenheractuallyrecordinganythingwasatthedinner.
ShewascurrentlysittingwithWill,thetwoofthemlaughingandwatchingCartertrynottopopabonerwiththreehalf-nakedwomeninhislap.Butasifshecouldsensemewatchingher,shesmoothedherhairbackoverhershoulderandglancedoverit.
Oureyesconnected,myheartjolting,andsheofferedmeasmallsmilethatIrespondedtowithawink.Sheflushedalittlewhenshelookeddownatwhereherfingertipsdaintilyheldthestemofamartiniglass,andthenWillwassayingsomethingtoher,andsheturnedherattentionbacktohim.
Jaxsonpinnedmewithashit-eatinggrinwhenIturnedbacktowardhim.
“What?”
“Don’twhatme,youlovesickbastard.”
Itookaswigfrommybeer.
Jaxsonangledhimselftowardme,elbowonthetable.“Isthatsilenceadmissionordenial?”
“Idon’tknowwhatthehellyou’retalkingabout,soneither.”
Hesnorted.“Sure.Okay,so,you’retellingmethere’snothinggoingonbetweenyouandMaven?”
IttookalltheeffortIhadtokeepmyeyesonthestage.“Whatdoyouthink?”
“IthinksheshowedupatyourdoorabouttendaysagowhenyouwerethrowingyourpitypartythenightbeforetheNewYorkgame,Itoldheryouwereatthegym,andthatbothofyouseemedverytiredthenextday.”
“Itwasalongweek.”
JaxsonpokedmeinthechestwhenIwouldn’tlookathim.“Bullshit.”
Iclenchedmyjaw,fightingbacktheurgetotellhimanything.Mavenhadmadeitmorethanclearthatshedidn’twantanyonetoknow.
Ithadbeenkillingme,thelastweekandahalfofbeingaroundherafterknowingwhatitwasliketobeinsideher.Iwasexhaustedattheendofeveryday,andnotfrompractice,butfromtheeffortittooktokeepmyhandsoffher,torespectherwishes,tobeasclosetonormalasIcouldafterknowingwhatherpussytastedlike.
EverytimeIpumpedmyselfintheshower,Iheardhermoans,sawherbodyarchedinthemirror,felthercuntswallowingmewhole.IwasconvincedI’dneverhaveanorgasmagaininmylifewhereIdidn’tthinkbacktothatnight.
Andeverytimeourskinbrushedbyaccident,Ifeltit—theelectricitythatchargedthatentirenight.Iknewshefeltit,too.
Butshewasstillfightingit.
Andthathurtworsethanthecuthealingonmycheek.
Itookanaggressiveswigofmybeer,blowingoutabreaththroughmynoselikeabull.
IstillbelievedwhatI’dsaidtoherthatnight—thattherewasnowayinhellthatwasaone-timething.
ButMavenwasonestubborngirl,andmypatiencewasbeingtested.
“Alright,”JaxsonsaidwhenIdidn’tindulgehim.“So,ifthere’snothinggoingonbetweenyoutwo,thenIguessyouwon’tmindifIshootmyshot?”
Iceprickedmyveins.
Iturnedtowardhim,slowly,myeyesmenacingwhenImethisgoadinggrin.
“What?”Hefeignedinnocence,alreadyslidingoutofthebooth.“I’mjustbeingagoodfriend.Hadtocheckandmakesureyouwerecoolwithit,thattherewasn’tanythingthere,andIguessthere’snot,so…”
“Brittzy,”Iwarned,shootingdaggersathimwhenhestoodandsmoothedahandovertheseamofhisbuttondown.
Heignoredme,staringatwhereMavenwaswithWill.Shetossedherheadbackonalaugh,andheblewoutalowwhistle.
“She’ssuchafuckingsmokeshow,man.”Hesuckedhisteeththen,sockingmeinthearm.“Wishmeluck.”
MyhandinvoluntarilycrushedthebeercanIwasholding,whatwasleftoftheIPAsqueezingoutontothetable.IthoughtIheardJaxsonlaugh,buthedidn’tstop.Hestroderightovertohertableandsatdown,makingitsoMavenhadnochoicebuttoscootclosertoWill.
Andthereshewas,sandwichedbetweentwoofmyteammates.
Jaxsonthrewhisarmoverthebackofthebooth,andconsequentlyoverher.Heleanedin,toofuckingclose,hislipsbyherearashesaidsomethingthatmadehersmileandrollhereyes.
Butshedidn’tpullaway.
Shedidn’texcuseherself,didn’tpushhimoutofthebooth,didn’tsomuchasglanceinmydirection.Sheleanedintohim,intowhateverhewassayingtoher,playingwithherhairandlaughinglikethoselaughsweren’tsupposedtobereservedforme.
Inearlybrokeatoothwatchingit,andthenCarterwasfloppingdownnexttomewithagoofygrin.Heslidmeashot,holdingoutalimetogowithit.
“Youlooklikeyouneedthis.”
Ididn’tanswerhim.
ButIthrewitback,lettingitstingalmostasmuchaswatchingMaven.
Astheliquorburnedmychest,Iallowedmyselfonelastglanceather.
Then,Icrackedmyneckandfeltanewresolvesettleintomybloodstreamjustlikethealcoholhad.
Mavenwasmine.SheknewitasmuchasIdid.Butshewashellbentonpretendingotherwise.
Fine.
Twocouldplaythatgame.ToldYouSo
Maven
Somewherearoundmidnight,therookiepartywrappedupandthestripclubopeneditsdoorstootherpatrons.
Ididn’tnoticeatfirst.Onesecond,CarterwasonstagebeinghazedwhileIgottoknowWillPerrymore.Thenext,IwassandwichedbetweenhimandJaxsonBrittainasthecrowdthickenedaroundus,anditwentfromeasytohearthetwoofthemtodamnnearimpossible
Thestripperstookthestage,customerscrowdingthefrontrowjustasmuchastheypackedtheVIPtablesintheback.Go-godancersjumpeduponthebar,andthelightsflashedtothebeattheDJwasspinning.Peopletalkedandlaughedandwhistledandyelled,allofthemfightingtobelouderthanthemusic—whichwasafeat.
Evenwithhismouthrightbymyear,IhadtomakeJaxsonrepeathimselfatleasttwicewhenhetriedtokeepourconversationgoing.He’dbeentellingmeridiculousstoriesforthepasthour,mostlyabouttheshenanigansheandVincegotintoduringthepreseason.
Atabouthalf-pastmidnight,Iexcusedmyselftotherestroom,laughingatmyreflectionwhenayawnstretchedmymouthwide.Iwasreadytocallitanight.
IsearchedthepackedclubforVince.Ididn’tknowwhy,really,butIfeltlikeIshouldtellhimIwasheadingout.Itwasn’tlikeI’dpostanyofthecontentthatwouldbecapturedafterthispoint,anyway,andtheteamwasgettingalittletoorowdyformytastes
IsmiledalittleasIrecalledhowcarefreehe’dseemedallnight.Isatnexttohimattherookiedinner,ourkneesbrushingunderthetable,myheartpoundinginmychesteverytimeIglancedatwherehismassivehandsheldhiscocktail.Icouldn’tlookatthosehandswithoutrememberingwhattheydidtome,andthatwasaverybadimagetoconjureupinafancyrestaurant—especiallywhenIwaswearingadresswithonlyathongonunderneathit.
Whenwe’darrivedattheclubinacollectionoflimousines,I’dthoroughlyenjoyedwatchinghimgetdraggedonstagetobehazed.
Ilovedthathewaslaughing,thathewashavingfun.
IalsolovedthateverytimeIlookedathimacrossthatclub,hewaslookingatme,too.
Iinternallyscoldedmyselfasmyneckheatedwiththatthought.
Hiscutwashealingalready,thebandagesremoved,butthebruising,tenderfleshremindedmeofournighttogetherinAtlanta.Ithadfeltalittletoointimate,himopeninguptomethewayhehad.IwasthankfulReyahadtextedmeandinterruptedusbeforeIcouldlosemyselftoomuch.
ItwaseasytodowithVince,whichwasaverybigproblem.
Thecrowdhadaheartbeatnow,andIweavedmywaythroughit,huntingforVincetosaygoodnight.Iknewhewasfarfromturningin.Itwashisrookieparty,afterall.
IthoughtofwhathetoldmeaboutpotterythatfirstweekIwasonassignment,howithelpedhimreleasestress,helpedhimre-center.Ialsonotedthathehadn’tbeenabletocarveoutenoughtimetositatthatwheelsince,andIknewithadtobewearingonhim.
Iwasgladhewascuttingloosetonight.Heneededit.
Iaskedafewteammatesifthey’dseenhim,feelingabithelplesswhennoneofthemcouldpointmeinhisdirection.IwaspullingoutmyphonetojusttexthimthatIwasheadingoutwhenIfinallyspottedhim.
MyheartsplitintwowhenIdid.
Itwasn’tfair,thewaymybreathcaughtatthesightofhiminaVIPboothwithawomanstraddlinghislap.Itwasn’tfairhowmychestsqueezedthelifeoutofmylungswhenIcataloguedthescene:hishandsonherass,herhipsgrindingagainsthim,hispanty-meltingsmirk,herhandsrunningthelengthofhischestassherodehimtothebeat.
Theywerebothfullyclothed,butitdidn’tmatter.IfeltlikeI’djustwalkedinonhimwithhiscockinhermouth.
Shewasstunning—deepbrownskin,along,midnightbraidfallingdownherslenderback.Shemovedonhimsoseductivelyitwaslikethemusiclivedwithinher,andVincelethiseyescrawloverherbodyasshedid.
Hedidn’tlooklikehimself.
Iregistereditevenasbileroseinmythroat.Somethingwasoff.Heseemedpissed,almost…distant,notengaged,numb.
Whenhiseyesslowlysweptuptomine,theystuck,hisjawhardening.
Likehewantedmetosee.
Mynostrilsflared,butIturnedonmyheelbeforemyeyescouldwater,pushingthroughthecrowdtowardthedoor.Igaspedonthefirstsipofcleanoxygenontheoutside,andthenIclimbedintooneofthelimousines,promisingthedrivernoneoftheotherplayerswerereadytoleaveyet,andtopleasejusttakemebackandthenhecouldreturn
Blessedly,helistened,andhedidn’taskasinglequestionasIstewedinhisbackseat.
Ishookmyheadoverandover,laughingandthenscoffingandthengrowlinginfrustration.Ishouldn’thavecared.Ishouldn’thavefeltsickatthesightofhimwithsomeoneelse.ThiswaswhatIwanted.
Onetime,andonetimeonly.
Backtoprofessionals.
AndthatmeantIhadnofuckingrighttobeupsetthathehadanothergirlinhislap.
Butitkilledme.Thebetrayalswaminmygutlikeavirusthewholeridebackdowntown.
Oncetheangersubsidedalittle,disappointmentscurriedintotakeitsplace.Ishouldn’thavebeensurprised.ThiswasexactlywhatIpeggedhimfor.Itdidn’tmatterthathe’dfuckedmeagainstamirrortendaysago,orthathe’dwatchedmelikehesawrightthroughmewhenwewerealoneinthehotelinAtlanta.Itdidn’tmatterthathe’dopeneduptome,thathe’dletmeseealittlemoreofthemanbehindtheshow.
Hehadalreadymovedon,hismissionaccomplished.He’dseenmenaked,gottenhisdickwet,andnowIwasjustanotherconquesthecouldputbehindhim.
I’dtoldhimasmuchthatnightintherestaurant,whenhe’dcorneredmeinthebathroomandtoldmehewantedme.I’dlookedhimrightintheeyesandtoldhimIsawhimforwhathewas.
Buteventhen,therewasasmallpartofmethatwonderedifhewasdifferent,ifIwasjudginghimtooharshly,ifhe’dprovemewrongintheend.
Iknewnownottoholdmybreath.
WhenthelimousinepulledupinfrontoftheskyscraperIcalledhomenow,Iclimbedoutandallbutranuptomycondo.WhenIkickedoffmyheels,Ilookedaroundatthespace—atthecouchthatwasn’tmine,thechairsthatweren’tmine,thewindowsandtheartworkandthestupidfuckingfireplacethatmadenosensebecausewelivedinFlorida.
Iwassohomesick,Iletthefirsttearfallfree.
Swipingitawayassoonasitfell,Igrabbedmybagoutoftheclosetandbeganpacking.Onenightinmyownhousewouldn’timpactmyjob,andtonight,Iwantedmybed.
“Shakeitoff,Maven,”IcoachedmyselfasIpacked.“It’sfine.Youarefine.Everythingisfine.”
Ialmostbelievedit.
UntilIstrappedmybagoveroneshoulderandheavedmydooropen,onlytofindVincestandinginthemiddleofthehallway.
Ihalted,mybagswingingandnearlytakingmeforwardwithitbeforeitslungbackinplace.Vincewasstonewherehestood,likeatorturedgodcapturedinstatueform.Itwaslikehewascomingtogetmeandthenhadstoppedhimself,butthendidn’tknowwheretogoorwhattodonext,sohejuststayed,waiting.
Butforwhat?
Westoodlikethatalongtimebeforehestartedmovingtowardme,hispaceslow,eyesneverleavingmineuntilhewasstandinginfrontofmeatmydoor.Hisgazeflickedtomybagthen,andheswallowed,findingmeoncemore.
“Whereareyougoing?”
Thespellwasbrokenthen,andIrememberedthewomanwrithinginhislap.Ichuffedalaughoutofmynose.“Home,”Isaid,thenIletthedoorshutbehindme,lockingitandstalkingdownthehall.
Vincewasonmyheels.
“What’swrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Igrowled,turningtoshovehimhardinthechest.“Ifyouknow,thenwhyareyouasking,youpompousprick?”
“BecauseIwanttohearyousayit.”
“Saywhat?ThatI’mdisgustedbyyourpublicdisplayoflust?”
“You’renotdisgusted,”hechallenged.“You’remad.You’rejealous.”
Iscoffed.“Iamnot—”
“Youare.IknowbecauseIfeltthesamewaywhenIsawyoucuddledupinaboothwithBrittzy.”
Iblinkedatthat,lettingitsinkin.
Then,Ilaughed.
“You’vegottobefuckingjokingme.So,what,youjustfoundthefirstgirlwho’dletyougropeherandtookhertotheVIPbooth,hopingI’dsee?”
Hisjawlocked,buthedidn’tanswer.
“Wow.”Ilaughedagain,shakingmyheadandpushingthebuttonfortheelevator.“Realnice,Tanev.”
“Goddamnit,woman.”HesnatchedmybagsofastIcouldn’tregisterit,andthenhishandswereonme,sweepinguptocradlemyfaceashebackedmeintothenearestwall.Igaspedwhenweslammedintoit,heartracingatthemixtureofangerandpassionignitedinhisgolden-greeneyes.
“Idon’twanttodothis,”hechoked,Adam’sapplebobbinghardwiththeadmission.“Idon’twanttoplaythesefuckinggameswithyou.Idon’twanttobeinpainwhenIseeyouwithoneofmyteammatesbecauseIdon’thavetheassurancethatyou’remine,andIdon’twanttotrytomakeyoujealouswithsomerandomfuckinggirlIdon’tevenknow.Thisisn’twhoIam,butit’swhoyoumakemebecauseI’mfuckingcrazyforyou.”
Myinsidesmeltedtomushatthosewords,atthesightofthisconfident,powerfulmansorawandexposed.
Allforme.
Itwassickwhatthatdidtome,howmythighsclenchedtogetherandmypulsepickedupanotch.
ThelastbitofmygoodsensehangingonwasscreamingasloudasitcouldformetorememberwhatI’djustbeenfeelinginthecarridehome,toremindmyselfwhoIwasplayingwithhere.Butthescreamswerelikethebuzzofafly—annoying,andthensomethingIcouldignorealtogetherbecausemyheartwashummingsomuchlouder.
Vincereadrightthroughme,somethingshiftinginhim,too.
Ididn’tmeantodoit,butIdidn’thaveachoice.
Itwasagreenlight.
Hisforeheadmetmineonasigh,onehandslidingtopalmmythroat,whiletheotherranthelengthofmybodyandhookedmyhip.
“IthoughtIcouldbepatient,”hesaid,hisbreathwarmonmylips.“IthoughtIcouldwaititout,waityouout,butIcan’t.”
Hepulledback,butheldmeclosetohimashisfingerssplayedovermyneck.Heliftedthathanduntilhisthumbcouldrunthelengthofmybottomlip,andIjuststoodthereandlethimtouchme,tryingnottoblackoutfromtherushofadrenalinesurgingthroughme.
Theelevatordinged,thedoorsopening,mylastchancetoescape.
Iletthemclose.
Vince’seyessmolderedwhenIdidn’tsmartmouthhim,whenIdidn’tshovehimaway,whenIdidn’tboltforthatelevator.Hisbreathwasasshallowasmine,andIfocusedonthathollowpointinhisthroatasheunhookedmyhip.
Inthenextbreath,thathandwasupandundermydress,cuppingmeasIgaspedandletmyheadfallbackagainstthewall.
“Lookatme,”hehusked.
Ittookallmyefforttodowhathesaid,tolookintohiseyesasherubbedhispalmupandthendown,slowlyfiringmetolifelikeonlyhecould.Iwantedtofightit,andIdidn’tevenknowwhy.Iwantedtoclampmykneestogetherandwalkawayandtellhimtogofuckhimself.
Butmybodywasatraitor,andIfeltmyselfspreadforhim—thighsopening,beckoningformore.
Thecornerofhismouthtwitched,thesmallsmileofvictory.
“There’smygirl,”hesaid,toyingwiththeseamofmypanties.Myeyelidsfluttered,butIkeptmyfocusonhim,onwherehiseyesweredancingmoreandmoreasIlethimin.“There’smyfuckinggirl.”
Whenheteasedmewithjustthetipofonefingerbrushingthroughmywetness,Isighed,hisnamerollingoffmytonguewithoutpermission.
“Vince.”
“Whatisit,pet?Whatdoyouwanttosay?”
Irolledmylipstogether,fightingagainstthefullbodytremorthatrackedthroughmewhenhepalmedmeagain,harderthistime,rubbingmewiththefrictionneededtostartthefireIwasn’tsureeverstoppedburningfromthefirstnighthetouchedme.
Iwhimpered,meltingintohim,andhetookmyweightgreedily.
“Sayit,”hewhisperedinmyear,hisfingerstoyingwithmeundermydress,tuningmelikeaninstrumentonlyhecouldplay.
“Please.”
Thewordleakedoutofmelikeairfromadyingballoon,andthesmileonVince’slipscurledupevenmore.
“Pleasewhat.”
“Touchme,”Imoaned,wrappingmyarmsaroundhisneckasImountedhim.“Takeme.”
Hecapturedthatpleawithapassionate,demandingkiss,onethatstolemybreathandwhatwasleftofmyresolveallatonce.Histonguemetmine,hishandsholdingmyassasIwrithedagainsthim,desperateforthatfrictionhe’dgivenmewithhishand.
Therubberbandsnapped.
IwasoffthewallbeforeIcouldregisterit,Vincestillkissingmehardasheswipedmybagfromthefloorandcarriedbothitandmedownthehall.
“Itoldyouso,”hegrumbledagainstmylips.
“Excuseme?”
Hebitmylip,suckingitbetweenhisteethonagrin.“ThatthenexttimeItouchedyou,you’dbebeggingmeto.”
Ididn’thavetimetoscofforpinhimwitharemarkofmyownbeforehesetmeonmyfeetinfrontofmydoor,diggingthroughmybaguntilhefoundtheringofkeysI’dthrowninthere.
“Unlockthatdoor,”hesaid,danglingthembetweenusbeforehedroppedthemintomyhand.“Andthengetonyourfuckingknees.”SayPlease
Vince
Shewassuchagoodfuckinggirl.
Assoonasthedoorwasunlocked,Mavenshovedthroughit,pullingmeinwithher.Islungherbagintothecornerofthefoyer,followingwheresheledmeintoherlivingroom.
Then,shereleasedmyhand,anddroppedtoherkneesjustlikeI’dasked.
Itwasmyfirsttimeinherplace,onethatlookedsomuchlikemine,andthenagain,nothinglikeit.Herswassmaller,bland,filledwithfurnitureandartworkthatwasnoreflectionofwhoshewas.Imadeamentalnotetoaskhertotakemehome—toherrealhome—assoonaspossible.
Butfortonight,Ihadmorepressingmatterstoattendto.
“Fortherecord,”shesaid,herassbalancedonherheels,kneesagainstthehardwoodfloor.“Metalkingtoyourteammateisnotthesameasyouhavingagirlgrindingonyourlap.”
Ismirked,wideningmystanceasIfoldedmyarmsandstareddownatwheresheknelt.“Ifyouwanttodemandsomething,Maven,justsayit.”
Hereyesflickedbetweenmine.“You’renotminetocommand.”
“No?”Iasked,tiltingmyhead.Then,Iwalkedslowlytowhereshewas,tiltingherchinwithmyknucklessoshelookedupatme.“Don’tletanothermantouchyouunlessyouhavemypermission.Idon’tcareifyou’rejustfriends.”
Hereyelidsflutteredabit,andIarchedabrow,waiting.
“Don’ttouchanotherwoman,”shesaidcarefully,quietly.
“Whatwasthat?”
“Don’ttouchanotherwoman,”shesaid,louder,eyesonmine.“Anddon’tletanotherwomantouchyou.”
Mysmileclimbed,hersteelycommandmakingmycocktwitch.Ileaneddown,takingherchininmyhandandkissingthosesweetwordslefthangingonherlips.WhenIreleasedher,Istoodtallagain.
“Asyouwish.Now,pullyourdressuptoyourhips.”
Isawit,themomentherbreathingintensified,themomenttheruleswerelaidoutanditwastimetoplayagain.Herlidsflutteredassheslowlyfoldedherfingertipsintothefabricatherwaist,scrunchingituplittlebylittleuntilitpoppedoverherassandsettledthere,ruchedatherhips.
“Spreadyourlegs.”
Hernostrilsflaredasshedid.
“Wider.”
Again,sheobeyed,feettogetherunderherassandkneesspreadwide.Icouldseethebrownfabricofherthong,howitblendedwithherskin.
“Pullthoseperfecttitsoutofthatdress.”
Withhereyesstillonme,sheslidthethinstrapoffoneofhershoulders,andthenthenext,peelingthefabricdownuntilherbreaststumbledout.Shedidn’thaveabraonunderneath,andmycockhardenedtostoneatthesightofher.
Thecityspreadoutinthewindowbehindher,lightsreflectingoffthewateroftheHillsboroughRiver.Andshewasapieceofartagainstthatbackdrop
Iswallowed,makingquickworkofmyshoesbeforemyhandsmovedtounbucklemybelt.Maven’sgazefelltowatchme,untilIhaditandthebuttononmydressslacksunfastened.Ituggedthezipperdownnext,andthenshruggedmypantsoff,followedbymysportscoatandbutton-upshirt.
Ilefttheshirton,open,exposingmychestandstomachwiththesleevesshoveduptomyelbows.Mybriefswereafuckingtent,cockachingtobefree,butIstayedclothedasIwalkedovertoheragain.
“Areyouwet?”Iaskedher,smoothingmythumboverherjawline.
“Yes,”shebreathed.
“Showme.”
Sheslidonehandbetweenherlegs,eyelidsflutteringabitassheswipedherfingerunderherthong.Whenshepulleditoutagainandshowedmeherglisteningfingertips,Ibitmylipatthesight.
“Wecandobetterthanthat,”Isaid,andthenIpulledmybriefsoff,kickingthemtotheside.Ipalmedmyself,wrappingmyfistaroundmycockandsmoothingitwithtwoslowpumps.MavenpracticallysalivatedwhenIdid,herthighmusclesactivatinglikeshewantedtoclenchherlegstogether.
Iusedmyfeettospreadherkneesevenwider,andthenheldthemtherejustincase—soshehadnochoicebuttostaysplayed.
“Openthatprettymouthforme,pet.”
“Sayplease.”
Myeyebrowsshotintomyhairlineathowquicklyshecombattedmyrequest,andwithashortlaughbarrelingoutofmychest,Iheldmycockattheseamofherlips.
“Please,”Isaidwithasmirk.
Hereyesglitteredwithamusementassheopenedhermouth,tongueskatingouttoflickmytip.
Ihissedatthatfirsttouch,shakingmyheadashereyessmiledupatme.Butsheheldhermouthopen,andIslickedthecrownofmewithhertonguebeforedippingmycockinsidehermouthjustaninch.
“Fuck,”Igroaned,everynerveinmefiringtolifeatthefeelofherwetheat.Iwithdrew,runningmyheadoverherbottomlipbeforeIpressedinsideagain,thistimeabitdeeper.
Maventiltedherheaddownabit,anglingherjawsoshecouldtakemeinwithoutgagging.Itwasthemosttorturous,beautifulsight—herkneesspreadwide,nipplespeaked,mouthopenandreadytobefucked.
Myhandsfoundherhair,andIcarefullyheldhertome,workingmyselfoutandthendeeperinside.Eachtimeshemaderoomforanothercentimeterofme,Igroanedmyapproval,flexingmyhipsandwatchingmycockdisappearbetweenherlips.
“Eyesonme,baby,”Isaid,andwhenshelookedupatmewithtearyvision,Icursed.“Yes,baby.Justlikethat.WatchmewhileIfuckyourmouth.”
Shemoanedaroundme,whichmademeseestars,andIheldontothebackofherheadandpickedupmypace.Islidinoverandandover,deeperanddeeper,untilshehadallofmeinsideher.
Andshedidn’tchoke,didn’tgag,didn’ttaponmythighsandaskforabreak.
Shekepthereyesgluedtomine,holdinghermouthopenwide,tongueglidingalongtheundersideofmyshaft.WhenshetookmesodeepIfeltthetipofhertongueonmyballs,Ishivered,holdingherthereforalongmomentbeforeIpulledoutcompletely.
Astrandofsalivaconnectedus,fromherlipstomyglisteningcock,andMavenpanted,lookingupatmelikeshewasreadyformore.
“Youwickedthing,”Isaid,smoothingmythumboverherwetbottomlip.“You’refartoogoodatthat.”
“Apparentlynot,”shesaid,stillbreathinghard.“Idon’thaveyourcumdownmythroat.”
Ibitbackagroan,holdingoutmyhandstohelpherstand.Whenshecarefullymadeherwayup,Iframedherface,kissingherlonganddeep.
“That’sbecauseIwanttocomeinthiscuntagain,”Isaid,palmingherroughlyunderherdress.IsmiledagainstherlipswhenIfelthowdrenchedherthongwas,andIrubbeditagainstherbeforeslidingittothesidewithonefingertip.“Iknewwecoulddobetter,”Isaid,slickingthatfingerinsideherandcurlingitdeep.“You’refuckingsoaked,Maven.”
“Vince,”shepleaded,andInippedatherbottomlipbeforeIwithdrewmyfingerfromherpussyandsmackedthesideofherass.
“Stripforme,”Isaidagainsthermouth.“Iwanttoseemygirl.”
Ibackedupthen,grinningatherasItookaseatonthecouch.Ispreadmylegswide,wrappingmyhandaroundmywetcockandwaiting.
Foramoment,shestoodthereslack-jawed,butthenshebreathedalaughandshookherheadbeforeslidingherthumbsintothebandofherthong.Shesliditdownherthighsandknees,lettingitrestatheranklesbeforeshegrabbedthehemofherdressandlifteditoverhead.
Herhairfelloverhershoulderswhenthedresswasdiscarded,thelong,thick,jet-blackstrandsfallingtocoverherbreasts.ButasifsheknewI’dask,shepulledthathairintoonehandanddrapeditbehindher,lettingmetakeherin.
AndmyGod,wassheasighttobehold.
Iletmyeyeswashoverher,takinginthelinesofhercollarbone,theswellsofherbreasts,thebrownpebbledpeaksofhernipples.Myeyescontinueddowntheleanlineofherabdomentoherlushhips,toherthighsandthewaythosetwopartsofhermetinanapexandframedherpussy.
Ishookmyhead,pumpingmyself.“Comehere.”
Ithoughtshelookedalittleshythen,hereyesfallingtowhereshesteppedoutofherthongthatstillrestedaroundherfeet.Sheplayedwithherhairasshewalkedtome,pullingitalloveroneshoulderuntilshestoodatmyknees.
Ireachedoutahandforher,helpinghertostraddleme,andthenIsweptherhairbackagainsoIcouldviewherupclose.
“Youaresensational,”Iwhispered,lettingmyhandsroveoverher.Chillseruptedeverywheremyfingertipstouched,andIsmiledastheydid,lovingthatIhadthateffectonher.
Herhandsslidupandovermychest,myshoulders,untilherwristscaughtthefabricofmyshirt.IreleasedmyhandsonlylongenoughforhertowranglemeoutofthefabricbeforeIhadherinmygraspagain.
MyhandswrappednearlyallthewayaroundherwaistasIliftedherup,liningmyselfupbelowher.Webothinhaledahotbreathwhenmycrownslidbetweenherlips,andsherolledherpelvisagainstit,coatingme,feelingmethickandhardatherentrance.
Herhandsfoundmyshoulders,andthenIpulledherdown,inchbyblissfulinch,untilshewassittingonmycockandshiveringatthefullness.
“God,Vince,”shesaid,nailsdiggingintomyshouldersassheliftedandslidbackdown.“Youfeelsogood.”
“ThisisallI’vethoughtaboutsincethatnightatthegym,”Itoldher,groaningasIfilledheroncemore.“Youandthismagnificentmouthandthisperfectpussy.”
Shemoaned,andthenherlipswereonme,andshetookcontrol.Hermovementswereslowandsavoring,herhipssinkingallthewaydownbeforeshe’dliftthemagainandrepeatthemotion.Soon,everybitofherwasmovingwiththepace,herbackarching,bodyrolling,headflungbackinecstasy.
“Youlooksoprettyridingmycock,”Ipraisedher,palmingherbreastsandrollinghernipplesbetweenmythumbsandfingertips.ShecriedoutwhenIdid,bodyeruptinginchillsagain.“Sofuckingpretty.”
Shespreadherselfevenwideratthosewords,andhermovementbecameerratic,herhipsnotabletogrindasfastassheneededme.Itookcontrolthen,leaninguptowraponearmaroundherwhiletheotherhandslidintoherhair.Iheldhertomeforabruisingkiss,andthenstartedtopumpmyhipsunderneathher,meetingherthrustforthrust
“Fuck,”shecursed,trembling,clawing.“Fuck,Vince,I—”
Herwordsmeltedintoasymphonyofmoans,andIhelpedherrideoutherorgasm,eatingupeverycrysheletoutwitheagerkisses.Iwantedtocapturethemall,tokeepthemforever.
Iearnedthosefuckingmoans.TheyweremorepricelessthananygoalI’deverscored.
Whenshewassatiated,shemeltedintome,fallingcompletelylax.Herbreathswerehardandshallow,herforeheadagainstmine.
“Needabreak?”Iasked,slowlywithdrawingbeforeIflexeddeepinsideheragain.
“Please.I’vegotmorestaminathanyouandyourwholeteam,Tanev.”
Ibarkedoutalaugh,flippingherintothecouchcushions.Shelandedwithapuffofthedownfeathers,herhairsplayingoutunderherasshesmiledupatmewithtired,satedeyes.
“Let’stestthattheory,”Isaid,andthenIstoodonmyknees,hikingoneofherlegsupontomyshoulderandthentheother.
Ikissedtheinsideofeachofherankles,positioningmyselfatherentranceagainbeforemyhandsfoundthearmofthecouchaboveherhead.InearlybentherinhalfwhenIdid,herkneeslininguponeithersideofherjaw.Herlegsstayedfixedonmyshoulders,andIgrinnedinappreciationasIjustbarelypressedinsideher.
“Ididn’tknowyouweresoflexible,”Imused,hipsthrustinguntilIenteredheranotherinch.
“Youdidn’tknowIdon’thaveagagreflex,either,”sheclipped.“Tonightisfullofsurprises.”
Ismiledwider,leaningdowntocapturehermouthinapassionatekissasIflexedallthewayinside.ShesuckedinabreathwhenIdid,andIheldmyselfthere,deepenoughtoleaveapermanentmarkasherlegsshookaroundme.
Then,slowly,Ifoundmypace.
Mylipsclaimedhers,cockdrivinginandoutasheranklesbalancedonmyshoulders.Herfistsheldtighttothecushionunderneathher,groundingher,untilIwasfuckinghersohardshehadnochoicebuttoholdontome.Herarmswrappedaroundmyneck,nailsdiggingintomybackasIhissedanddrovedeeper.
“Grabyourankles,”IgroanedwhenIwasclose,andwhenshedid,Imoanedhernameandfilledher,pumpingoutmyreleaseasasearingnumbnesstookoverme.Maven’spussywasthekindthathuggedyouuntileverydropwasspilled,andIrodeoutthatfeelingofecstasywithmytoescurlinguntilIwasempty.
Slowly,Ipulledoutofher,butnotbeforeImadesuretopumpmyselfcompletelydryonelasttime,squeezingoutanotherdropofcumandleavingittherebetweenherlegs.
Shewenttoreleaseherankles,butIsnappedmyfingerstostopher.
“Spreadyourlegs,”Isaid.
Hershynesswasback,hercheeksflaming,butshedidasIsaid,slowlyspreadingherlegsuntilshewasonthatcouchinastraddle,theVofherlegspointeduptothesky.
“Squeezeyourpussy,baby,”Isaid,takinginhersweat-slickedbody.“Iwanttoseemycumdrippingoutofyou.”
Shewhimpered,andIlovedthatsound—becauseitaffirmedthatshewantedthatdirtytalkasmuchasIneededtogiveit.Withherhandswrappedaroundherankles,Iwatchedasherwallsclenchedandopened,againandagainuntilmyseedstreamedoutofherpussyanddownthecreaseofherass.
“Fuckinghell,Maven,”Isaid,hoveringoverheragain.Ireacheddownandslidmyfingerinsideher,pushingmycumbackin.Then,Ikeptmyeyesonhersandaddedasecondfinger,curlingitdeep.
Shebuckedagainstthetouch,andthistime,whenIwithdrewmyfingers,Islickedtheminmycumandlubedherasswithmyrelease.
Hereyeswidenedabit,butshedidn’tstopme.Withmyheartracingandmycockalreadygrowinghardagain,Islidmyfingerinsideherass,slowandsteady,carefulnottostretchhertooquickly.
Maven’slegsshooksoviolentlyIthoughtshe’dfalloffthecouch,hereyesrollingshut.“Oh,myGod.”
Iworkedherslowly,fuckingherasswithmymiddlefingerandwatchingherpussyclenchlikeitwantedtobefilled,too.
“Iwanttofuckthisass,”Ihusked.
“Now?”
“Rightnow.”
AlittlemewlescapedherwhenIpulledmyfingercompletelyout,andsheleanedupontoherelbowstowatchasIwrappedmyfistaroundmycockandliftedherhipsuntilIcouldpressmyselfagainstthatforbiddenentrance.
“Touchyourself,baby,”Isaid,guidingherhandtoherclit.Shestartedcirclingslowly,hereyesstillraptwheretheywatchedasIslickedtheheadofmycockwiththemixtureofherreleaseandmine.ImadesuresheandIwerebothslickbeforeIpressed,openingherjusthalfaninch.
“Oh,”shecried,circlingfaster.
Ipausedthere,lettingherplaywithherselfandadjusttothefeeling.Ihadnoideaifitwasherfirsttime,butIknewanalneededtobetakenslowly,carefully.IwantedhertoloveitasmuchasIdid.
Whensheflexedherhips,givingmethesignshewasready,Ipressedinmore,takingmytime,bothofusbreathinghardwherewewatchedmedisappearinsideher.Itwascentimeterbycentimeter,aslowstretchingthathadusbothcrossingoureyesinecstasy.
“Thisfeelsfuckingincredible,”Itoldher,slidingoutandbackinjustalittle.Shetightenedaroundme,andIgroaned.“Sofuckingtight.”
“Yes,”shebreathed,closinghereyesandfallingbackagainstthecouchcushions.Herotherhandshotdowntojointhefirst,onecirclingherclitastheotherslidinsideherpussy.
“Goddamn,Maven,”Ipraised,pullingoutandslidingbackin.Iwasmorethanhalfwaynow.“You’regoingtomakemecumagain.”
“Yes.”
Itwastheonlywordshehad,anditechoedasshefuckedherpussywithtwofingers,circlingherclitwiththeoppositehandasIfilledherass.ShewasstuffedasIheldherlegsopen,drivinginandout,sweatslickingmyforehead.Ifeltanotherorgasmbuilding,andthesensationnearlyknockedmeonmyass.Ihadn’tcometwiceinonenightsinceIwasafuckinghornyteenager,andthathadbeenjustmeandmyhand.
ThiswasMavenKingdestroyingmeforallotherwomen.
Whenshestartedwrithing,buckingherhipsandcryingout,Ipickedupmypace,matchinghers,andIwasfinallyallthewayinher.Driving,stretching,feelingherhuggingeveryinchofme.
“Oh,fuck,fuck,fuckkk,”shedraggedout,pinningherlipbetweenherteeth.Ifeltthemomentshecameagain,herwallstighteningaroundmeanddrivingmetotumbleovertheedgewithher.
Ihadtofighttokeepupright,toletherworktherestofherreleasewhileIspilledinsidethattightass.Thesightofherfallingapartatthesametimemademyclimaxfeelevenmorepowerfulthanthefirst,andwhenshewasdone,Icarefullypulledout,pulsingoutthelastofmyreleaseonherstomach.MycockjumpedevenafterI’dreleasedmyholdonit,cumdrippingoutandlandingonherleanmuscles.
AndasifIcouldn’tbeanymoreturnedon,MavendraggedherfingerthroughthelineI’dleft,andthensuckedthatfingerdry.
“GoodGod,”Isaid,finallycollapsing.IsavoredthegiggleMavenletoutwhenIfellontopofher,ourbodiesslickandheaving.
Afteramoment,Ipressedupontomyelbows,tenderlysweepingherhairoutofherface.“Wasthatyourfirsttime?”
Ididn’thavetoclarify.Mavensmiledshyly,nodding.
“Fuck.”Ikissedherthen,framingherfaceandholdinghertome.“Thankyou.”
“Forlettingyoufuckmyass?”sheaskedonalaugh.
“Fortrustingmeto,”Isaid,andIpushedupsoshecouldlookintomyeyes,soshecouldseethatIcherishedthefactthatIgottotouchher,tasteher,fuckher.“Didyoulikeit?”
Shedrewalinedownmychest.“Itwasreallyhot,”sheconfessed,herskinheatingagainstminewiththeadmission.“Itfelt…different.Theorgasm.Like…deeper,somehow.Ican’tbelieveIcamelikethat.”
“IthinkI’mkeentomakeyoucomeagain,”Isaid,kissingalonghercollarbonebeforesuckingoneofhernipplesbetweenmyteeth.“Ihaveyettotasteyoutonight.”
“Webothneedtocleanupfirst,”shesaidonalaugh.
Ipausedatthat,notingwherewestucktogetherwithasmile.“Fairpoint.”
Then,Istood,haulingherupintomyarmsasshelaughedandwrappedherarmsaroundmynecktoholdon.
Icarriedhertotheshower,droppingheronlylongenoughforhertoputacaparoundherhair.Whenwewerebothinside,thehotwaterstreamingdownourbacks,weweresilent,eachofuswashingtheotherandstealingkissesin-between.
Ilatheredherbodywithsoap,washingeveryinch,carefulwhenIslidaclothbetweenherthighsandgentlycleanedherthere,too.
Butwhenwewererinsed,Ididn’tturnoffthewater,didn’tletherreachforoneofthetowelswe’dlaidout.
Instead,Ikneltinfrontofher,hikingonethighontomyshoulderandleaningheragainstthewallformyfirsttasteofthenight.DirtyLittleSecret
Maven
Myentirebodywassore.
Itwasn’tthekindofsoreafteranintensehotyogaflow,either.Itwasbonedeep,thekindIcouldonlyimagineapersonmightfeelafterrunningtheirfirstmarathon.Inmycase,ithadbeenasexmarathon—oneIdidnottrainproperlyfor.ButIdidn’tregretit.Thatsorenesswasdelicious,thekindthatremindedmeinlittleflashesofeverythingthathadhappened.
MyhandsachedfromgrippingontoVincethenightbefore,mytoesfromhowthey’dcurled,mythighsfromhowthey’dquivered,myneckfromhowit’dheldmyheadupwhileIwatchedhimfuckme.Mycoreburnedfromthecardio,mypussyfrombeingfilled,and—anewsensation—myassfrombeingtakenforthefirsttime.
AndwhileIwantedtostretchoutallmysoremuscles,Icouldn’t,becauseIwascoveredbythickthighsandhair-dustedarms,Vince’swarmthsurroundingmeandholdingmetohim.
Itriedtowrigglefree,laughingwhenIdidn’tsomuchasmakethebehemothofamanbudge.Buthedidstiratmyattempt,andhewrappedmeuptighter,kissingthebackofmyneck.
“Tryingtoescapealready?”
Hiswordsrumbledthroughme,andIbitbackasmile,snugglingintohisarms.IthadbeensolongsinceI’dbeenheldlikethat.
Ofcourse,thatremindermademyeyesbulgeopenwide.
Becausethelastmanwhohadheldmelikethathadalsobrokenmecompletely.
Iswalloweddownmypanic,drawingcirclesonVince’sarm.“Ineedtostretch.”
“Mm,Icanhelpwiththat,”hesaid,hisvoicelowandseductiveashepressedhishard-onagainstmyass.I’dnosoonerletoutalaughbeforeIwaspinnedinthesheets,hishipsbetweenmythighs,mywristsoverheadandheldagainstthepillows.
“No,Imeanseriously,Iamsoreashell,”Isaidagainsthislips.“Ineedtostretch.”
“I’llstretchyouout,”hepromised.“Afterbreakfast.”
Andthenhewaskissingdownmybody,hisscruffticklingtheentireway.
Iwiggledawayfromthetouch,breakingoutofhisgraspjustintimetocatchhisfaceinmyhandsbeforehecouldlandbetweenmylegs.
“Idon’tthinkIcouldcomerightnowevenifyoustayedthereallmorning,”Isaid.
Hekissedtheinsideofmythigh.“Notwiththatattitude.”
“Youalreadygotmethreetimeslastnight.”
“Wecallthatahattrick.ButIstillthinkwecandobetter.Let’sgoforfour.”
Ilaughedwhenhetriedtodescendagain.“Sir,amIgoingtohavetokickyououtofthisbed?”
“I’dliketoseeyoutry,”hesaid,butheconceded,balancingbackonhiskneesashetookinthesightofmespreadoutinthesheetsbelowhim.Themorninglightwascominginthroughthesheercurtainscoveringmywindows.“Alright.What’ssore,howcanIhelp?”
“Everything,”Isaid.
Hefrowned,gentlykneadingmythighswithhismassivehands.Igroanedatthesensation.“I’msorry.”
“Don’t,”Isaidonanotherlaugh.“Itwasthebestnightfuckingofmylife.”
“Doyoumeanitwasthebestfuckingnightofyourlife?”
“That,too.”
Hechuckled,handsmovingtomassagetheinsidesofmythighsasIwinced.“Howareyou…internally?”
Ipeekedaneyeopen,smirkingathimashecontinuedhismassage.“Isthatyourwayofaskingifmyassholeisokay?”
Hegrinned.
“I’mfine,”Isaid,restinginthepillowsagain.Ipointedtomycalftotellhimwheretotouchmenext.
“Stillthinkitwashot?”
Myneckburned.“Yes.”
“Wanttodoitagain?”
“Rightnow?Absolutelynot.”Iopenedmyeyestomeethis.“But,yes.”
Hischestswelledwithhisnextbreath,likehewasrestraininghimself,likeheownedmeandjustrememberedhowproudhewasofthatfact.Ifeltlikeatrophy,likeamillion-dollarcarinhisgaragethathecouldn’twaittodrivedownBayshoreBoulevard.
Forawhile,Vinceworkedmysoremusclesaswelistenedtothemorningsoundsofthecitywakingupoutsidethewindows.Eventuallyherolledmeontomystomach,massagingmylegsandassandmovinguptomylowerback.
Themorethesilencestretchedbetweenus,themoremybrainraced.
Lastnighthadbeenhot.Ithadbeen…life-altering.Thatwasthekindofsexawomandreamedabout,knowingdeepdownitwouldlikelyneveractuallyhappen.Maybeinthemovies.Maybeinbooks.Butnever,everinreallife.
Still,IcouldclosemyeyesandseethegirlgrindingonVince’slap,theonesthatsandwichedhimbetweentheminthebarafterthatfirsthomewinI’dwitnessed.Hewasdrowninginpussy.Rightnow,minehadhisattention,butIknewthisthingbetweenuswasafleetingone,asnapshotintime.
Partofmewantedtorun.
Itwastheloudestpartofme,ifIwasbeinghonest—theonethatknewI’denduphurtattheendofallofthis.VincelivedadifferentlifethanIdid.Hewassurroundedbyriches—literally—andtheattentionoftheentireworld.Everyonewantedapieceofhim.
Iwasjusttheonewhohadhisfocusatthemoment.
Myheartpickedupitspaceatanotherthought—myjob.I’djustlandedthisextension,provingtoReyaandCamillathatIwasseriousaboutelevatingourbrandtothenextlevel.Iwantedmyownsegment.Iwantedtoshowcasecommunityheroes,touseourfollowersandmyreputationinTampaforgoodwhenthiswasallover.
Ididn’twantanyone,leastofallmybosses,tothinkIwaslosingcontrolofthesituation.
Control.
Thewordstruckmelikealightningbolt.
ThatwaswhatIneededinthismoment.
Iknewitallwouldend,eventually.Wewouldcrashandburn,justlikeeverypassionateromancedoes.
ButmaybeIcouldavoidbeinghurtifIwastheonedrivingthecar.
“So,”Isaidwhenhemovedtomyupperback.
“So?”
“Shouldwetalkaboutthis?”
“Aboutmemassagingyouandtryingnottohaveaboner?”
Ichuckled.“No,Imean…this.Us.”Iswallowed,rollinguntilVinceclimbedoffofme.Isatupinbed,foldingmylegsbeneathmeashecrookedasleepysmile.
“Whataboutus?”
“Well,”Isaid,reachinguptofidgetwiththesilkwraparoundmyhair.“Obviously,wehavechemistry.Weenjoyeachother’scompany.”
Hecockedabrow.
“Ithink…weshouldkeepseeingeachother.”Iswallowed,liftingmyeyestohis.“Friends,withperks.”
Itriedtoreadhisexpressionthen,becauseitchanged—justslightly.Hestillworealittlesmile,butitdidn’tfeelquiteasgenuine.
“Ijustmean,wehavefun,we…wecankeepitthatway.Noexpectations,nopromisesformore.Just…sex.”
“Justsex,”heechoed.
Again,Icouldn’treadhim.
Buthealmostlooked…relieved.
Itmadesense.Maybehewasalreadythinkingthis,listeningtomefumbleforwordswhileinhisheadhe’slike,“Well,yeah,duh.”
“Istillwantwhatwetalkedaboutlastnight,though,”Iclarified.“Ifwe’regoingtodothis,Idon’twantyoutohavesexwithanyoneelse.AndIwon’teither.”
“Damnfuckingstraight,youwon’t.”
Iarchedabrowalittleathistone.“Ijustwantustobesafe.”
Vincescratchedthebackofhisneck,openinghismouthlikehewasgoingtosaysomething,butIkepttalking.
“Ialsothinkthisisthebestforbothofus,professionally.I’mfinallymakinganameformyself,Vince.I…IreallyenjoywhatIdo.AndIdon’twanttospoilthisopportunity.Idon’twanttobethepunchlineofajokeeveryoneinTampalovestotell.”
Hisbrowsfoldedtogetheratthat.“Andyouthinkbeingseenwithmewouldmakeyouthebuttofajoke?”
Ilaughed.“Imean,honestly?Yes.”IreachedforhimwhenIsaidtheword.“Youshouldseethecommentsthatarealreadyrollinginafterthatphotoyoupostedofus.Everyoneknowsyoucouldneveractuallybeseriousaboutsomeonelikeme.They’recallingmenames,sayingIonlygotthisjobbecauseyouwantedinmypants,tellingmetoletthemknowwhenyou’redonewithmesotheycanhavetheirturn.”Ishookmyhead.“Whenthisisallover,I’llgobacktowork,backtomylifethatnevercrossedpathswithyours.Andyou’llgobacktobeingVinceCool,withyourwholecareeraheadofyou,andthewholeworldatyourfingertips.”
IignoredthewaymystomachsomersaultedasItriedtoplayoffthenonchalanceofthatassessment.BecauseIknewthatalsomeanthe’dmoveontofuckingsomeoneelseintooblivion,andtowakingupnexttothemwithbedhairandasleepysmileIwishedwasonlyforme.
Vincewatchedmeforalongmomentbeforeheblinkedandpulledhishandawayfrommine.Hestood,givingmeabeautifulmorningviewofhisbacksidebeforeheranahandroughlythroughhishair.
Forasmall,microscopicmoment,Iletmyselfenvisionanalternateuniverse.Iimaginedhimturningaroundandshakinghishead,hisjawtightashesaid,“Fuckno.”Iimaginedhimwantingmeformorethanjustsex,wonderedwhatitwouldbeliketobeclaimedbyhim,tobeonhisarmaftereverygame,towatchhimfromtheboxwhereallthewivesandgirlfriendssat.TheWAGs.CouldIbeoneofthem?Wouldheeverwantmetobe?
ButIonlyletmyselfdaydreamforamomentbeforeIexhaledthethoughtaway.
I’dliterallylettheguyfuckmyasslastnight.Thatwasthekindofsexualpowerhehad.
Iwouldbeafooltothinkhe’deverspenditonlyonme.
Afterwhatfeltlikeforever,Vinceturnedtolookatme,hanginghishandsonhiships.Hewatchedmeforalongtime,hiseyesflickingbetweenmineunderfurrowedbrows.
“Ifthat’swhatyouwant,”hefinallysaid.
Myheartcracked.
Ididn’tknowwhatIexpected.Iwasincontrolofthesituation,justlikeI’dwantedtobe.Iwassettingthegroundrules,theterms.
Buthedidn’tevenfightmeonit,andIfeltsosillyforthinkingthathemight.
“Itis,”Ilied.
Henodded.“Icanbeyourdirtylittlesecret,Maven.”
IthoughtIsawabitofsadnesswiththosewords,butawickedsmilespreadonhisfacebeforeIcouldfullycatalogit.Andtherehewas,rightbacktoplayfulVince,knowinghecouldhavehisfunwithmeandwascompletelyoffthehookforanythingpastthat.
Itwaswhateveryguywanted,especiallyaworld-renownedprofessionalathletelikehim.
Thethemeparkwithouttherollercoaster.
Itriedtochannelmybestfriend’swords,herideathatthiscouldbefun.IwantedVince,evenifthiswastheonlywayIcouldhavehim.BecauseIknewifwedidn’tdrawlinesinthesandnow,I’dreadtoomuchintoeverylook,everytouch,everysweetwordhewhisperedagainstmyskin.
VinceTanevwasfartooeasytofallinlovewith.
AndIknewIwouldn’tsurviveitifIdid.
Now,Ihadhimwrangledbackintoabox.Itwasn’tthesameoneI’dshovedhimintoafterthatfirstnightwemet,butitwasaboxnonetheless,onewithsolidwallsandalidIcouldshutandtapeupwhenthetimecame.
Butmyheartsqueezedpainfullyinmychest,becauseevenbeingincontrol,IhadafeelingIwasalreadytoofargonetocomeoutofthisunscathed.
“Now,”hesaid,climbingbackintobedwithme.Hegrabbedhisphoneoffthenightstandandlookedatthescreenbeforetossingitbackface-down.“Ihaveforty-fiveminutesbeforeIhavetobeatpractice.”
Hekissedme,longandslow,hislipsmassagingmineashesettledbetweenmylegs.Mycorefiredupatthefeelingofhimpressedagainstme,athistonguedancingwithmine.
“Howaboutyousitthisprettypussyonmyface,”hemused,reachingdowntoslipahandbetweenmylegs.“Andshowoffthatlackofgagreflexyouteasedmewithlastnight.”
“Isthisyourproposaltosixty-nine,VinceTanev?”
Heslidafingertipinsideme,andIbitmylip,rollingintothetouch.
“Ohwait,”hesaid,withdrawing.“Iforgot.You’retoosore.Maybeweshould—”
Beforehecouldfinishthatsentence,Ikissedhimsilent,rollinguntilIwasontopofhimandcrawlinguptostraddlethatsexyscruffaroundhissmile.Witchcraft
Maven
Fallslippedawaylikeasummervacationafterthat.
Insomanyways,nothinghadchanged.Vincestillhadpracticesandgamesandtravel.Iwasstilltherewithhimeverystepoftheway.Westillvolleyedbackandforthwitheachotheraroundtheteam,nothingoutoftheordinary,himtryinghisbesttopushmybuttonsonlyformetoturnaroundanddothesametohim.Igrewcloserwiththeotherplayersandthecoach.IspentwhatsparetimeIcouldwiggleintomyschedulecatchingupwithLiviaovercocktailsoragreasypizzaatherplace.
Butineveryotherway,mylifewasunrecognizable.
Wheneverweweren’ttravelingoratthearenaforpracticeoragame,Vincewasinsideme.
Hetookmeeverymorning,everynight,andeveryafternoonwecouldmakeitwork.Anytimewewerealone,hishandswereinmyhair,hislipsfastenedtomine,histhighsspreadingmineopenuntilhecouldfindthecontacthesodesperatelysearchedfor.
Iknewthatman’shandsandmouthandbodymoreintimatelythanIknewmyownnow.IknewhowhisfingerspressedintotheskinatmyhipswhenIstraddledhim,knewtheexactsighsandmoanshewouldsetfreethemomenthewasinside,knewthegentlesweepofhistonguewhenwewerewarmingup,andthepassionatefrenzyitbecamewhenforeplayturnedtofucking.
AndIwascontent.
No,Iwasfloating,highonlifeandontheelixirVincepumpedintomewitheverysingletouch.Ididn’tthinkabouttheruleswe’dsetorthefactthatitallwouldendafterthatfirstmorningtogetherinmybedbecauseIdidn’thavetimetothink.
Wewerewrappedupineachotherineverypossibleway,andIwaslivinginthepresentmomentasifthefuturedidn’texist.
NovemberbledintoDecember,theholidayskickingupinawholenewwayinTampa.WewerealwaysabitcheekyinourChristmascelebrations,anyway—lawnsboastingSantaClausinhisswimtrunksonthebeach,palmtreesglitteringwithlights,ourweatherstayingfirmlyintheeightieswhiletherestofthecountrybattleditsfirstfallsofsnow.
Butthisyear,thecityhummedwithanexcitingenergy,becauseforthefirsttimeinoveradecade,theOspreyshadawinningrecord.
Wewere14-11-1,andeveryhomegamewaspackedtothehiltnow.Thecitywaslitupinblueandwhite,too—buildingspaintingtheirbrickswithOspreysNationorFlyBirdsFly.Ourplayerswerehealthyandhungryandouttoproveapoint,andeveryeyeinthecitywasontheprospectofmakingplayoffs.
EveryeyeinthenationseemedtobeonVinceCool.
Ouraccountshadswelledtoacombinedthree-millionfollowersinjusttwomonths,sparkingthedemandformetohavenotone,buttwosocialmediaassociatestomanagethecommentsandmessageswhileIfocusedoncontentcreation.ReyaandCamillaalsoworkedwithourmarketingteamtolaunchanentirestoreofbrandedmerchandise,everythingfromt-shirtsandstickerstobeachchairsandumbrellas.
Andinthemidstofallthechaos,Reyahadpulledmetothesideandtoldmetostartdraftingmyconceptsforwhatwouldcomeaftertheseason.
“You’veearnedthespotlight,”she’dtoldme.“Whatyoudowithitnextisuptoyou.”
Fullcontrol.Ihadfullcontrolofmycontent,mysubjectfocus,myfuturecareer,and—mostexcitedly—mysexlife.IwasflyingsohighIwasdizzyoffthelackofoxygen.And,strangelyenough,thisnewchaossomehowfelt…comfortable.
Ifoundahomewithinthemayhem.
Oneafternoonbeforeafivehome-gamestretch,Coachgavealltheplayersthedayofftorestandrecharge.IsnuckawaylongenoughtohavebrunchwithLivia,whowasjustasbusyasIhadbeenlatelywiththeteamdentistryandherotherSouthTampaclients,beforefindingatextfromVince.
Vince:Ihaveasurpriseforyou.
Me:Soundsdirty.
Vince:Oh,youhavenoidea.Wearsomethingyoudon’tmindgettingstained.
Myinterestpiqued,Istoppedbymybungalowlongenoughtochangeintoat-shirtandoverallsbeforeImademywaybackdowntownanduptoVince’sfloor.Whenheopenedthedoor,hetookinmyappearancewithashit-eatinggrin.
“Howdidyouknowtheperfectwaytodress?”
Ilaughed,lookingdownattheoverallsthathadremnantsofprojectspastetchedintothejeanfabric.TherewerepaintsplattersfromworkingonhouseswithDad,grassstainsfromgardeningwithMom,andahostofotherorganicmatterthathadcollectedovertheyears
“Luckyguess?Whatarewedoing?”
“Hangon,I’mstillappreciatingtheview,”hesaid,reachingoutformyhand.Hehelditovermyheadandgavemeaspinbeforelettingoutalowwhistle.“HowthehellyoumanagetomakeoverallssexyisapuzzleI’llneversolve.”
“Witchcraft,”Isaidashepulledmeintohisarms,onehandhuggingmetighttohimwhiletheothersliduptoframemyface.
“Mm.”Hekissedmelongandslowbeforeadding,“ThenI’mgladlyunderyourspell.”
Itwasmomentslikethis,sosmallandquickI’dmissthemifIblinked,thatIfeltit.Myheartwouldstutterandexpand,braingoinghaywiretryingtostopmyselffromreadingmoreintothingsthanIshould.
“Closeyoureyes,”Vincesaid,andwhenIdid,hecircledmeuntilhishandswereonmyshouldersandguidingmeinside.
Iheldoutmyhands,walkingslowlysoIdidn’tslamintoanything.Myfacewassplitinasmile,wonderingwhatthehellhehadinstoreashekissedbehindmyneckandmutteredabouthowhecouldn’twaittopeelmyoverallsoffmelater.Ididn’thaveanycontextforwherewewerebythetimehepulledmetoastop,butsomethingsmelledearthy,andsunlightwarmedmyface.
“Okay,”hesaid,releasingmyshoulders.“Open.”
Iblinkedmyeyesopen,pupilsdilatingabitasthesunstreamedinthroughthewindow.
Andthen,Igasped.
I’dneverbeeninthisroombefore,butjudgingbytheequipmentthatwasshovedoutoftheway,IassumeditwasasortofmultipurposeareaforVincebefore.Atreadmillwaspushedagainstthebackwall,alongwithrecoveryequipmentlikebandsandrollers,andthereweresometrophiesdisplayedinafloor-to-ceilingcase.
Therestoftheareahadbeencleared,andtheentirefloorwaslitteredwithgardeningtools,soil,seedlings,andplants.
Itwastoomuchtotakeinatonce,myeyesshiftingfromonecorneroftheroomtothenextinafrenzybeforeIclosedmyeyestightandtookadeepbreath.WhenIopenedthemagain,Istartedover,beginningatoneinchandlettingmygazefloattothenext.
Therewasabrand-newwoodenplantshelf,itspinesurfacesemptyandbeggingtobefilled.Nexttoitwasaworkingtableandtwolowstools.Thetablehadglovesandtrimmersandothertools,allbrandnew.
Thefloorwasajungleofcolor—marblequeenpothos,Africanvioletflowers,pearlsandjadepothos,arubberplant,anarrowheadplant,aChristmascactus,asplit-leafthaumatophyllum,neonpothos.IshookmyheadasIidentifiedmoreandmore,everythingfromtinytugelacliff-calanchoesucculentstoalargeandhealthymonstera.
Myhandfloateduptomymouth,coveringitasmyeyeswelledwithoutmewillingthemto.IturnedtofindVincewatchingmewithhishandsinhispockets,hisbrowsfurrowed,aslighttiltinthecornerofhismouth.
“Doyoulikeit?”
“Whatisit?”Ibreathed.
Heranahandbackthroughhishair.“Iknowyou’vebeenmissingyourplants.Ithoughtmaybeyoucouldmakeahomeforsomenewoneshere.”
Iblinked,turningbacktosurveytheroomwithmyheartthunderinginmychest.“Didyoubuildthatshelf?”
Henodded,hissmileshy.
“Andthese,”Isaid,bendingtocarefullyretrieveoneoftheemptypots.Therewasanassortmentoftheminthecorner,fromfive-inchtotwenty-fourinch,ifIwasguessing.Theyallhadtheperfectdrainageholesdrilledintothebottom.TheoneIhadwascreamywhite,withpaintedblackbohemiandesignsswirlingaroundit.“Didyoumakethese?”
Myeyesfloatedbacktohim,andheshrugged.“Ithoughtitcouldbeablendingofthethingswelove—yourplants,mypottery.”
Itriedtoswallow,butmythroatwasthick,blockedwithawadofsandpaper.“Youdidthisforme?”
Hiseyessearchedmine,worryetchedintohisbrowsashemovedcloseenoughtoslidehisthumbalongmyjaw.“OhGod,Ididn’tfreakyouout,didI?Ijustthought—”
“Iloveit,”Isaid,interruptinghim.AndassoonasIcarefullysetthepotbackdown,Ithrewmyselfintohisarms,inhalinghismasculinescentandhowitmixedwiththeearthinthatroom.“Iloveit.”
Hesighed,asifhewererelieved,buryinghisnoseinmyneck.
Everypartofmybrainwantedtooveranalyzeinthatmoment.He’dboughtawholefuckingindoorgardenforme.
Buthe’dalsoimmediatelyworriedthatitwouldfreakmeout,thatIwouldreadtoomuchintoit.
SoIdidmybestnotto,squeezinghimtightandshovinganythingthatresembledfeelingsintothepitofmystomachwhereIhopedthey’dstay.
Whenhereleasedme,herubbedthebackofhisneck.“IhopeyouknowI’mcompletelycluelesswhenitcomestowhattodonext.Idon’tevenknowifIgottherightsupplies.”
Ilookedaroundwithasmilesobigithurtmycheeks,excitementthrumminginmyveins.“Yougotplenty.Let’sgettowork.”
Vinceputonaplaylistbeforelettingmetakecharge,directinghimhowtohelpme.Istartedwithassigningeachplanttoitsnewpot,makingsurewehadthemallintherightsizesandwiththerightdrainages.Then,Ishowedhimhowtorepotthem,archingabrowwhenIaskedifherealizedwhatamessthiswasgoingtomakeonhisbeautifulwoodfloors.Buthedidn’tcare.Hepromisedmethecleanupwouldbeworthit.
Afterthat,wefellintoacomfortablerhythm,repottingeachplantandclippinganydeadleavesoffbeforewesituatedthemontheshelf.Ismiledwidereachtimeanewonewasplaced,feelingafuzzywarmthspreadinginmychestatthenotionthatweweredisplayingalittlepieceofeachofus.
“WhydoyoulistentoFrenchmusic?”IaskedasIworkedonthemonsteraandhecarefullypackedsoilintooneofthepotswithpothos.
“It’ssoothing,”hesaid.
“Doyouhaveanyideawhatthey’resaying?”
“Notadamnclue.”
Ilaughed,listeningtothesongcurrentlyplaying.Itwasslowandromanticsomehow,eventhoughIcouldn’tcomprehendit.“Itisquitelovely.”
“IfeelaboutmusicthewayIfeelaboutpottery,Ithink,”hesaid.“Idon’thavetofullyunderstandittoknowthatit’sbeautiful.”Hepaused,frowningathisownwords,andthenhisgazesiftedtome.“Funny.Ikindoffeelthatwayaboutyou,too.”
Ifoughtbackasmile,grabbingabitofsoilandrollingitintoaclumpbeforeItosseditathim.“Flatterywillgetyounowhere,sir.”
“Yousureaboutthat?”heasked,andhedroppedtheplanthewasworkingon,crawlingacrossthefloortome,instead.
“Hey,donotinterruptme.Thismonsteraneeds—hey!”
Ilaughedashetuggedmebyonelegfromthestool,andItumbledintohislap,inhalingabreathashecaughtmewithakiss.Wewerebothdirty,soilunderourfingernailsasourkisseswentfromlazyandsweettourgentandintentional.
Theafternoonslippedintoevening,thesunmovingslowlyacrossthatroomasVinceundressedmeandlaidmedownrightthereonthedirt-coveredfloor.Itfeltlikefuckinginaforest,theFrenchmusicaddingamagicalelementthatwouldburnthatmemoryintomymindforever.
???
Laterthatnight,whileVincewassoundasleep,Ipulledupanarticleonmyphoneinbednexttohim.
Imusthavewantedtotorturemyself
ImusthavewantedtoremindmyselfwhoIwas,andwhoVincewas,andhowtheruleswe’doutlinedweretheonesIneededtoremembertoplayby.
Imusthavebeendeterminedtocastadarkcloudoverthemostbeautifulday,torainonthatsunnyafternoonbeforeanythinghadthechancetobloom.
BecauseIgoogledwivesofNHLplayers,anddoom-scrolled.
Models.Actresses.Sportsbroadcasters.Popstars.Hotelheiresses.
MystomachtieditselfupintoanimpossibleknotthemoreIread,andwhenatearprickedmyeye,Isniffed,battingitawayandclosingoutoftheapp.Ilaidthere,staringupattheceilingwiththephoneonmypoundingchest.
Then,Iblewoutabreath,openedmyphoneandstartedanewnote.
Bulletafterbullet,Ilistedoutgoalsandto-dos:createnamefornewaccount,buildsixmonthsofcontentwithlocalcommunityoutreachprogramsandheroes,linkwebsitewithresourcesforpeoplewhowanttogetinvolved,investinnewcameraequipmentandupgradedphone,takeagirls’tripwithLivia,spendalongweekendwithMomandDad,remodelmypatio,tryanewhairstyle,getanewdress,getatattoo,getacat?
Isighedwhenitwastwenty-bulletslong,staringatthelistwithmyheartinmythroat.
ItitleditLifeAfterVinceTanev.
Then,Iquietlyslidmyphoneontothenightstandandcurledupbehindthenation’shottestrookiehockeyplayer,wrappingmyarmsaroundhimandlettingmyselfadmitinthatdarksilencewhatI’dneveradmitoutloud.ARealFuckingProblem
Vince
WewereupbythreewhenIdroppedmyglovesandpickedafightwithaguymuchlargerthanme.
Oneofthegoalstonightwasmine,alongwithanassist,whichmusthavepissedAustinMarchandoff,becausetheAtlantadefensemancheckedmehardagainsttheboards.Whenhedid,hesneeredthroughhisfacemaskandsaid,“Cuteshowtonight,Tanev.Thatgirlofyoursmusthaveagoldenpussy,huh?Makesureyoupassherontomewhenyou’redone.”
Igroundmyteeth,elbowinghisribsbeforeIstartedwailingonhim.Hethrewmetotheice,wherewetussledforaminutebeforeIjumpedup.Whenhewasstanding,too,hegrinnedabloodysmilelikehe’dwon.
So,Idroppedmygloves,andwedukeditouttotheroaroftwenty-thousandOspreyfans.
Iwasstillfumingwhentherefspeeledusoffeachotherandmademeskatetothepenaltybox.Normally,I’dberevvingupthecrowdafterafightlikethat,butIwasstillpissed.Iwantedtopunchthatfucker’steeththroughhislipssohe’dlearntonevertalkaboutMavenlikethatagain.Havingtodenyallegationsanytimeareporteraskediftherewasanythingbetweenuswashardenoughasitwas,buthavinganotherplayer—shit,havinganyone—talkaboutherlikeallshewaswasapieceofass?
Thatwasn’tgoingtofuckingfly.
Marchand’steammatesgoadedmewhenIwasinthebox,alongwithafewAtlantafansbeatingontheglassbehindmyhead,butIignoredthemall.MyeyesskirtedtoCoach,whoarchedabrowatmethatsaidhe’dbewantinganexplanationlater.Hewasn’tpissed,though,becausewewerewinning—andnow,wehadevenmoremomentum,ourcrowdfiredupandchanting.Afewstuffedanimalfishtoysflewontotheiceprematurely,asignthattheywereconfidentwehadthewin.
MyeyesfoundMavennext.
Isuckedinabreathathersmile,theonethatbeamedacrossherentireface.Hereyeswereshiningandbrightbehindwheresheheldherphone,andIcouldtellshewaszoomingitinonme.Sheshookherheadasshedid,andwhenIwinked,shelaughed,typingsomethingonthescreenbeforepostingthevideo,Iassumed.
IwatchedherforamomentmorebeforeIclosedmyeyes,andsetmygazebacktothegame.
Beforeher,ithadneverbeenanissueformetofocusonhockey.Itdidn’tmatterwhatkindofpussyIwasgettingbeforeorafterthegames—whenIwasontheice,thatwasallthatmattered.
Butwithherinthetunnel,itwasimpossiblenottonotice.
Ifelthereyesonme,felthersmilelikeitwasmyown.Icouldpredicttheexactshapeofit,howitwouldspreadslowly,likeshewasfightingitbeforesheletittakeoverhercompletely.Icouldclosemyeyesandseehers,couldfeelherpulseundermypalmjustlikethestickIheldrightnow.
Shewasengrainedinme.
Whichwasarealfuckingproblem,consideringwhatshewanted.
Anunfamiliarnumbnessfellovermelikefogaswedidourvictorylaparoundtherinkattheendofthegame.Wewereonfire.Iwasonfire.
AndyetIfeltlikeamanstandingonahilltopwatchingatornadotouchdown,knowingitwouldbeblazingapathofdestructionstraighttowardme,butunabletomovemyfeet.
MavenwaslaughinginthelockerroomwhenImadeitbackafterthestarceremony,andhereyescaughtminefromacrosstheroom.Shesmiled,hergazemischievousandstirringmybodytolife.
Icouldfuckthatgirltwentytimesadayandstillnotevergetenough.
“So…Boomer’s?”sheaskedmewhenIwalkedovertowheresheandCarterwere.
Ihopedmysmilewasmoreconvincingthanitfelt.“Ofcourse.Ijustwanttorunupstairsandbikeforabit.Legsaretight.”
Shenodded,smirkingalittlebitasshereachedupandthumbedmybrow.Istillhadalittlebitofdriedbloodonitfromthefight.
“Whatdidhesaytogetyousoworkedup?”
Ishrugged.“Nothing.Ijustfeltlikefighting.”
Shegavemealookthatsaidsheknewbetter,butdroppedit.“I’mgoingtogochange.Textmewhenyou’rewrappingup?”
Withanodfromme,shesweptoutofthelockerroom,andIwatchedhergowithabouldersittingonmychest.
WhenIturnedtowardmylockertostartchanging,IfoundWillPerrystaringatme.
Hedidn’tsayaword,butwhenIwentupstairstotheteamgym,hefollowed.Silently,heclimbedontothebikenexttomine,anditwasjustthesoundoftheequipmentwhirringforawhilebeforehefinallyspoke.
“Whenareyougoingtotellher?”
Sweatdrippedintomyeyes,myribsburning.“Don’t.”
Heshookhishead,sittingupandslowinghisstride.Hewatchedmeinthemirror,butIstayedbent,pedalingfaster.ThelongerIfelthiseyesonme,theharderIworked,untilIwasoutofbreathandcursing,sittinguptomirrorhisstance.Iswipedmytoweloffthehandlebarsandcoveredmyfacewithit,slingingitovermyshoulderbeforemyhandswrappedaroundthebarsoncemore.Istaredatmyknuckleswheretheywereturningwhite,allwhilehestaredatme.
“Youloveher.”
Iclosedmyeyesonalongexhale.
“Youdon’thavetoadmitit,”hecontinued.“IknowitwhenIseeit.”
Mybrowsbenttogetherthen,andIturnedtolookathim,stunnedtoseeabitofvulnerabilityonthatnormallygrumpyfaceofhis.Hedidn’thavetotellmeformetoknowtheghostsinhiseyesweretheonesofhislatewife.
Isighed,sittingupagainandfoldingmyarmsovermychest.“I’mgoinginsane.”
“It’sterrifying,isn’tit?”
Ilaughedthroughmynose,butdidn’tsayanythingmore.
“Haveyoutwobeen…”
“Fuckinglikepornstarseverywakingminuteoftheday?Yes.”
Hesmirked,wipingahandoverhismouth.“NotwhatIwasgoingtosay,butgoodtoknow.”Hefellquietforamomentbeforeadding,“So,what’swrong?”
Ididn’teventrytosaynothing,becausethefactthathecouldreadmewellenoughtofollowmeupheretoldmeIdidn’tstandachanceofconvincinghimofthat.
“Idon’tknow,”Iadmitted.“We’rehavingagreattime.She’s…God,she’sfuckingphenomenal.Funny.Smart.Stubbornashell.Thatwomanknocksmeonmyassdaily.”
“She’sagoodone.”
Inodded.
“So…again,what’stheissue?”
Iswallowed.“TheissueisthatIthinkyoumightberight.”Ilookedathimthen.“IthinkIloveher.”
Sayingthewordsoutloudfeltlikestabbingmyownchestwithadull,rustyknife.Ifelttheairleakoutofmealongwiththem,andIstareddownatmyshoesonthebikepedals.
“Whenareyougoingtotellher?”
“Never.”
Hesuckedhisteeth.“Don’tbeanidiot.”
“Shedoesn’twantthat,”Isaid.“Shedoesn’twant…me.”Thatmadetheknifetwistdeeper.“We’rejusthavingfun,friendswithbenefits,noexpectations.”
“GoodGod,why?”Willwrinkledhisnose.“Don’ttellmethatwasyouridea.”
“Hellno,”Isaidquickly.“Idon’tknow,itjustkindof…happened.Thefirsttimewehookedup,shesaiditwasaone-time-onlything.Wedidn’tevenlasttwoweeksbeforewehookedupagain,andthensheputthese…Idon’tknow,theserulesinplace.”
WillwassilentforsolongthatIturnedtolookathim,andfoundhimslowblinkingatmelikeIwasstupid.
“What?”
“I’mjusttryingtofigureoutifyoureallyareanidiot.”
“Shedoesn’twantanythingmore.Shetoldmeasmuch.Shesaidshejustwantedustoenjoythetimewhilewehaveitandthen…”
Ididn’twanttofinishthatsentence.
“Andyoudidn’tfightheronit?”
“Ofcoursenot,”Isaidquickly.
“Dumbass.”
Ileveledhimwithaglare.“WhatwasIsupposedtodo?TellherIdidn’tcarewhatshewanted,thatIdon’trespectherboundaries,andIwanttobetheonecallingtheshots?”Icontinuedbeforehehadthechancetoanswer.“Shehadherheartobliteratedbyarichassholeathlete,andshelumpsmeintothesamecategory.”Igroundmyteeth.“Isawitinhereyeswhenshetoldmeshejustwantedthislittlearrangement.”
“Who?”
“Idon’tknow,somepussygolfer.”
Willwrinkledhisnose.“IbetIcouldbeathim.”
“Yourswingisweak,DaddyP,”Isaid,tiltingmyheadtotheside.“Me,ontheotherhand.”
Hesnorted.“Sothisguyfuckedherup?”
Myhandstightenedintofists.“Shethinksifweletitgotoofar,I’dbreakherheartjustlikehedid.”
“Wouldyou?”
Iwassilentatthat,becausethetruthwasthatIdidn’tknow.
Icouldn’tmakeherpromises,notwhenIwasonlyinmyfirstseasonintheleaguewithnofuckingcluewhatcamenext.Ifmycareertookoff,whatwouldthatlooklikeforus?WouldshefollowmeifIgottradedtoanotherteam,anothercity?
CouldIexpectherto?
AndeveniftheydidextendmycontractandIgottostayinTampa,itwasn’tlikeshe’dhavethistwenty-four-seven-accesspassforever.TheonlyreasonIhadsomuchtimewithhernowwasbecauseherjobcalledforit.
WouldIbeenoughforher,ifsheonlyhadmein-betweenpracticesandgames?Wouldsheputupwithmetravelingallthetime?
Wouldshetrustme?
Andevenifshedid…woulditeverbefair,toaskthatofher,ofanyone?
“I’veneverthoughtaboutanyofthis,”Iadmitted,shakingmyhead.“IassumedI’dneverhaveto,atleastnotforawhile.Hockeyandpartyingandgirls,thatIcanhandle.ButMaven…”Iswallowed.“Fuck,Ididn’tseehercoming.”
AlittlelaughpuffedoutofWilliamatthat.“Weneverdo.”
Itriedtosmile,butitfellshort.Andforawhile,wesatthereinsilence,bothofusinourownworlds.
“Look,Iwon’tlietoyou.Ifshe’sbeenhurtbefore,theroadaheadofyouwillbebumpyatbest,andapothole-riddenshitshowatworst,”hesaid.“But…ifyou’reseriousabouther,maybeyoujustneedtogivehertimetoseethat,toseethatyou’redifferent,andthathistorydoesn’thavetorepeatitself.”
Inodded,hatinghowmychestlitupwithhopeathissuggestion.Ithoughtofearlierthatweekinmycondo,whenIwatchedMavensmileandhumalongtothemusicwhileshetendedtotheplantsI’dboughther.She’dhadherhairpulledback,ablue-jeanbandanatiedaroundthecrownofherhead,herlipsnudeandbeggingtobekissed.
ThedomesticnatureofithadslammedintomesohardIcouldbarelybreatheuntilIlaidherdownandflexedinsideher.Ihadtobeconnected,tofeelthatshewasmine,evenifjustforthatmoment.
Andthat’swhatitwas—amoment.
Ididn’twanttopressherformore.Icouldn’t.
She’dmadetherules,andIwasfollowingthem,becauseifIdidn’t,I’dloseherevensoonerthanIalreadyhadto.
Icrackedmyneck.“Thanks,man,”Isaid,hoppingoffthebike.“ButIthinkifthisisallIcanhavewithher,I’mjustgoingtosoakupeveryminuteofitandnotoveranalyzethesituation.”
“Sure,”hesaid,hoppingoffhisbike,too.“Becauseyoudon’tseemlikeyou’reworriedatall.”
Heleveledmewithonelastlookbeforeheleftthegym.
OnceI’dshowered,Iheadedbacktothecondo,promisingtheguysI’dseethemoutatthebarwhenIknewitwasalie.Ididn’twanttohavetoexplainmyself.
ButallIwantedthatnightwasMaven.
Itextedherandaskedhertocomeup,andassoonasIopenedthedoor,Ipulledherintome,kissingalongherneckandcollarboneasIworkedtoundressher.
Shedidn’tfightme,didn’tinsistwegooraskiftheguyswerewaitingonme.Sheopenedlikeaflowermoreandmorewitheachsigh,andthenwewereinmybed,andIlostmyselfinthepresentmomentwitheverythingthatshewas.
Whenwewerespent,Iwatchedherfromthebedasshewashedherfaceinmybathroom.Shehadatoothbrushinthere,too—andhershampoowasinmyshower.
Shefrownedalittlewhenshecaughtmygazeinthemirror,turningandlookingoverhershouldercoveredwithoneofmyt-shirts.
“Youokay?”sheaskedwithacuriousgrin.
Iswalloweddownthetruth,shovingWill’swordsoutofmyheadbeforetheycouldechoanylouder.
“Neverbetter,”Ilied.“Nowbringthatsweetassbacktobed.”
Whenshedid,Ipeeledmyt-shirtoffherbodyandslidinsideheruntilIfeltwholeagain.MakingaMess
Maven
ThenightbeforewehadtotraveltoOttawa,IshowedupatVince’sdoorinnothingbuthisjersey.
Christmaswasjustaroundthecorner,andIwantedtogivehimagift.Ofcourse,givinghimanactualgiftwouldcrossoverourfriendswithbenefitsboundaryandheadrightintorelationshipterritory.SoIwrappedmyselfupinthepackagehe’dbeendyingtoseemein,findingacreativewaytohavethebestofbothworlds.
Iwasbarefoot,lookingupanddownthehallandprayingnoonewouldcomeoutoftheircondosandseeme.TheymightassumeIhadonshortsunderneath,butIdidn’t—norwasIwearingabraorpanties.IswalloweddownthenervesIstillgoteverytimeIanticipatedbeingtouchedbyVince,smirkingatthepeepholeuntilthemomentthedoorswungopen.
Assoonasitdid,asturdyhandwrappedaroundmywristandpulledmeinside,andthenIwaspressedagainstthedoorwhenitclosedbehindus,andVincewaseverywhere.
Hishandspinnedmyhipstothewood,onethighslidingbetweenmineashekissedmewithalow,deepgrowlrumblingoutofhisthroat.Heslidhishandsuptopalmmybreaststhroughthejerseynext,andImoanedintohismouth,threadingmyarmsaroundhisneck.
“Woman,”hesaidwhenhepulledback,hiseyestakinginthefullsightofme.“You’rewearingmyjersey.”
“Iam.”
Heshookhishead,fistinghishandsinthefabricashiseyesgrewhungrier.“Thismakesmefuckingferal,Mave.”
“Ithoughtitmightbegoodluck,”Isaid,heatingunderhisstare.“LettingyouwinabetthenightbeforewegotoCanada.”
Hewethislips.“IdidbetthatI’dhaveyouinthisoneday,didn’tI?PastMewasagenius.”
“Maybeitcanbeanewtradition,”Isaid,linkingmyarmsaroundhisneckagain.“Mewearingyourjerseytothegames.”
Hisnostrilsflared,onehandslidinguptocradlethebackofmyneckandbringmeintohim.“Careful.Peoplemightthinkyou’remine.”
Mylipspartedwhenhehoveredhisjustaninchaway,myheartthunderinginmyears.
“They’lljustthinkit’spartofthegig,”Iassuredhim,evenasitmademychestsqueezepainfullyaroundmylungs.“Don’tworry.Yourbunnieswillonlytakeitasmotivationtotryharder.”
Ididn’tknowwhythejokefellsoflat,whyitdidn’tlandwiththesassybiteIintended.Itsoundedalmost…sad,petty,andIshookmyheadandsmiledquicklytocoverit.
That’swhenInoticedVincewasspeckledwithclay,andthatnow,thejerseyIworewas,too.
“Shit,”hesaid,followingmygazeandlookingdownathishands.“I’msorry,Iruinedit.”
“Ordidyoumakeitbetter?”Iasked,thumbingoveroneoftheplaceswherehisfingerprintswereetchedinarustorangeclayagainstthewhitejerseyfabric.Ismiledupathimnext.“Areyoumakingsomething?”
Heshrugged,noddingtowherehe’dleftaheapofclaywetandreadytobemoldedonthewheel.“Notyet.Just…fuckingaround.”
“Stressreliefbeforethebiggame?”
Heswallowed.“Somethinglikethat.”
Iknewtherewasalotridingonthistrip.TheOttawaOtterswerecurrentlyfirstinourdivision,andeveryoneassumedwewereflyinguptogetourasseshandedtous.They’dbeatusinashutoutwhentheycametoTampaearlierintheseason,andtheOspreyswantedaredemptiongame.
ThathadtobealotofpressureonVince.
SoIgrabbedhishandinmineandtuggedhimtowardthewheel.“Teachme.”
“Teachyou?”
Inodded,pushinggentlyonhischestuntilhesatonthestoolbythewheel.Then,Icarefullysatinhislap,rollingthesleevesofmynewjerseyupseveraltimesuntiltheystayedabovemyelbows.
“Idon’tknowhowI’msupposedtofocusonpotterywhenyou’reinmylap.”
“DidImentionI’mnotwearingabra?”Iasked,sneakingapeekathimovermyshoulder.
Hegroaned,wrappinghishandsaroundmyhipsandgrindingintome.
Iswattedhishandsaway.“Ifyouwanttotouchme,youhavetoteachme.”
Hisheadhitthetopofmineonanexasperatedsigh,andIsmiled,flickingonthebuttonthatmadethewheelstarttospin.Ofcourse,IhadnoideawhatIwasdoing,andapparentlyyouneededtohaveyourhandsreadybecausetheclaybegantowobbleandsprayoverbothofusandthetableandthesurroundingarea,too.
Vincethumbeditoffquickly,laughinganddigginghisfingersintomysidetotickleme.
Butthen,hetrailedhishandsupandovermyshoulders,palmsfloatingdowneveryinchofmyarmsuntiltheycoveredthebacksofmyhands.Hethreadedhisfingersovermine,movedusclosertothewheel,andstarteditagain—thistime,bringingmypalmstotheclay
Hedidn’tactuallyexplainanything,justusedhishandstoguideme.He’ddipourfingertipsinthebowlofwateratthestationbeforeshowingmehowandwheretopressagainsttheclaytoshapeit.Wemoldeditintoafat,shallowshapebeforeheshowedmehowtolengthenit,tomakeitdeeperandmorenarrow.
Asalways,hisFrenchmusicservedasthesoundtrack,andthelongerweworked,themoreIunderstood.
Itwaspeaceful.
Wedidn’tmakeanythingofperfectionorbeauty.Quitetheopposite,actually.We’dmoldforawhile,onlytodestroyandstartagain.Buttherewassomethingmagicalinthatprocessalone,thatwecouldbuildandthenchangeourminds,shapeandthenwipeclean,startoveratanypoint.
JustlikethefirsttimeI’dwatchedhiminthisspace,Ifoundmyselfmesmerizedbyhishands.Theywerewetandcoveredinclay,justlikemine,andthewaytheycuppedandpressedagainsttheterra-cottawassoeroticitmademewetwithouthimeventouchingme.
WhenhefeltlikeIhadthehangofit,Vinceremovedhishandsfrombehindmine,lettingmetryoutshapingonmyown.
Butthatlefthishandswithnothingtodo.
Andso,theybegantoroam.
Herestedthemonmyknees,markingmybareskinwiththecool,wetclaybeforehedraggeditup,up,up,towardthehemofthejerseythatjustbarelycoveredmythighs.Isighedwhenhisfingertipsslidunderthefabric,myheadfallingbackagainsthischest,eyesclosing.
“You’remakingamess,”hemusedinmyearbeforekissingbehindit,andIpeeredmyeyesopenlongenoughtoseewheretheclayhadbeguntowarpandsprayagain.
Iflickedthemachineoff,twistinginhisarmstostraddlehim.
“Soareyou,”Isaid.
“Ofyourpanties?”
“I’mnotwearingany.”
Hecursed.“Sothere’snothingunderneaththis,”hesaid,rubbinghishandsonthefabricofmyjersey.Heuseditlikeatowel,absolutelydestroyingitintheprocessofwipinghishandsclean.
Ihopedthatmeanthehadotherplansforthem.
“Imean…there’ssomething,”Iteased,nippingathisbottomlip.“Maybeyoushouldexplore.”
Whenhishandswereascleanashecouldgetthem,hedidjustthat.
Itwasashockofcoldlightning,onehandjuttingbetweenmythighsastheotherreachedupandundertopalmmybreast.Ibalancedhaphazardlyinhislap,tryingtomaneuvertogivehimmoreroomasheteasedmyslickentrancewithonethickfingertip.
Hegroanedwhenhefeltme,flickingmynippleandslidingjustafractionofthatfingerinsidemeatthesametime.Then,hewithdrewbothhandsandsmackedthesideofmyass.
“Up.”
Ijumpedoffhim,andassoonasIwasoutoftheway,hemadequickworkofhisshortsandtorehist-shirtoverhead.Hisbriefswentnext,andthenitwasjusthim—tanandtonedandgloriouslynaked.
Vincetuggedmebackintohislapandcaughtmeinaroughkiss,ourteethclashingwhenhedid.Heheldmesteadywithonehandastheotherreacheddownandplacedthetipofhiscockagainstmyopening,andhepulledmyhipsdownatthesametimeheflexedhard,fillingmewithbruteprecisionthatmademegaspandseestars.
“Oh,fuck,Maven,”hegroanedwhenhefilledme,withdrawingonlytopressallthewayinagain.Ifelthispelviscurlunderme,felthowheflexedhisassanddughimselfasdeepaspossible,untilIwassittingallthewaydown.“Ilovethewayyoufeel.Everysingletime.”Heshookhisheadlikehewasindisbelief.“I’llnevergetenoughofthis,ofyou.”
Wewerebothneedy,kissingandclawingandfuckingeachotherhard.Itwaslikeweonlyhadminutesbeforetheclockstruckmidnight,beforethespellwasbrokenandwewerewithouteachotheragain.
Itangledmyhandsinhishair,mattingitwithclayasIrolledmybodyandbuckedmyhips.Hefilledme,againandagain,hisbrowsetchedtogetherasifhewereinpain,asifheneededtoburyhimselfinsidemetofeelanythingatall.
Everynowandthen,he’dlookdownatwherehisteam’snamewasonmychest,hishandscurlingoverthestitchingonthebackthatspelledoutTanev,andIsworeIfelthimfuckmeharderthen,deeper,withmoreintensitythanI’deverfeltbefore.
Myclimaxbuiltfuriouslyfast,andItossedmyheadback,moaningandbouncinginhislap.Deftly,Ifelthishandwraparoundmythroat,andhesqueezedwithjustenoughpressuretomakemyvisiongodarkandheightenallmyothersenses.
“Openyourmouth,”hesaid,andwhenIdid,heslickedhisfingersinside
Icouldstilltasteabitoftheearthyclaymixedwithhissaltyskin,andIswirledmytonguearoundthosefingerslikeitwashiscock.Hegroanedlikethat’swhathewasimagining,too,butthenhepulledoutandtrailedhisslickdigitsdownandundermyjersey.
Theyslidbetweenmycheeks,toyingwiththeholehewasn’tcurrentlyfillingasmyeyelidsfluttered.
“Yes,”Ibreathed.
Vincesmirkedagainstmyneck,answeringmypleawithonesmoothplummetofhismiddlefingerdeepinsideme.
Igasped,shaking,clingingtohimashesetmyorgasmonfire.Hefilledmeineveryway—hismouthonmine,hiscockburiedinsideme,hisfingerstrokingtheinsideofmyassholewiththesameperfectrhythm.Thecombinationmademecombust,andanumbfirelickedatmynerveendingsbeforespreadingandconsumingmyentirebeing.
ImoanedhisnameasIcame,andwithagroan,hefollowed.Ifelthimspillinsideme,anditonlymademecomeharder,madetheorgasmecholikethatwasthekeytounlockingaseriesofaftershocks.
Itwasunbridledandmessyandsofuckinghot
Whenwefinished,Vincecarefullyremovedhisfinger,butkeptmethereinhislap,hiscocksofteningabitinsideme.Weweresweating,myforeheadpressedtohisashewrappedmeupinhisarms.
Asourbreathsevened,hemovedmyhairfrommyface,holdingatthebackofmynecklikehewasafraidI’dpullaway.Icouldhearhisheartracing,felthisheadshakemarginallyashisbrowspinchedtogetherevenmore.
“What?”Iasked.
Buthejustshookhisheadagain.
Westayedlikethatafewminutes,holdingtighttoeachotherwithoutasingleword,andthenhebeganmovingagain.
Pump.Hishipsflexingintome.Pump.Hismouthclaimingmine.Pump.Hishandsslidingunderthefabricofthejerseybeforeslidingitupandovermyhead.
Hedroppedittothefloor,handsexploringmynewlyrevealedskinthathadbeencoveredthefirstround.Heroamedeveryinchofmynavel,myribcage,mybreasts,andbackdowntomyhips.
Andhegrewharderinsideme,hisreleasemixingwithmineandprovidingthelubricationtokeepgoing.
Everythingwasmoresensitivethistime,ourbodiesalreadysatedaswepushedthemtogiveusmore.Myeyeslockedonhis,andVinceheldmethere,grabbingthebackofmyneckandmakingmewatchhimasheflexeddeeper.
Itwastoomuch.
Iwantedtoclosemyeyes,tolookaway,todisconnect.Becausethewayhelookedatme,thewayheslowedhispacesomuchthathewasjustbarelymovinginsideme,thewayheheldmesotightlikehethoughtImightdisappear…
Itwasintimate.
Itwasheavier,moreweightedthananytimehe’dtouchedmebefore.
“Vince,”Iwarned.
Heonlyheldmetighter,andwhenIclosedmyeyes,hesmackedmyass.
“Lookatme.”
WhenIdid,heshookhishead,rollinghislipstogetherashestartedtofuckmefaster.
“Whathaveyoudonetome?”
HewhisperedthewordssolowIthoughtImighthavemisheardthem,andthenhewaskissingmesohardithurt.
Vincewassodeep,soneedy,andthepowerthatsentrushingthroughmesharpenedintoanelectricfire.Ireachedbetweenus,circlingmyclit,andmysecondorgasmshotthroughmesoquickitdidn’tseempossible.Itwasmoreintense,myclitalreadysensitive,mywallsswollen.Icriedouteverylastwaveofit,andthenVincecame,too,andheheldmedownonhislap,hiscocktwitchinginsideme,cumleakingoutanddowntheinsidesofmythighs.
I’dneverfeltanythinglikethatbefore,notinallmylife.
Assoonaswestoppedmoving,tearsprickedmyeyes.
Ipanicked,notwantingVincetosee,soIclimbedoffhislapandmutteredsomethingaboutcleaningupbeforeIpaddeddownthehalltohisshower.MyfacewarpedwhenImadeittothebathroom,andIpressedahandoverwheremyheartsqueezedundermyribcage,likethatcouldsootheit.
Itwastoomuch.
Thatfirsttimewasfucking.
Butthatsecondtime…
Itfeltawholelotlikemakinglove
Iclosedmyeyes,shakingmyheadandswipingthetearsfrommycheeksbeforetheycouldstain.ThiswaswhathadgottenmeintroublewithJames—allthetimeshemadeitfeelsoreal,mademefeelsosafeandwanted.Itmadeitimpossiblenottotrusthim,tobelievehimwhenhesaidwehadafuturetogether
Andinthatmoment,Irealizedthatwaswhathadfuckedmeupthemost.
Itwasonethingtohearamanspurthisliesandknowthey’relies,tosmileattheminamusementthattheythoughttheycouldpulloneoveronyou.Butthepowerisstillinyourhandsthen,andyoucandetach.Youcanenjoythemomentknowingitwillend.Youcanletgobeforeyou’veevenstartedtoholdon.
Itwaswhentheywereconvincinglikethis,whentheymadeyousecond-guessifyouwerewrongaboutmen.Couldthisonebedifferent?Couldhecare?
Couldhebetheone?
Suckinginashutteringbreath,Idugmyheelsintomyeyesandinternallygroanedinfrustration.
Iwasbeingafool.
Wipingmynosewiththebackofmywrist,Ihastilyturnedtheshowerfaucetonandclimbedin,scrubbingmyskinlikeIcoulderadicatemyfeelingsfromtheoutsidein.
Itwasn’tlongbeforeVincejoinedme,andhewrappedmeupinhisarms,pullingmybacktohischestasIfoughtnottofeelanything,nottoletmybodyandmindandheartfloatawayinaballoonofhope.TellMeWhatYouFeel
Vince
TheplaneridehomefromCanadawasacircus.
We’dmanagedtosqueakoutawininovertimeagainstOttawa,whowerethenumberoneteaminourdivision.Anditdidn’tmatterthat,really,wedidn’tplayourbest,orthatwegotluckyonashotthattippedofftheirownplayer’sskateandgotustheW.
Wepartiedlikewe’djustwontheCup.
ItwasaSaturday,andithadbeenanafternoongame,soitwasjustpastninewhenwetoucheddowninTampa.Thenightwasyoung,itwastheweekend,wehadalatepracticethenextday,andwe’djustwonthegameeverysportscasterinthenationwassurewe’dlose.
Theenergywasuntouchable.
Jaxsonshotgunnedanotherbeerasthefronthalfoftheplanedebarked,smashingthecanonhisheadwhenhewasdone.Heshookhisheadwithhistonguehangingoutlikeadog,andthenstartedbarkingatMaven,whichmadeherthrowherheadbackinalaughinsuchacarefreewayitmademychesttight.
“Youguysareinsane!”sheyelledin-betweenpealsoflaughterjustasCarterstartedtwerkingontheseatinfrontofher.
“Comeon,Maven.Matchourenergy,”hegoadedher.
Shesnortedandwavedhimoff.“Idon’tthinkthat’spossible.”
“Thenightisyoung,weareyoung,andTampaiswaitingtocelebrateus,”Jaxsonsaid,grabbingMavenbythehandsandpullingherupreluctantlyfromherchair.“You’repartofthisteamnow.Timetoshowit.”
“AndexactlyhowdoyouproposeIdothat?”
Willsmirkedashegrabbedhershouldersfrombehindandgavethemalittlesqueeze.“Showusyourcellydance.”
“Mywhat?”
Theguyswhowerestillontheplanecheered,clappingandwhistlingbeforeCarterstartedachant.
Cel-lydance,cel-lydance.
Ourpilotplayedrightintoourhands,crankingthemusiconthestereosystem.Itwasaclubmixof“Ferrari,”andourcheersgrewlouderasMaven’smouthpoppedopeninanamusedsmile.
“Youbrutesaredreaming,”shesaidonalaugh.Hereyesfoundminethen,andImadeafakepoutyface,cluckingmytongue.
“Aw,Ithinkshe’sembarrassed,guys,”Isaid,crossingtheplaneuntilIwasbehindher.Irubbedhershoulders,brushingmythumbalongtheslopeofherneckandlovingthatImadechillsbreakoutwhenIdid.“It’sokay,Maven.Weknowyoucan’tdanceforshit.”
Theguyslaughedandmadeadeepooohhhhsound,watchingasMavennarrowedhereyesandlookedoverhershoulderatme.
“Isthatwhatyouthink?”
Ishrugged,eggingheron.“Provemewrong.”
Theteamstartedchantinghername,andshearchedabrow,breakingoutofmyholdwithadeterminednod.
UsingthehandCarterhadoutstretchedtohelpher,sheclimbedupontooneofthelargeleatherseats,andthenshestartedpumpingherfiststomaketheteamroarevenlouder.
Whenshehadtheirattention,shecastmeonelastwatchthislook,andshebrokeitdown.
Shewasgoofyatfirst,wavingherhandsintheairandbobbingherhead.Then,hershouldersshimmied,andshepointedatoneofourwingersbeforedoinghissignaturecelebrationdance—brushingoffhershoulderswithherbrowspinchedtogetherbeforeshepretendedtoshootabasket.Sheheldherhandsupinthelittleflickandweallwentwild
Onebyone,shepointedateachteammateandmimickedthem,whetherbydoingtheirdanceor,likeinDaddyP’scase,crossingherarmsandscowlinghardwhileimitatinghiscrouchedgoalieposition.
Mystomachwasinstitches,andjustwhenIthoughtshecouldn’tshockusallanymorethanshehad,shepointedrightatmewithawink.
Then,shebentinhalf,herhandsfindingtheleatheroftheseat.Shekickedonefootupbehindhertobalanceontheheadrest,andthentheother,untilshewasinvertedandstackingherhipsoverhershoulders.
Theplanequietedabitwithconfusedmurmurs,themusicgrowinginacrescendotowardthebeatdrop.Whenitdid,Mavenknockedusallonourasses.
Becauseshestartedshakinghers
Shetwerkedupsidedown,herassbouncingsidetoside,upanddown,andtheninacircleasshethrewittothebeat.Theteamwentabsolutelyapeshit,butwhenCarterwounduplikehewasgoingtosmackherass,Icaughthiswristbeforehecould,pinninghimwithaglare.
“Doyouwanttodietonight?”Iaskedhim.
Hejustlaughed,holdinghishandsupinsurrenderwhileheandJaxsonexchangedlooks.
Tryingtoplayitoffbeforetheycouldreadtoomuchintoit,IpickedMavenupandhauledherovermyshoulder,dancingusdowntheaisleandofftheplanewithherlittlefistsbeatingonmyback,andtheteamfollowingbehinduswithhootsandhollers.
Ididn’tdropheruntilwewereonthetarmac,andshecameupbreathless,laughingandsmackingmychest.
“Youinterruptedmycelly!”
“That’sbecauseitwasabouttogetmethrownoffmyteamandpossiblyinjail,too.”
Shegrinned,leaningforwardwithalittleshimmyofhershoulders.“What’swrong,VinceCool?Don’tlikeotherguyslookingatmyass?”
ShewaggledherbrowsasIleanedinandtiltedherchinupwithmyknuckles.“I’mgoingtospankthatasslater.”
“Promises,promises.”
Mavenwassolight,soplayfulinthatmomentthatIcouldn’thelpbutmirrorhersmile.
Iwantedtokissher.
Rightthen,rightthere,withoutafuckingcareintheworldwhosawus.Iwantedtokissheruntilshemeltedintomethewayshealwaysdid,untilshebeggedmetotakeherhome.
“SURPRISE!”
Ididn’trealizehowclosemylipsweretoMaven’suntilthesoundbrokethroughthehaze,andwebothjumpedawayfromeachother,snappingourheadsinthedirectionitcamefrom.
WhenIsawmyfamilystandingtherewithwide-openarms,myjawdropped.
“Mom?Dad?Grace?”Ishookmyheadindisbeliefastheycrowdedmeinagrouphug.“Whatthehellareyoudoinghere?”
“Weknewyouwouldn’tbeabletocomehomeforChristmaswithyourschedule,”Momsaid.
“So,MominsistedwebringChristmastoyou,”mylittlesisterfinished,rollinghereyes.“PreciousPrinceVince,alwaysthefavoritechild.”
Momnarrowedhereyes,butwealllaughedatthejoke,thesameoneGracehadmadeforyears.Mydadclappedmeontheshoulder,beaming,hischestpuffed.“Youlookgood,son.Damngood.Andwhatagame!”
Iwasstillinshockthattheywerethere,shakingmyheadasmyheartswelled.IfIwasn’tsurroundedbymyteammates,Iprobablywouldhavecried.It’dbeensolongsinceI’dseenthem,myfirstseasonintheNHLsweepingmeupandmakingitimpossibletogetbackuptoMichiganforavisit.Ithadbeenhardatfirstwithoutthem,butthenI’dbeensofocusedontheschedule,andmostrecently,onMaven.Ihadn’tstoppedlongenoughtorememberhowhomesickIwas.
Nowthattheywerehere,itwaslikeasighofrelief,adeepbreathIdidn’tknowIhadbeenneedingsodesperatelytotake.
Mymomanddadweredressedtoimpress,justlikealways,Mominapencilskirtandelegantblouse,andDadinslacksandasportscoat.Gracewasinasimplesundress,whichIknewshehadprobablybeensodesperatetowearthatsheputitonevenbeforetheyleftthefreezingcoldweatherinMichigan.Mysisterwasborntobeabeachbum,andIknewitwasjustamatteroftimebeforeshe’dleaveourhomestatebehindandfindrefugeinastatethatdidn’thaveawinter.WhereIwasathomeontheice,shewasathomeinthesun.
IsawmyownfeaturesstaringbackatmewhenIlookedatthem—theeyesIgotfrommymom,thesmileIgotfrommydad,thewaymysister’snosewasthesameblendofourparentsasminewas.
“Okay,youaresorude,”Gracesaid,flickingmeinthearmbeforeshebrushedpastme.ShesweptherlongblondehairoverhershoulderandwalkedrightuptoMaven.“Hi!It’ssonicetofinallymeetyou!Especiallyaftertheembarrassingamountoftimesyou’veseenmedance.”
Mavenseemedassurprisedasme,hereyesflickingtominebeforesheextendedherhandforGrace’s.“Trustme,you’rebetterthanIcouldeverbe.”
Gracedidn’tshakeMaven’shand.Instead,shegrabbedherinacrushinghug.
“Don’tletherlietoyou,”Cartersaid,poppingupoutofnowhereandgrabbingmyshouldersfrombehindashejoinedus.“Mavenjustrockedthatwholedamnplane.”
“Ohmy,Ibetthatwasquitetheshow,”Momsaid,smilingatMavennext.“I’mLorraine.Thisismyhusband,Derrick.”
“You,”Dadsaid,pointingatMavenbeforecrushingherinanevenmorepowerfulhugthanGracehad.“Areonetalentedlady.IdownloadedInstagrambecauseofyou.”
Gracegroanedlikeshewasembarrassed.
“Thevideosyoupost?”Momshookherhead,smiling.“Just…incredible!Doyoudoallthateditingyourself?Thewaytheclipsmatchuptothemusic?”
“It’scalledaReel,Mom,”Gracesaid.
“Well,whateveryoucallit,thisonehasturnedoursonintoasuperstar,”Dadbeamed.
Mavensmilednervously.“Oh,hedidthatallonhisown.”
Hereyesflittedtominethen,andmychestswelledinacompletelynewway
“We’vegotcarscoming,”Jaxsonsaid,runningovertojoinus.Hesmiledandintroducedhimselftomyfamily,andIdidn’tmisshowhenearlyswallowedhistonguewhenhemetmysister.
Icockedabrowathimwhenhestaredatheralittletoolong,andthengloweredwhenhisfaceturnedlikeI’dcaughthimdoingsomethinghewasn’tsupposedto.
Ihopedthatlooktoldhimnottogetanyideas,becauseIlovedJax,butI’dkillhimifhetriedsomethingwithmysister.
“Ithinkwe’regoingoutwithoutVinceCooltonight,”Cartersaid,noddingtowardJaxson.“Let’sgivehimspacetoenjoythefamilyreunion.”
“I’llhityouguysuplater,”Ipromised,butthewaytheysmirkedatMaven,thenmyfamily,andthenme—Iknewtheywouldn’tholdtheirbreathwaitingforthatcall.
Oncetheyweregone,Iturnedbacktomyfamily.
“Itwasnicetomeetyou,”Mavensaid.“I’mjustgoingto—”
“Comewithus.”
Icutheroffwiththerequest,andshefurrowedherbrows,tryingtocommunicatesomethingtomewiththatlookalonethatIcouldn’tdecipher.
Or,maybeIcould,butIchosetoignoreit.
“Yes,pleasedonotleavemealonewiththesethree,”Gracesaid,linkingherarmthroughMaven’s.“I’llbetheforgottenchildinthecorner.Atleastwithyouthere,I’llhavesomeonetotalktowhiletheyfussovertheirpreciousbabyboy.”
“Grace,”Momwarnedonasmile.Andthen,DadtookMom’shandinhisandstartedwalking,GracefollowingandtotingMavenrightalong.
Shelookedoverhershoulderatme,andIshrugged,smiling.
Itlookedliketherewasachangeofplans.
???
WewenttodinneratachicrooftoprestaurantontheRiverwalk,whichwasatGrace’srequest.AtMom’s,weendedupbackatmycondo,sheandmysisterfussingoverallmypottery,andevenmoreoverthegardenroomMavenhadbroughttolife.DadandItalkedwiththeESPNhighlightsoninthebackgrounduntilhewhippedupsomeofhisfamouscocktailsandweallendedupoutsideonthebalconyenjoyingthebalmyFloridanight.
Wetalkedandlaughedandsharedstoriesofthepast,mostofwhichmademegroanandhidemyfacebecausemyfamilywasalltooeagertotrytoembarrassmeinfrontofMaven.TheyseemedespeciallykeentotellheraboutthetimeIworemyunderwearonmyheadfortwoweeksbecausewewereonawinstreakatMichigan,andIwasconvincedthatwaswhy.
Throughitall,Mavenfitinlikeshewasalreadypartofthefamily.
Mymomallbutinterrogatedheratdinner,butnotinthewayshewouldifsheweresizingsomeoneup.ItwasmorelikeshewassogenuinelycuriousaboutMavenandeverythingthatshewasthatshejustcouldn’tstopasking.Shelitupwitheveryanswer,fascinatedbyMaven’supbringingandcareer.
Gracewasjustasbad,squealingwhenshefoundoutMavenlovedyogaandbegginghertotakehertoastudioforaclasswhiletheywereintown.ShealsotoldMavenrepeatedlyhowjealousshewasthatMaven’splacewassoclosetothebeach.
AndwhileDadwasquieterwithhisinterest,helovedhowquick-wittedMavenwas,howshevolleyedbackandforthwithmeandwithhim.Shemadehimbustagutmorethanoncethroughoutthenight,andwhenMaventoldhimwhatherplanswereoncethisassignmentwrappedup,Dad’seyesshonelikeshewashisowndaughter,andhehadarighttobeproud.
Hepeggedmewithacuriouslook,too—oneIcouldn’tbearforlongbeforeIlookeddownatmycocktailandtookalongpull.
Itwassurreal—havingthemthereinmynewhome,havingMaventherewithus.AndasmuchasIpretendedtobeannoyedwithallthequestionsmyfamilyaskedher,thetruthwasIlovedit—becauseIgottoknowmoreabouther,too.Andeverynewlittlestoryshetold,everypieceofherselfsherevealed?Itmademefeellikeagreedykidinacandystore.
Iwantedmoreofher.
Iwantedallofher.
ItwasalmostthreeinthemorningbythetimeGracedraggedmyyawningparentstowardthedoor.TheywerestayingatahotelontheRiverwalkjustafewblocksaway.
“Thankyouforchangingyourplansforustonight,son,”Dadsaid,clappingmybackinatighthug.“Hopewedidn’tcrampyourstyle.”
“Please,he’sgotnostyletobeginwith,”Gracesaid,butshehuggedmelikeshe’dmissedme,andIknewshehad.
“Itwasagreatsurprise,”Itoldthemearnestly.“HopefullyIcanshowyouaroundalittlebeforeyouhavetogo.”
“Weknowyou’rebusy,”Momsaid,yawningagainasItuckedherintomyside.“We’rejusthappytostealyouawayforwhateveryoucanmanage.”HereyeslituponasmileasshepulledawayfrommeandframedMaven’sarmswithherhands.“Andyou,younglady.Youarejust…sensational.Itwassolovelyspendingtheeveningwithyou.”
Mavenflushed.“You,aswell,Mrs.Tanev.”
“Iwanttomeettheseamazingparentsofyours.Let’sallhavealittlegettogether,yes?”Momlookedbackatmewiththequestion.
IglancedatMaven,whohadthestrangestlookonherfacethen—likeshewassickorsadorboth.
“We’llsee,Mom,”Isaid,guidingthemalltowardthedoor.
Everyonehuggedagain,andInoticedmydadspeakingtoMaveninalowvoicewhileGraceandMomaskedmeabouttheInternationalMallintown.Itriedtomakeoutwhathewassayingbuthadnoluck,andwhenhepattedMaven’sarmwithagrin,shesmiled,butthatsamesadlookwasetchedintoherexpression.
Mystomachtiedupinknotsatthesight.
Thegoodbyedraggedonfortwentyminutesbeforetheyweregone,andassoonasthedoorshut,silencefellovermeandMavenlikeacold,wetblanket.
Istoodtherewithmyhandontheknobforamomentbeforeswallowingandturningtofaceher.Shelookedasifshewereinadaze,hereyesunfocusedwheretheystaredatthefloorbetweenus
“Sorryaboutthat,”Isaid,rubbingthebackofmyneckwithasmile.“Theycanbealot.”
“They’relovely,”shewhispered.
Andthenhereyeswelledwithtears.
I’dneverseenherlikethat,neverwatchedasherfacewarpedandallthewallssheheldsofirmlyaroundhercrumbledintodust.Ittorethroughmychestlikeagunshot,seeinghersad,seeingherinpain.
“Mave,”Isaid,crossingtheroomtowhereshestood.Iwrappedherupinmyarms,whichmadehergostiffbeforeshesoftenedandgrippedontome,buryingherheadinmychest.Iheldhertightforalongtime,feelingtheairaroundusgrowingheavier,colder.
“What’swrong?”
Sheshookherhead,overandover,sniffingbeforeshepulledawayfromme.“I’mgoingtogo.It’slate.”
Iblinkedassheswipedthetearsfromherfaceandgrabbedherpurse.“What?You’releaving?”
“Youhavepracticetomorrow.Youshouldgetsomerest.”
Hervoicesoundeddetached,dead.
“Icanthinkofamorefunwaytoenergize,”Isaid,hopingthejokewouldmakeherlaugh,thatwecouldslipbackintotheplacewe’dbeenonthetarmacwhenshewasteasingmeandIwastryingnottokissherinpublic.
Instead,herfacewarped,andsheturnedawayfrommesoIwouldn’tseeasmoretearsbrokethrough.
“Hey,”Isaid,slippingmyfingertipsinthecrookofherelbow.Shewouldn’tlookatmeuntilItiltedherchinandgavehernochoice.“Talktome.”
Sheshookherhead,overandover,swipingfuriouslyatthetearsthatkeptcoming.Shewasthestrongest,moststubbornwomanIknew—andshewascrying.
Itfuckingwreckedme.
Iliftedmyhandstotaketheplaceofhers,thumbingawayeachtear,andthatmadehersobbeforeshovingmeaway.“Stop,”shepleaded,thewordcroakingoutlikeitpainedher.
“Tellmehowtohelp.”
“Stoplookingatmelikethat,stoptouchingme,stop…”Sheburiedherfaceinherhands.
Ididn’tdarereachforheragain.
Afteralongmoment,sheletherhandsfalltoherthighs,hereyespitifulwhentheyfoundmine.“Wecan’tdostufflikethis,Vince,”shewhispered,lickingthetearsfromherlips.“Becausewhenwedo,I…Ifeellike…”
Myheartstoppedinmychestbeforefiringbacktolifewithathunderouskick.“Youfeellikewhat,Maven?”Iasked,nostrilsflaringasItookasteptowardher.“LikeIloveyou?”
Hereyessnappedtomine,wideandterrified.
“LikeIamcompelledbyyou,byeverythingthatyouare,byhowyouhaveannihilatedwhateverversionofmylifeexistedbeforeyou?”
“Don’t,”shewhispered,butIcouldn’tstopnow.
Iclosedthelastofthedistancebetweenus,grabbingherhandandforcingittomychest.“Doyoufeelmeholdingontightereverytimeyou’reinmyarms?Doyoufeeltimeslippingawaytoofastwhenwe’retogether?”Myjawtightenedwithrestraintagainsttheemotionstranglingmythroat.“Doyoufeelmyheartfuckingbreakingatthethoughtoflosingyou?Isthatwhatyoufeel,Maven?”
Herchinwobbled,twosilenttearsstreakingdownhercheeks.
“Lookatme,”Ibegged,andwhenshedid,Isworetheworldstoppedspinning,waitingforustogiveitthecuethatwewerereadyagain.“Tellmewhatyoufeel.”
Hereyelidsfluttered,cheeksglisteningunderthesoftlight,buthergazedidn’twaver.
“LikeIwanttobelieveyou,”sheadmittedsoftly.
Hopeflitteredthroughmyribcage.
“AndlikeI’dendupbrokenifIactuallydid.”
Herwordsslammedintome,knockingmybreathfrommychestlikeahardcheckagainsttheboards.
Thiswasn’thertalking.IknewitlikeIkneweveryplayintheOsprey’splaybook.Thiswastheremnantsoftheonewhocamebeforeme,theonewhoscarredher,whomadeherfeellikeshecouldn’ttrustanotherman.
Likeshecouldn’ttrustherself.
Iopenedmymouth,butcloseditagain,shakingmyhead.Ididn’tsayanything.
WhatelsecouldIsay?
“Ihavetogo.”Hervoicetrembledwiththewords,moretearssearinghercheeksasshetorehergazefrommine.Shebrushedpastmeandrippedthedooropen,slidingthroughitandtuggingitshutbehindherbeforeIcouldsomuchasblink.
Sheleft.
AndIhadnochoicebuttolether.BreakShit
Maven
FourdaysbeforeChristmas,theOspreyshadtheirlasthomegamebeforetheholiday.Itwasgoingtobemylastgamewithfullaccess,mylastassignmentbeforeeverythingwrappedup.ReyaandCamillawerereadyformetotacklewhatcamenext,andtheOsprey’sGMdidn’twantanydistractionsfortheteamastheyheadedintothesecondhalfoftheseasonand,hopefully,towardplayoffs.
Thiswasit.We’dhadourfun,andnow,itwastimeforlifetogobacktonormal.
IshouldhavebeenwithVince,butinstead,Iwascurledupinthefetalpositiononmycouchwithmyheadinmybestfriend’slap.
IthadbeenallIcoulddotoshowupforthemorningskate,topostafewclipsofcontentandthenduckoutbeforeIbrokedowninfrontoftheentireteam.WhenCoachMcCabehadaskedifIwasokay,I’dnearlylostit.
TheworstpartwasthatVincelookedjustasmiserableasIdid.
Andthatwasmyfault.
Ihadn’tjustlefthiscondoafterthatnightwespentwithhisfamily.I’dleftthebuilding,too.I’dpackedmybelongingsandmovedbackhome.
AndI’dbarelyseenVincesincethen.
TheonlycontentIpostedwasofhimattherink,whereIfeltlikeIcouldtakesomephotosandvideosandthenquicklygetaway.
AndanytimeIdidseehim,Ilosttheabilitytobreathe.
Iwassosick,mystomachindreadfulknots,lungsoperatingatlowcapacityasifIhadaboxofbricksonmychest.Fromtheoutsidein,itallseemedsosimple—Vincehadcaughtfeelings,andIknewIhad,too.AllIhadtodowastellhimthatIfeltthesameandwecouldbetogether.
ButIcouldn’tdoit.
ItwasliketryingtoconvincemyselftojumpoutofanairplanewhenIhadagutfeelingmyparachutewouldn’twork.Itwaslikesomeoneelsetellingmeit’sfinetotakeastep,butI’mblindfolded,andwhenIhovermyfoot,I’mjustcertainthere’sacliffthere,andthatI’lltumbleoffitandtomydeath.
Iwasfrozeninplace,fright-stricken,tryingtosurvivebyjuststayingstill.
“Ihateseeingyouthisway,”Liviasaidsoftly,butIjerkedasifshe’dscreamed.We’dbeensilentforsolong,herplayingwithmyhairwhileIcriedquietly.
“Iknow.”
“Youlovehim,too.”
Isqueezedmyeyesshut,andhowmoretearsfoundtheirwayout,I’dneverknow.Icouldn’tbelievehowmuchI’dcried.IthadtobeaGuinnessWorldRecordbynow.MyeyesweresoswollenIwassurprisedIcouldevenseeatall
“Youdo,”Liviarepeated,smoothingahandovermyhair.“Babe,whyareyoutorturingyourself?”
“Youknowwhy.”
Shesighed.“Okay,yes,Ido,but…”Shepausedlikeshewasgatheringherthoughts.“Iftherewaseveratimetomoveforward,orapersontomoveforwardwith—isthisnotit?”
“Livia,Jamesbrokeme,”Isaid,pushingupsoIcouldlookherintheeyes.Ihatedhowmyvoicetrembled.“ButVince?He…hecouldkillme.”
“Orhecouldbringyoubacktolife.”
Irolledmylipstogether,tastingthesaltytearsthere.
“You’rescaredofbeinghurtagain,”shesaid,myfacewarpingasshedid.“Andthat’sokay,that’snormal,”sheassuredme,coveringmyhandwithhers.“Andtruthfully,Icannotpromiseyouthatitwon’thappen.Noonecan,notevenVince.That’swhat’ssofuckedupaboutrelationships,aboutlove.Wegiveourselves,wetrust,andthenwegethurt.Wewonderwhyweeverdidthat,wehateeveryoneforawhile,until…wedon’t.Untilwemeetsomeone,andwelaughagain,andwefeelagain,andwestarttowonderifwecanfallinloveagain.Sowedo.”Shelaughedalittle.“Andthen,theyfuckusoverorwefuckthemoverandwe’rerightbacktosquareone.”
“Soyoudogetit.”
Shesqueezedmyhand.“Ido.Butlisten,youwanttoknowthedifferencebetweenthepeoplewhoendupaloneandtheoneswhoendupwiththeloveoftheirlife?”Sheleanedinonasmile.“Theformerneveropenthemselvesuptoloveagainbecausethey’retooafraidofthepainthatmightcomewithit.Andthelatterunderstandthatloveisworthit,andthatthey’restrongenoughtosurvivewhatevercomesbeforetheyfindit.”
Inodded,eyesbubblingoveragain.“Youdorealizehowstupidthatsoundscomingfromsomeonewhohastoldmedozensoftimesthatloveisaconstruct,right?”
“Yeah,well,I’mnotyou,”shesaid,quicklywavingmeoff.“Igetmykicksindifferentways.Butbabygirl,youareinlove.AndifIwaseverinyourshoes,I’dwantyoutosmackmeandshakemeuntilIsawitandlistenedtoyou,too.”
“Youhaven’tsmackedmeyet.”
“I’mclose.”
Ichuckled,leaningmyheadonhershoulderandthinkingaboutthenightIspentwithVinceandhisfamily.Theyweresolovely,sodifferentfromJames’sthatithadknockedmeforaloop.WithJames,hemademefeellikewewereinvincible,buthisfamilyonlymademefeellikeabugthatneededtobesquashed.Vince’sfamilyonlyspentafewhourswithme—onenight—andsomehow,theymademefeellikeI’dbeeninthefamilyforyears,likeIbelongedtherewiththem.
ThewordshisdadhadsaidtomebeforetheyleftmademoretearspoolinmyeyesasIrecalledthem.
“Iwonderedwhenmyboywouldgivehishearttosomeone.I’mgladhewaitedforyou.”
Squeezingmyeyesshut,thetearswerereleased,mybottomlipquivering.
“Iwantto,youknow,”Iwhispered.“Trusthim.Jumpin.Try.Ijust…Ifeelfrozen.Ifeel…scared.I’msofuckingscared,Livia.Ican’tsleep,Ican’teat,andthesickestpartofmekeepssayingit’sbettertofeelthisnowthanlater,thatlosinghimtodaywillbeeasierthanayeardowntheline.”
“Probablytrue.Butwhatifyoudidn’thavetolosehimatall?”ShenudgedhershoulderupuntilIliftedmyheadandlookedather.“Whatifhestayed?Whatifyoumadeit?”
Icoveredmyheartwhereitflutteredatthethought.“Ifeltthiswayoncebefore,youknow.IthoughtIwasgettingmarried,Ithoughtwewouldbetogetherforever.”Ishookmyhead.“Ithinkthatpartofmeisbrokennow.Idon’tknowhowtoaccessit.”
Liviafrowned,andwewerebothquietforalongmomentbeforehereyeswidenedandshelitup.“Oh,myGod.I’magenius.”
ShejumpedupfromthecouchbeforeIcouldaskwhatthehellshemeant,andthensheranbacktomybedroom.Iheardherrummagingthroughsomething,andthenacursebeforealoudthumprangout.
“Liv?”Icalled,draggingmyassoffthecouchtogogether.ButshesweptthroughthelivingroombeforeIhadthechance,afamiliarboxtuckedunderherarmasshegrabbedmywristandtuggedmetowardtheslidingglassdoorthatledtomybackyard.
“Comeon.”
“Livia,whatareyoudoingwiththat?”Mychestwaseventighternowinthepresenceofthebox.
“I’mnotdoinganything,”shesaid,ploppingitonmyoutdoortable.Shetorethelidopen.“Youare.”
“Wha—”
“Here,”shesaidbeforeIcouldaskanything,takingoutthefirstitemshefoundandshovingitintomyhand.
Ifrozethemomentittouchedmyskin.
Itwasagolfball,neonorange,fromoneofmyfirstdateswithJames.We’dgoneputt-putting,himshowingoffandmelettinghimbecauseIlikedthathewantedtoshowoffforme.Attheendofthenight,he’ddrawnablackheartontheballhe’dwonwith,andI’dkeptitinmypurseforlongerthanI’deveradmit.
“Okay…”Isaid,staringatit.
“Throwit.”Liviasaid,pointingacrossmyyardtowardwheremycompostbinwas.“Orstomponitorlightitonfireorgetasledgehammeranddestroyit.”
“Asledgehammer?”
“Listentome,”shesaid,grabbingmyshouldersinherhands.“You’vecriedoverthisfucker.You’vegonetotherapy.You’vepickedyourselfupandyou’vestartedbuildingacareerandyou’vemovedon.Butyoucan’tletgoofhim,ofwhathedidtoyou,untilhe’snolongertakingupanyspace.Notinyourhead,yourheart,orthisstupidboxyoukeepshovedinthetopcornerofyourcloset.”ShepulledoutapictureframeofmeandJamesnext,pressingitintomychest.“It’stimetobreakshit,bitch.”
Assoonasthewordslefthermouth,shepulledoutherphoneandthumbedthroughituntilLimpBizkitwasplayingthatexactsongshe’djustreferenced,andshegavemeanodofencouragement,boppingherheadtothebeat.
“Livia,thisis—”
“BREAKSHIT,BITCH.”
Iletoutalongsigh,becauseIdidnotseehowthiswasgoingtofixanythingatall.ButItooktheframefromheranyway,andwhenIlookeddownatit,Ipaused.
ItwasaphotoofmeandJamesatthebeach,myheadonhisshoulder,hisarmswrappedaroundme,bothofussmiling.Thatwasthenighthe’daskedmemyringsize.We’dspenttheweekendwithfriends,anditwasoneofthoseperfectkindofweekendswhentheweatherisgorgeous,andthedaysarelongandlazy,andthenightsarehotandwild.Itfeltlikeaturningpointinmylife.ThemanIlovedhadaskedformyringsize,andwewerejokingabouthowmanykidswewanted.
Forsolong,IlookedatthatphotoandfeltmystomachachewithhowhappyI’dbeeninthatmoment,withhowscaredIwasI’dneverbethathappyagain.
Butlookingatitnow,Ionlythoughtonething.
He’snotVince.
Itfeltwrong,toseemeinanotherman’sarms.IthoughtaboutthepictureVincetookofusontheboat,andIcomparedmysmileinthatonewiththeoneIstaredatnow.
Ididn’tevenrecognizeheranymore,thegirlonthebeach.
ButIknewthegirlontheboat.
Ishivered.
ThelongerIstaredatthephotographinmyhands,themoreupsetIbecame.Ididn’twanthisarmsaroundme,becausetheyweren’tVince’s.Itwas…gross.Itwasdisturbed.Itwasnotokay.Itwaswrongineverypossibleway.
Andthatmademelaugh.
Itwasashortlaughatfirst,onethatbubbledoutofmychest.ButthenIwascackling,shakingmyheadastearsfromlaughingfilledmyeyesthistime.
“Oh,God,”Liviasaid,blinkingasshesteppedawayfrommewithherhandsraised.Thesongplayedout,thelyricscallingtomewhilemybestfriendstaredatmelikeapsycho.“DidIofficiallypushyouovertheinsanityline?”
“No,”Imanagedthroughanotherfitoflaughter,wipingtearsfrommyeyes.“I…Ithinkyoujustsavedme.”
Iranahandoverthephotograph,shakingmyhead.HowdidIeverthinkthatwasjoy?HowdidIeverseehimasforever?
WhatJamesandIhadwaslove,yes—itwasimportantinitsownway.Hedidmakemesmile,andIdidfeelsafewithhimuntiltheverymomentIdidn’t.
ButGod,comparinghimtoVince,comparinghowIfeltwithJameswithhowIfeelnow?
Itwaslaughable.
Literally.
Vincepushedme.Hechallengedmeandmademewanttobespontaneous,tobefree,tobemore.Ifeltalivewithhim—notjustwhenweweretangledinthesheets,butanytimeweweretogether.Hewasquicktoteaseme,andIlovedthathedid.Henevershutmeout.He’dbeenopenfromthefirstmomentI’dwalkedthroughhisdoorwithmycameraintow.
Iwantedtowalkahundredriverwalkswithhim.Iwantedtobeateverygame.Iwantedtowatchhimcreateathispotterywheelandwatchhimdestroyontheice.Iwantedtolaughanddanceandplay,andknowthatnomatterwherewewentorwhatwedid,hewouldbethere,protectingme,takingcareofme,lovingme.
Itossedthegolfballupinmyhand,takingonelastlook,andthen,IheaveditwithallmymightjustasFredDurstscreamedmotherfucker
Ididn’tevenwatchwhereitwent,becauseinthenextbreath,Ithrewtheframedownontheconcreteandwatcheditsplinter,theglassshatteringwiththemostsatisfyingsound.
“FuckYES!”Liviasaid,andthenshehandedmethenextvictim—aticketstubfromwhenwewenttothezoo.
Itoreitinhalf.
“AGAIN!”Shecheered,wigglingherhipswithafistpumpbeforeanothermementowastossedmyway.Itwasasnowglobewithabeachinsideit.He’dboughtitformeasabirthdaygift.
Ididn’tevenlikesnowglobes.
IsmasheditwithsomuchjoyIlaughedlikeamadwoman.
“FINISHHIM!”LiviabellowedinadeepvoicetryingtomimictheoldMortalKombatvideogame,andthenIhadanotherframeinmyhandonlylongenoughtoheaveitupandthrowittotheground.
Pieceafterpiece,objectafterobject,pictureafterpicture,wedestroyedeveryiteminthatboxwhile“BreakStuff”playedonrepeat.Lovenotes,photographs,Christmasornaments,books,jewelry,olddriedflowers—noneofitwassafe.AndeachtimeItouchedsomethingnew,IfeltwhatlittleofJamesIwasholdingontotearawaymoreandmore,untilthelastshredofhimwaseradicatedwiththesatisfyingbreakingofanecklace,thebeadsonitflyingeverywhereandskitteringacrosstheconcrete.
Whenweweredone,Iwaspanting,smiling,andLiviahigh-fivedmelikeaproudmother.
“Goodjob,bitch,”shesaid,smackingmybutt.“Now,getyourshittogether,getyourprettyassdressed,andgo.Get.Your.Man.”Stained
Vince
“Alright,stayonhim,stayonhim!Skate,skate!”
Icalledouttoourguysontheicealongwiththerestoftheteamonthebench,chuggingwaterandtryingtocatchmybreath.Myeyesskirtedtothescoreboard,hearthammeringinmychest.
Weweretiedtwo-twowithlessthantenminutesleftinthelastperiod.
Bothofthosegoalsweremine.
Itwasanexplosivegameforarookie,andIknewthat’sallthecommentatorswouldbetalkingaboutregardlessofhowthisoneturnedout.Butinternally,theteamfeltsomethingcompletelydifferent.
Everyoneonthatbenchwithmeandeveryoneoutontheiceknewsomethingwaswrong.
Ididn’tmissthewaythey’deyedmeoverthelastfewdays,howthey’dtiptoedaroundme,avoidingallconversation.Coachdidn’taskifIwasokay,andmyteammatesdidn’tpokemeforinformation,either.
Becausemyheartwasbrokenandbleeding,butIwasmorefocusedonhockeythanIhadbeenallseason.
Ithrewmyallintoit.Ispentallmytimeattherink—skating,biking,recovering,stretching,sleeping.WhateverIcoulddohere,Ididit.
Andtonight,whenweskatedoutforthefirstperiod,Ilostmyselfintheoneconstantinmylife.
Ijustwisheditwasenough.
BothgoalsIscoredfeltlikenothing.Ididn’tgetthezipofaccomplishmentIusuallydid.Ididn’tdoacellydanceorchirpatthegoalieorgiveanykindofreactiontotheroarofthecrowd.Forthefirsttimeinmylife,Ifeltnumbontheice.
ItscaredmealmostasmuchasthethoughtthatI’dactuallylostMaven.
WatchingWillatthegoal,Iwonderedifthiswashowhefelt,ifthiswaswhyhewasalwayssoquiet,sosevereandfocused.Iwonderedifhethrewhimselfintohockeysohewouldn’thavetimetothinkaboutthelossofhiswife.
Mystomachroiled,andIthoughtImightactuallypukethereonthebench.OneofthetrainersranovertocheckonmewhenIgagged,butIwavedthemoff,assuringthemIwasfine.MyeyeslockedonCoach’snext,begginghimtocallthelinechangesoIcouldgetbackin.
Whenweclearedthepuckoutofourzone,Coachnodded,andIwasalreadyjumpingtheboardsastheotherlineskatedovertothebench.
Assoonasmyskateshittheice,Ifeltcalmer,steadier,lesslikeIwasabouttospinoutoforbitandfloatoffintospace.Thaticegroundedme,thethrumofthecrowdhumminginmyveinsasIsprintedtowardthepuck.IslammedintoRyanCrosby,heavingusbothintotheboardswherewebattledforthepuckuntilIstoleitaway.
Then,Iwasskatingdowntheice.
Ipassedtoourcenter,runningaplaythatIknewwouldgetmeinscoringposition.AssoonasIwaslinedup,heshotthepuckbacktome.
ButbeforeIcouldtakeaswing,Iwastripped.
Ifeltthestickcatchmyankle,felthowmyfeetwerepulledupfromundermewithoutachanceinhellofmesavingit.Islammeddowntotheice,mybreathknockedoutofmetotheroaringdisapprovalofthecrowd.
Theboosintensifiedwhentherefdidn’tcallthefoul.
Ijumpedup,grittingmyteethbeforeIlaidintohim.“Needtoborrowmycell,ref?Yougotafewmissedcalls.”
Heignoredme,whichwasparforthecourse,andnormallyIwouldhaveshakenitoff.
Butnothingabouttonightwasnormal
Beforesensecouldsetin,Iskatedhardandfastdowntheicetowardtheplayerwhohadtrippedme,andIshovedhimintotheglasssohardtheentirestadiumletoutacollective,“Oh!”
Crosbywasthefirstonetoswingatmewhenhesawhisteammateknockedtotheice,andthenwewereallfighting,thecrowdcheeringaswewhaledoneachotheruntiltherefspeeledusapart
Whentheydid,Iwasbeingsteeredtowardthepenaltybox.
Coachgavemeasternlookwhentheytossedmein,andIkickedthesideoftheboardsbeforeslammingmystickagainsttheglasssohardIwonderedifI’dcrackedit.
Isatdownfurious,stewing,glancingattheclockandcursingwhenIsawweonlyhadsixminutesleft.Twoofthoseminuteswouldbeapowerplayforouropponentsnow.
Icrackedmyneckasthepuckwasdroppedandthepowerplaybegan.Ourfanschantedandcheered,givingtheirsupporttothefourplayerswehadontheicetryingtodefendthepost.DaddyPwasanabsoluteweapon,blockingeveryshotthatcameclose.
Iwatchedfromthesinbinwithmyeyeslosingfocus,brainfuzzyandinadaze.Iwasn’tontheice,andIfeltthatnumbnesscreepinginagain,threateningtodrownme,totakemeunderandneverletmeupforair.
Iglancedupattheclock,andthendownatthebenchacrosstheice,hopingtolockeyeswithoneofmyteammatesandgetthereinforcementIneededtopullmebacktothegame.
Instead,IfoundMaven.
Timesluggedtoastoplikeanoldtrain,everynoisethatmadethecollectiveroarofthearenafadingoutpiecebypiece.Firstitwasthescreams,andthenthestickshittingtheice,theskates,thechirps,untilnothingexistedbutmyheartbeat.
Itwasunsteadyandloudinmyears,myribcagerestrictingeverybreathasIblinked,wonderingifIwasimaginingherthere.Whenshehadn’tshownbythesecondperiod,Iwassosureshewouldn’tshowatall.
Buthereshewas—eyesredandswollenunderthemakeupshe’dtriedtocoverthemwith.Evenstill,shewasbreathtaking.
Shestoodattheendofthebench,half-hiddenbehindthethickglassthatledbacktoourlockerroom.Herhairwastiedatthenapeofherneck,anOspreyshatpulledovertop.EvenfromacrosstheiceInotedthefrecklesonhercheeks,theonesIhadmappedoutatthispointfromallthemorningsI’dtracedthelinesbetweenthemasshesleptnexttome.
Andshewaswearingmyjersey.
Itwasn’tjustmyjersey,either—itwasthejersey,theonestillmarkedbymyclayhandprints.
Possessionrippedthroughmychestatthesight,atmyteam’slogosprawledacrossherchestandmynumberstitchedontothesleeves.Iknewwithoutseeingherturnaroundthatitwasmynameacrossthetopofherback,too.
Itwasadeclarationwithoutawordbeingsaid.ItwashertellingmewhatIwassureI’dneverhear.Itwaseverygut-wrenchinghourofthepastfewdayserasedinasinglesecond.
Myeyesskatedoverthatjersey,overherchestandshouldersandtheexposedskinofhercollarbone,too.Itookmytime,gazelingeringonherlipsuntilIfoundhereyesoncemore.
Hersmilewassoftandtentative,andsheshrugged,lookingdownatthejerseybeforeshecaughtmyeyesagain.
Shewashere.
Shewasmine
IknewitlikeIknewicewascold.Iknewjustbyherpresence,byherwearingthatjersey,bythewayherbrowsbenttogetherasshewatchedmefromacrosstherink.
Now,mysolefocuswasonendingthisgameandgettingherinmyarms.
Timeandsoundandenergysnappedbackallatonce,likeIhadjustkickedmywayabovethetreacherouswavesandsuckedinmyfirstbreath.Therewereeightsecondsleftinthepowerplay,andassoonastheytickeddowntozero,thecrowderupted.
We’dkilledthepenalty.
Ikickedthroughtheboxdoorandflewoutontotheice,joiningmyteamastheybattledagainstouropponents’advance.AndIwastednotime,stealingthepuckandsendingitdowntotheothersideoftherinkasweallchasedafterit.
Thenumbnesswasgone.EverycellinmybodybuzzedtolifewithMaveninthatarena,withhereyesonme,withmyjerseyhangingoffhershoulders.Throughallthenoise,Iheardherscreammyname,heardhercheersrisingoutabovetherest.
MylegsburnedasIskatedfastandfuriousdowntheice.Thetwo-minuteresthadmefeelingstrongerthanIhadallgame,andIblockedanyplayerwhotriedtocheckmeorstealthepuck.Iwaslaser-focused—apass,ashotattempt,asteal,apass.Wewreakedhavocontheirgoalieaftertwominutesofthemdoingthesametous.
Andinaslow-motionmomentofclarity,Isawanopening.
Idangledplayersonmyteamandtheirs,passingthepucktoCarterlongenoughformetoskatethroughtheirdefense.Hesentitbacktomewithperfecttimingforabeautifulslapshot.
Iwoundupandslammedithome,thepuckzippingrightpastthegoalie’shelmetandintothetoprightofthenet
Theexplosionfromthecrowdwasdeafening.Thebuzzerdidn’tjustsoundandcutoff,itrangon,likesomeoneintraffictryingtomakeapointbylayingontheirhornforafullminute.Itmademyearsringasmyteammatestackledme,allofusscreamingandjumpingandclingingtoeachother.Inthenextbreath,hatsraineddownontheice.
ItwasmyfirsthattrickintheNHL
Theyflewfromtheraftersandfrombehindtheglass,too.Somefanseventhrewtheirstuffedanimalfishes,asignaltotheotherteamthateventhoughtherewereminuteslefttoplay,ourfansweresurewe’dwin.Itwasallwecoulddotosidestepthetoysandthehatsaswecelebrated.
ButIsmiledthemoretheyraineddown,becausethatmeantmoretocleanup
Andthatmeantplaywouldstop.
Breakingoutofthehuddleofmyteammates,Imadeabeelineforthebenchasthecrowdroaredtheirthunderousapproval.Idodgedhatseverystepoftheway,myeyeslockedonMaven,whowasstilljumpingandscreamingandcelebrating,too.
Ijumpedtheboardswithmyteammatesstillonthebenchclappingmeontheshoulders,butIshovedpastthem,pastcoach,pastthetrainersandeveryoneelse.IdroppedmystickandrippedoffmyhelmetjustintimetoslideupinfrontofMaven.
“I’lltakethat,”Isaid,swipingthehatoffherhead.Iplaceditbackwardonmyown,andthenIsweptherintomyarmsandkissedher.
ItwasthedeepestbreathI’dtakenindays,mylungsfillingthemselvesgreedilyasIheldmylipstohers.Maventhreadedherarmsaroundmyneck,holdingmetoherasifIwaseverlettinggonow,andthecrowdgrewtoadecibelthatcouldpermanentlydamageeardrums.Ifistedmyhandsinherjersey,kissingherdeeper,myheartslowlymeldingbacktogether.
Iwaswholeagain.
“You’rehere,”Iwhisperedagainstherlips,breakingthekissonlylongenoughtosaythembeforeIwasclaimingheragain.
“I’mhere.”Shegrippedmydamphairinherhands,pressingherforeheadtomine.“I’msosorry,Vince.I’msorryIran.I’msorryI’mlikethis.”
“Stop.”Ishookmyhead,kissinghersilent.“It’snotyourfault.Andfortherecord,Istillwanttomurderthatpieceofshitformakingyoufeelthisway.”
“Don’tworry,Ibeatyoutoit.”
Icockedabrow,pullingbacktolookdownather.“Youkilledhim?Shit,”Isaid,lookingaroundandholdingherheadtomychest.“Maybeweshouldn’tpullstuntsthatwillhaveyouallovernationaltelevisionrightnow.”
Shelaughedagainstmychest,swattingatitbeforeherglossyeyeswerepeeringupatme.“Ikilledtheholdhestillhadonme,”shesaid.“Ikilledthefear.”
“I’malittlescared,too,youknow.”
“Wrapitup,Tanev!”IheardCoachyell,andIdidn’tturnaround,butIguessedtheywereclosetodonewiththehatcleanupontheice.Ialsodidn’thavetoglanceuptoknowthateveryphoneinthatarenawaspointedrightatwhereIheldMaven,wheresheheldme.
“You?”Shelaughed.“Why?”
“BecauseI’veneverfeltthiswayforanyone,”Iconfessed,thumbingherjaw.“I’vebeenfuckingsick,Mave.I’vebeennumb.Youseethesemarks?”Iaskedher,grippingtheclay-coveredspotsofherjersey.“Thisishowyou’vestainedme.You’reeverywhere.Doyouknowhowterrifyingitisthatyouhavethatmuchpoweroverme,thatwithoutyou,notevenhockeymakesmefeelalive?”
“Ido.Idoknowwhatthatfeelslike.That’sthewholereasonIran.”Sheswallowed.“Whatifwefuckitallup?”
“Wewon’t.”
“Whatifwedo?”
Ishrugged.“Well,thenIguessthere’snooneI’dratherletruinmeforanyoneelse.”Iframedherfaceinmyhands,thumbingawayatearwhenitsliddownhercheek.“Givemeyourheart.”
“It’salreadyyours,”shesaid,climbingme,crushingmetoher.“Please,don’tbreakit.”
“Never,”Ipromised.
Ikissedheragaintoanotherchorusofwhistlesandcheersfromthecrowd,bothofusinhalingtheotherandholdingonfordearlife.Icouldhavestayedthereforever.
Buttherewerestillthreeminuteslefttoplay.
“NOW,FORTY-ONE,”Coachsaid,andthesternnessinhisvoicetoldmethat—hattrickornot—myasswasgoingtobegrassifIdidn’tcomply.
“Go,”Maventoldme,pushingagainstmychest.
“Thatwasforyou,bytheway,”Isaid,pullingthehatoffmyheadandtuggingitdownonhersagain.Ibackedupwithawinkassheshookherheadatme,andthensomeonehandedmemyhelmetandmystick,andIjoinedmyteammatesonthebenchjustintimeforthepucktodrop.
Coachstaredatmelikehewasgoingtoendmylife,butthenhesmirked,shakinghisheadbeforefoldinghisarmsoverhischestasheturnedhisattentiontotheice.IknewI’dbepayingformystunt,buteverydrill,everylap,everyminuteofpainwouldbeworthit.
Mykneesbounced,eyesontheicebutfocuscompletelyobliteratednow.Ijustneededmyteamtoholdforafewmoreminutes.Ineededthisgametobeover.
IneededMavenbackinmyarms,inmybed.
Coachcalledforalinechangewithsixtysecondsleft,justasouropponentspulledtheirgoalie.Itwasallhandsondecktodefendagainstthem.Willbattedeveryshotattemptaway,andtherestofusservedasafirstandsecondlineofdefense,doingeverythingwecouldtoholdthescore.
Andwedid.
Theytriedwiththeirlastshredofdesperationtohitusatthefinalbuzzer,butDaddyPdroppedhiskneestogetherandcoveredthepuckwithhisglove
Andthatwasit.
Wewon.
IsweptMavenbackintomyarmsthemomentthefinalbuzzersounded.Kaleidoscope
Maven
Icouldstareatthatman’shandsfortherestofmylife,anditwouldstillnotbelongenough.
Thosehands,theonesthatscoredthreegoalstonight,theonesthatheldmetohiminacrowdoftwenty-thousandpeople,theonesthatturnedclayintoart,thattransformedmefromhardandguardedtosoftandsurrendering—theywereadrug.
Andrightnow,thosehandswereholdingaphotoofmeandLiviaafterhergraduationfromdentalschool,histhumbsmoothingovertheglassasawidesmilespreadonhislips.
“Ibetyoutwowerehellonwheels,”hesaid.
“Stillare.”
Hechuckled,hisheadbobbingsidetosidelikeheknewthatalltoowell.Whenhesetthephotographdown,hetuckedhishandsintohispocketsandkeptwalking,takinginthesurroundings.
ItwasthefirsttimeI’dhadhiminmyhome,anditfeltalmostmoreintimatethanwhenIhadhiminsideme.Istoodatthedoorwithmykeysclutchedinmyhands,nervouslyfidgetingwiththeringsasIwatchedhim.
Myphonewasinmypocket,buzzinglikecrazywithnotificationsIwasn’tsureI’dwanttosee.Afterwhathappenedatthearena,Icouldonlyimaginehowwewereblowingup.Strangershadbeenmakingassumptionsaboutusformonths,eversincethatnightVincepostedthephotoofusinBaltimore.Now,theyhadthoseassumptionsprovenright.
TheonlytextsI’dreadweretheonesfrommyparents,Livia,andmybosses.
Momwasexcited,thoughstillabitwary—whichwasfair,allthingsconsidered.
Dadwasdemandingafullbackgroundcheckandaone-on-onetalkwithVince.Poorguy.
Liviapoppedabottleofchampagneandsentmeavideoofhersippingthebubbliesinmyhonor.
AndReyaandCamillasentsomanyemojis,myphonenearlybroketryingtoprocessthemall.Theywereexcited,tosaytheleast,andthelasttextIsawfromCamillastatedthatVinceandIwereallovertheInternet.
Idecidedthat,atleastfortonight,Ijustwantedittobeus.
So,IpulledmyphonefrommypocketandpowereditdowncompletelybeforeturningmyattentionbacktoVince.
Hewasquietashestudiedthesurroundings,studiedme.Hepacedmylivinganddiningareabeforedisappearingdownthehall,andIfollowedhimbacktomybedroom,wherehissmiledoubled.HeranhisfingertipsoveroneofthecrochetedplantholdersI’dmade,brushingtheleavesofthepothosbeforehemovedovertothebed.Hefloppeddownontoit,themattressbouncingwithhisweightasheinhaledadeepbreath.
“God,everythingsmellslikeyou.”
“Ihopethat’sagoodthing,”Isaid,finallyrelinquishingmyholdonthekeys.Iplacedthemontopofmydresserandcarefullysatonthecornerofthebed.
Vincewassprawledoutlikeastarfish.HecrookedagrinatwhereIsatwithanarchedbrow.“ScaredI’llbite?”
“Maybe.”
Icouldn’texplainit,butIwasnervous—asifIhadn’tbeeninabedwithVincedozensoftimesbeforethis.Myheartwasracing,mybreathsshallow,headlight.
Asifhecouldsenseit,hesnaggedmebythewristsandtuggedmeintothemiddleofthebedwithhim.Hislegswrappedaroundme,hisarmsholdingmetohischestuntilIwascompletelyenvelopedandlaughing,thenervesdissipating.
“YoulovewhenIbite,”hemurmuredinmyear,andchillsracedfromwherehisbreathtouchedmyskinallthewaydowntomytoes.
IrolledasbestIcouldinhisvisegrip,threadingmyarmsaroundhisneckandtanglingmyfingersinhishair.Ilovedthattouch,thatfamiliarityofthesilkystrandsstillabitdampfromhispost-gameshower.
“I’msosorry,Vince,”Ibreathed,closingmyeyesonanotherzapofpainasitshotthroughme.
Heleanedupononeelbow,enoughtobrushmyhairoutofmyface.“Okay,I’llletthatoneslide,butnomoreapologies.”
“But—”
“Iunderstand,Maven,”hesaid,cuttingmeoff.“Igetit.I’mnotmad.Notevenclose.”Hesighed,pullingmeintohim.“I’mjustsofuckinghappyyou’regivingmethechancetoshowyouI’mnotlikehim,andthatI’mnotgoinganywhere.”
Hekissedmeasanxietyspikedinmychest,butitwasquieternow,moresubdued.Irealizeditwasokaytobescared,aslongasthatfeardidn’tstandinourway.
“Whatarewegoingtodonow?”
“Icanthinkofafewthings,”hemused,kissingmewithmoreintent.
Ipressedahandtohischestonalaugh.“Imeanaftertonight.”
Vincebalancedhischininhishands,watchingme.“Whatdoyouwanttohappen?”
“Idon’twanttogiveupmyjob.”
Hefrowned.“Ofcoursenot.Whywouldyou?”
“Well,Ijustdidn’twantyoutothinkIwasgoingtoquitandlike…followyouaround.”
Iwavedmyhandwiththat,andhecaughtitbeforekissingmyknuckles.
“Thatwouldn’tbemygirl,”hesaid,holdingmyhandthereathischest.Hisbrowfurrowed.“Butareyougoingtobeokaynottravelingwithme?Doyoutrustme?”
Iswallowed.“Asmuchasitfreaksmeout…yes.”
“Good.Iswear,I’llkeepittotwobunniesatrip.Maybethree.Justsomegoodluckblowjobsbeforethegame,youknow?Nothingtoo—oof!”
Icuthimoffwithakneetothegut,andhelaughed,wrappingmeupinastraitjacketofarmsandlegsagain.
“Don’tevenjokelikethat,”Iwarned,butitwasthroughasmile,becauseIknewitwasajoke.Andthatwasthemostbeautifulrelief,themostincrediblefeeling—toknowhewasmineandnooneelsewasathreat.
“ButIliketopushyourbuttons.”
“Findmorecreativewaystopushthem.”
“Oh,Ilikethesoundofthatgame,”hesaid,andthenIwasflippedontomyback,andhewaspressingmeintothesheets,openingmylegswithhisthighs.
Hewasstillsmilingagainstmylipsaswekissed,asIsighedandopenedforhim.Butthatsmilefadedthemorewetangledourselvestogether,andhepressedhisforeheadagainstmine,shakinghisheadlikehedidn’tdeservetobethere,withme,inmybed.
“Ican’tbelievewhatyou’vedonetome.”Hishandsgrippedmeharder,andIgasped,writhingunderhistouch.“Everythingbeforeyouwasblackandwhite,amonochromaticexistence.”
“Andnow?”
“Now,it’sakaleidoscopeofcolor,”hesaidwithakiss.“Dizzyingandmaddeningandbeautiful.”
Wordsweregoneafterthat,andonceagain,Ifoundmyselfpayinghomagetohishands.Hishandsthatundressedme,piecebypiece,thatsplayedmeoutinthesheetsbeneathhimasheridhimselfofhisownclothingnext.Hishandsthatpulledmeintohislap,thatpalmedmyassandguidedmeuntilIwassinkingdownandhewasfillingme.Hishandsthatfuckedupmyhairandmymakeupandmyverywayoflife.
Vincewrappedthosehandsaroundmyshouldersandpulledmedownontohim,flexinghishipslikehecouldn’tfillmeenough.Herockedinandout,holdingmetohim,kissingandfuckingmeinanunrelentingrhythmofneed.Itwasjustlikethatnightatthepotterywheel,butsomehowevenmore.
Hewasclaimingme,markingme,erasinganytraceofanyonewhocamebeforehim.
Itwasasacredunionofsouls,aburninghotshotgunwedding.
“Iloveyou,”Iwhisperedagainsthislips.
Vincefroze,hishandsholdingmyhipsandmyweightsuspendedjustabovehim.Helockedhiseyesonmine,searching,andthenonehandsnakedbehindmynecktobringmeintohim.
“Iloveyou,”heechoed.
Hisnextkisswasbruising,andhepressedinsidemedeepandstrong.Heheldmethere,fuckingmewithsmall,preciselittleflexesofhishipsashislipstooktheirtimenippingandsuckingandkissingmine.
Irockedagainsthim,findingthefrictionIneededtorelease.Mylegsquaked,moanssuffocatedbyhismouthashedevouredeverysingleone.
Ashedevouredme
ThelastofwhoIwasbeforeVinceTanevvanishedinapuffofsmokethatnight,andIemergedontheotherside,aphoenixrising.Thepastcouldn’tcontrolmeanymore,andthefuturecouldn’tparalyzemewithitsclaws.
Iwasfree.
Freetochoose,freetofall,freetoloveandtobeloved.
Myassignmentwasover.Thejobwasdone.
ButIknewI’dmakeacareeroutoflovingthatmanandhismagichands,andI’donlyjustbegun.We’llSeeAboutThat
Vince
May
IshouldhavebeenusedtotheglareMaven’sfatherlovedtopinmewith,butitstillshookmetomycore.
BernardKingwasatallman,broadandsternwitheveryoneexcepthisbabygirl.Forher,he’dsmilewideandbright,hisblueeyescrinklingattheedges.Butwithme,theywerealwayshiddenbeneathbentbrowsandasuspiciousgaze.
Icouldn’tblamehim,notafterhowJameshadbrokenMaven.IknewI’dhavetoearnhistrustjustasmuchasIhadtoearnMaven’s,andIwasfinewiththat.Iwasheretoputinthetime.
WhereBernielookedatmelikeamangydoghewasn’tsurehewantedtokeeparound,hiswife,Leah,fawnedovermelikeabrand-newpuppy.Sheandmymomhadbecomefastfriends,andIwasprettysuretheywereplanningaweddingregardlessofthefactthatIhadn’tgivenMavenaring.
Yet.
WhereBerniewastall,Leahwasaslightlittlething,andIlovedtositbackandwatchthetwoofthemwhentheyweretogether—especiallywiththeirdaughteranddoingwhattheylovedmost.Itwasfascinatingtome,howselflesstheywere,howtheygavetheirtimeandenergyandmoneywithoutasecondthought.
Leahhadink-blackhairthatsheworeshortandcurlymoretimesthannot,herskinarichbrown.Berniewaspalewhiteandhadmoregraythananyothercoloronwhatwasleftofhishair.ButwhatIlovedmostwasthatIcouldseealittleofeachoftheminMaven—theshapeofherfather’seyes,thecolorofhermother’s,ablendofboththeirsmilesandnosesandlaughs.
Today,theyweresupportingandcelebratingtheironlydaughterassheofficiallylaunchedhernewinitiative—theTampaBayBabesCompassionProject.She’dflippedtheVinceTanevchannel,usingthefollowersandtractionshe’dgainedtosteereveryone’sattentiontowardTampacommunityheroesandwaysforlocalsandtouristsaliketogiveback.
Herparentsweren’ttheonlyonesheretosupport.TheentireOspreysteamwassweatingintheFloridaheat,freshoffaseasonandreadytogettheirhandsdirty.WewerehelpingbuildhouseswithHabitatforHumanity,whereMaven’sfatherstillworked.Notmakingtheplayoffsmeantthesebastardshadplentyoftimeontheirhands,andMavenmadesureitwasputtogooduse.
Berniehandedmeapoledigger,noddingtowardthemailboxthatneededtobehandledneartheendoftheunfinisheddriveway.Isalutedhimwithasmirk,butbeforeIcouldmakeittomynewjobonthesite,Mavenpoppedupinfrontofmewithherphonerightinmyface
“Thepeoplearedemandingtoknowwhichisbetter—scoringagoal,orscoringadatewiththeremarkable,beautiful,bedazzlingMavenKing?”
Igrinnedatthecamera.“Thepeople,oryou?”
“Answerthequestion,Mr.Tanev.”
“Mister?”Iletmyeyesrunsalaciouslyoverherbody,marvelingathoweveninapairofdirtyoverallsandoldsneakers,sheturnedmeonlikeafuckinglightswitch.“Ilikethat,”Imused,pullingherintomyarms.“Weshouldtrythatinadifferentsetting.”
ShelaughedasIpulledherinforakiss,butshepushedmeawayquickly,flushingasshelookedbackatwhereherfatherwaswatchinguslikehewasonestepclosertodrop-kickingmeacrosstheyard.
Thelastfivemonthshadpassedinablur.Iwaswrappedupinhockeyformostofit,andanytimeIwasn’tontheice,IwaswithMaven.Whethershewasinmybeddowntown,orIwasinhersbythebeach,wesoakedupeveryminutewecouldgettogether—whichwasn’tnearlyenoughwhentheseasonwasinfullswing.
TheOspreyshadawinningseasonthroughJanuary,butwechokedintheplayoffrace,missingtheclenchinagut-wrenchinglosstoOttawa.Itneverfeltgoodtolose,butithadaparticularlysharpstingwhenweweresoclosetosomethingwe’dworkedhardforallseason.Now,wewerewatchingotherteamsbattleitoutfortheCup,allthewhileplanningfornextseason,whenwe’dhavetostartalloveragain.
AsmuchasIcouldn’twaitfornextseasontostart,forourchancetodoevenbetterandmaketheplayoffs—IwasmoreexcitedforthenextfewmonthswithMaven.
Theoffseasonwasshort,andwestillhadexpectationstostayinplayingshape.Butwithamuchlessdemandingtravelschedule,I’dhavemoretimetotakeMavenout,tolosemorningsandafternoonsandnightswithher.
Whenshewasn’ttoobusyrunningtheworld,atleast.
“Howareyoudoing?”Iaskedher.
Shesmiled,shakingherheadandlookingaroundatalltheworkbeingdone.“Amazing.Ithoughtforsurewe’dstarttolosefollowerswhenIchangedoverallthelogosandbrandingimages,butwe’veretainedmostofthem.Andwe’realreadypullinginnewfollowers.Probablyhassomethingtodowithalltheshirtless,sweatingOspreys’playersI’vebeenpostingonourstories.”
Ibarkedoutalaugh.“WhydoIhaveafeelingthiswon’tbethelastofusbeingropedintohelp?”
“Don’tactlikeyoualldon’tloveit.Lookatthem,”shesaid,gesturingtomyteammates.EvenCoachMcCabewashelping,bentdownandhammeringlatticeintoplacearoundtheporchofoneofthehouses.Jaxsonwasontherooflayingshingles.Willwasworkingonthefloors.Theentireteamwashardatwork—in-betweenhorsingaround,ofcourse.
MychesttightenedabitwhenInotedCartertalkingtoMaven’smomacrosstheyard.Hewasmid-laugh,andhelookedsocarefreeImighthavebelievedhereallywasifIdidn’tknowthetruth.
“Ican’tbelieveCartergotsentdown,”Isaid.
Mavenfrowned,followingmygaze.“Ican’teither.Buthesaidthisisparforthecoursewithrookies.Andwhoknows,hecouldcomeback,right?”
“He’llbeback,”IsaidwithconvictionItrulyfelt.
CarterhadbeensentdowntotheAHLinMarch,justintimetohelpthemwiththeirplayoffs.Fornow,that’swherehewasstaying.Justbecausehewasn’tknockingsocksoffhereintheNHLdidn’tmeanhewasn’tagreatcenter.Itwasjusthardtocompetewiththeveterans,andheneededalittlemoreworktolevelup.Iknewhe’dtakethetimetogetbetter,butitdidn’tmakemychesthurtanylessatthethoughtofhimnotbeingaround.We’dgonethroughrookiecamptogether,ourrookieparty,andthefirstdecentseasonTampahadsecuredinmorethanadecade.
Hewaslikemyannoyinglittlebrotherandoneofmybestfriendsrolledintoone.Itwasn’tgoingtobethesamewithouthim.
Buthe’dbeback.
Andwe’dwelcomehimwithopenarmsandalongnightatBoomer’swhenthetimecame.
Shakingthethoughtoff,IpulledMavenbackintomyarms,smilingasshesquintedupatmewithonehandshieldinghereyesfromthesun.
“I’mproudofyou,”Isaid.
Shebeamed,standingalittletaller.“Thankyou.”
“AndI’mexcitedfortonight.”
“What’stonight?”
“Ourfirstrealdate.”
Shelaughed.“Isthatso?What,youdon’tcounttheyachtinBaltimore?”
“NomorethanthedinnerdateIcrashedwhenyouwerewiththatrealestateprick.”
“Hey,hewasnice,”shesaidonalaugh.
“Oh,isthatwhatyouwant?”Iasked,ticklingherribsasInibbledatherear.“Aniceguy?”
“IfIdid,Iwouldn’tbewithyou.”
“Ouch,”Isaid,coveringmychestlikeshe’dwoundedme.ButthenIsmirkedandpulledherinagain.“I’llshowyoujusthowniceIcanbetonight.”
“Hmm…youmighthavetowait.”
“Whyisthat?”
Shepresseduponhertoessoshecouldwhisperinmyear,thefeelofitmakingmewishwewerealone.
“Idon’tputoutonthefirstdate.”
Ibitmyliponagrin,makingsurenoonewaswatchingbeforeIsmackedherass.“We’llseeaboutthat.”WeMaketheRules
Maven
June
Weboardedthepartybustotheroaroftwo-dozenrowdyteammates,allofthemchantingVince’snameashehoistedtheCalderTrophyhighoverhisheadinvictory.Ilaughedasheproppedhisfootonthefirstbusseatanddidaridiculoustwerkandbodyrollwiththetrophy,butitonlymadehisteammatesgetevencrazier.
TheNHLAwardshadbeenhostedinAustin,Texas,andtheentireteamhadflownoutwithVinceonthenomineelistfortheRookieoftheYear.Whenhe’dwon,we’dblowntheroofofftheplace,andJaxsonrevealedthathe’dalreadybookedusanafterparty.
Abuswithastripperpolethatwouldtakeusaroundtoallthebarsandclubsinthecityuntilweshutitdown.
Vince’sfamilyhadflowninfortheceremony,aswell,butwhilehisparentshadretreatedtotheirhotel,hissisterheldfasttomyarmasweboardedthebusbehindVince.
“It’ssoloud!”shescreamedoverthenoise.
Ilaughed,squeezingherarm.WepausedbythedriveratthefrontofthebusasVinceheldhistrophyupproudly.
“I’vedreamedaboutthismomentsinceIwasinhighschool,”hesaid,andbysomemiracle,theguysonthebuscalmedenoughsotheycouldhearhim.“Backthen,Isawitasasoloaward,asoneIwouldearnallonmyown.ButnowthatI’mholdingthis,”hesaid,lookingatthetrophyandthenbackathisteam.“IknowIcouldn’thaveearneditwithoutallofyou.I’mhonoredtobeapartofthisteam,ofthisorganization,andIcan’twaitforustohanganotherbanneronourrafterswhenwewintheStanleyCuptogether.”
Therewasamixtureofcheersandteammatesmakingfunofhimforbeingamushyprincess—bothofwhichmademeandGracechuckle.
“Alright,enoughofthatshit,”hesaid,hoistingthetrophyupagain.“LET’SFUCKINGPARTY!”
Carterhadflowninforthecelebrationseventhoughhewasn’ttechnicallyontheteamanymore,andhewasthefirsttothrowacoldcanofbeertoVince.Hecaughtitwithonehand,crackedthetop,andpoureditstraightintothecupofthetrophy.
GraceandIstaredinhalfamusement,halfhorrorashecrushedtheemptycanandtossedittothefloorbeforeguzzlingthebeeroutofthetrophytothewildapprovalfromallhisteammates.
“Ihopeyou’rereadyforalongnightout,”ItoldGrace.
Hereyeswerewide,mouthparted,anditremindedmealittleofhowI’dbeenthefirsttimeI’dtraveledwiththeteam.Itreallywassuchaspectacle
“Comehere.”
IwasstillhalfholdingontoGracewhenmywristwaswrappedup,andastrongsetofhandstuggedmeintoawarmlap.Vinceplantedawet,beer-scentedkissonmetothetuneofwhistlesandcatcalls,thetrophyintheseatclosesttothewindow.
“Um,yoursister,”Isaid,blushingasIpressedagainsthischestuntiltherewassomedistance.
“Oh,shit,here,Gracie,”hesaid,movingthetrophyandscootingoversoshecouldsitnexttous.Butshescoffed,flickingherlongblondehairoverhershoulder.
“Please.I’llpassonthethirdwheel.”SheturnedtothebusfullofOspreysnext.“Who’sgotanopenseatnexttothem?”
Itwassilentfortwoseconds.
Andthenthebuseruptedintochatter,everyguyyellingforherattentionwhiletheyshovedteammatesoutofseatstomakeroom.
Ithrewmyheadbackinalaugh,butVince’sjawwastightashestoodupandpointedadeathfingerateverysingleoneofthem.
“Don’tyoufuckerseventhinkaboutit.”HesnappedatJaxsonintheveryback.“Jax,lethersitnexttoyou.You’retheonlyoneIcantrust.”
“Hey!”Cartersaidinmockoffense
Vinceignoredhim,turningtohissisternext.“Ifanyofthemlayahandonyou—”
“Oh,myGod.Relax,”shetoldhim,andthensheskippedtothebackofthebus.
VincewaspulledintoaconversationwithDaddyPandoneoftheirdefensemenasthedriverstartedustowardourfirstdestination.Iheldontothestripperpoleinthemiddleandleanedagainsttheseat,half-listeningtothemandhalf-watchingwhereGracehadjustslidintotheseatnexttoJaxsonintheback.
IsworeIcouldseehimgulpevenfromhere,hiseyeslikethatofadeercaughtinheadlightsassomeonehandedGraceabeerandshechuggedhalfofit,wipingthesudsfromherlipswhenshewasdone.Shepinnedhimwiththatbeautifulsmileofhersnext,andIdidn’tmisshowhiseyesrakedoverher.Gracewasstunning—itwasimpossiblenottonotice.
Ifshewasn’tVince’sbabysister,I’dsayJaxsonmightactuallyhaveachance.
Thenagain,shedidconfideinmeearlieratthehotelbarthatshewasseeingsomeone,somaybeitdidn’tmatter
Still,Ifoundithardnottowatchthemasthenight’sentertainment,especiallywhenwewentouttothefirstbarandGracegrabbedJaxsonbythehand,dragginghimontothedancefloor.Thelookshegavemeoverhershoulderasshepassedtoldmewhatmyjobwas,andIpulledVincetotheoppositesideofthecrowdedplace,makingsuretodistracthim.
Itwasn’tmuchofafavor,ifIwasbeinghonest.
DistractingVinceTanevwasmyfavoritethingtodo.
???
“Idon’tknowhowy’alldothisduringtheseason,”IgroanedasVinceheldthepassengersidedooropenformetocrawlinsidehisMaserati.Inevergrewtiredofthewaythatenginepurredtolifebeneathmewhenhetookhisplaceinthedriver’sseat.
“Stamina,baby,”hesaidwithawink,leaningovertheconsoletokissme.Hishandslidovermythigh,andhekeptitthereafterhebrokethekiss,drivingwithonehandasheusuallydidwhenIwasbesidehim.
IthadbeenafunweekendinAustin,butIwasgladtobehome,thelightsofTampawelcomingusasIsmiledandwatchedthepalmtreespassoutthewindow.IwassoexhaustedfromthelonghourspartyingallweekendthatIwasinadaze,andIdidn’tnoticewewereheadingtowardthebeachuntilwewerehalfwayacrosstheCourtneyCampbellbridge.
“Vince,you’regoingthewrongway,”Isaidonafrown.
“AmI?”
Hismischievoussmilewasallheleftmewithashecontinueddriving,andwecrossedintoClearwateruntilwewererightonthebeach,pullinguptoamassive,beautifulhomeguardedbyalargemetalgate.ItswungopenwiththetapofacardVinceswipedoutthewindow,andhedrovetheMaseratiupthestonedrivewaytoparkinfrontofthebeautifulhome.
“Whatisthis?”Iasked,myfatiguefadingundertheexcitement.“Didyourentusthisplaceforthenightorsomething?”
“Orsomething,”hesaid,crypticasever,andthenheroundedthecarandhelpedmeoutofit.
Itwasdark,butevenstillIgaspedwhenwewalkedthroughthegrandfoyer,thelayoutofthehousesteeringusrighttowardtheexpansivewindowsthatprovidedanuninterruptedviewoftheGulfofMexico.Thesandwaswhiteassnow,reflectingthemoonlightabove.
Therewasnofurnitureinthehome,anditseemedbrandnew,themarblefloorsglossyandsmooth.MyheelsclickedonthemasIcrossedthespaceandwentstraightoutthebackdoors,inhalingthescentoftheocean,breathinginthesaltairasthewaveslappedattheshoreline.
“Doyoulikeit?”Vinceasked,wrappingmeupfrombehind.
“It’sunbelievable,”Ibreathed,turninginhisarms.“Andveryempty.”
“Well,that’sbecauseIthoughtweshouldpickoutfurnituretogether.”
Myheartgallopedbeforeslidingtoahalt.
Vincetookmysilenceasshock,whichitwas,andheheldmyhairoutofmyeyesasthewindbattledagainsthim.“Iboughtthishouse,”hesaid.“Forus.”
“You…what?”
“Moveinwithme,”hewhispered,justloudenoughthatIcouldhearhimoverthewaves.“Let’smakeahometogether.Let’smakealifetogether.Righthere,onthebeachwhereyoulovetobe,inahousewherewemaketherules.”Hesmoothedhisthumbovermyjaw,smiling.“Nomoredrivingbackandforth.Nomorehalfofmystuffatyourplaceandhalfofyoursatmine.Iwanttowakeupnexttoyoueverymorning,Maven.Iwanttolistentoyousnorewhenyoufallasleep.”
Iswattedathischest,butmyeyesstillglossedwithtears,mycheeksburningfromhowbigmysmilewas.
“Whateverplantsyouwant,whatevergardenyouwanttocreate—it’syours.”
“Isthereaspaceforyourpotterywheel?”
Hechuckled.“Yes.It’sours,Maven.Wecanmakeitwhateverwewant.”
“Oh,doesthatmeanwecanhaveakinkysexroom?”
Hiseyebrowsshotup.“Ifthat’swhatyouwant.”
“Imean,Ihavebeendaydreamingaboutthattoyyouusedonmeafewweeksago…”
Hegroaned,capturingmylipsashepressedhishipsagainstmine.Ifelthimgrowinghardalready,likelyatthesamememory.
“Tellmethat’sayes,”hesaid.“SoIcantakeyouinsideandchristeneveryroomofourhouse.”
“Ourhouse,”Isaid,wrappingmyarmsaroundhisneck.Ijumped,knowinghe’dcatchme,mylegswindingaroundhimnext.“Itdoeshaveaniceringtoit.”
“Woman,”hegrowled,nippingatmybottomlip.
“Yes,”Ibreathed,andIbarelygotthewordoutbeforehewashaulingmeinside,pressingmeagainsttheslidingglassdoorassoonasweshutitbehindus.
Iclawedathisshirtuntilhedroppedmelongenoughtoridhimselfofit,allowingmetodothesamewithmydress.Ipeeleditoverhead,makingquickworkofmyheels,panties,andbrawhileVincewatchedwithanamusedsmirkatmehoppingaround,thelayersflyinglikeconfettiineverydirection.
IskippedtowardthekitchenislandwhenIwasbare,hoppingupandsittingmynakedassrightdownonthecool,brand-newgranite.Islidbackuntilmyfeetwereproppedonthecounter,too,leaningonmypalmsandlettingmylegsfallopenwithawickedgrin.
Vincegroaned,quicklyfinishinghisdisrobingbeforehewaspalminghimselfandstalkingtowardmelikeapredator.Hisfistrolledoverhiscockinslowpumpsuntilhewasstandingattheedgeoftheisland.
Hishandswrappedaroundmyankles,tuggingmetotheedgeuntilmyasshungoffit.Hespreadmylegswide,kissingdowntheinsidesofmythighsuntilhistonguewasrightwhereIwantedit.
Iarchedoffthegranitewithamoan,legsalreadyshakingashelickedandsuckedandteased.Heknewmemoreintimatelythananyoneeverhad,knewalltherightplacestotouch,therightpressuretolick,therightwordstosaytomakemecomeundone.
Sometimes,Vincetookhistimewithme.I’dhadmorningswherehe’dprayedatthealtarofmybodyuntilwellafternoon.Somenightswerenothingbuthoursandhoursofforeplay,ofkissingandtouchingandlearningnewwaystomakemecome.
Butothertimes,liketonight,Vincewasanimpatient,starvedman.
Heflippedme,smackingmyassoncemyfeethitthefloor.Iwasbentovertheislandnow,breastspressedagainstit,andhegrabbedmywristsandheldthematmylowerbackinavisegrip.Iwasalreadypantingwhenheslidinsideme,fillingmeaswebothhissedoutacurse.Icouldn’tmove,pinnedbyhishandsandhiships,andIreveledinthesurrenderofcontrolasheslidoutofmeandthenallthewaybackin.
“Lookatyou,”hesaid,slowinghispace.“Drippingwet,huggingmycocklikesuchagoodgirl.”
Isqueezedaroundhimwiththepraise,smilingovermyshoulderasIdid.
“Thisperfectpussywasmadeforme,”hegroaned,flexingindeepwithaslapofhishipsagainstmyass.“Youweremadeforme.”
“Yes,”Ibreathed,moaningashepulledonmywristsuntilIhadnochoicebuttobowofftheisland.
Then,somethingcoolandhardwasslippedoveraveryspecificfingerofmine.
Myheartstopped,alongwithourlovemaking,andVincetentativelyreleasedmyhands.Onepalmedmybreastastheotherwrappedaroundmythroat.
Heheldmetherewiththeperfectpressure,somehowtwistingmesohecouldclaimmymouthwhilehefoundatoe-curlingpacebehindme.Eachtimehethrustinside,Ichasedtheburningstarsdancingattheedgesofmyvision.
Iwouldnevergettiredofthis—thisman,thishome,thesefuckinghands.
“Vince,”Isaid,moreofaquestionthananythingasheflexedinsideme.
“It’saring,Maven,”hesaid,answeringwhatIhadn’tyetasked.Hislipswererightbymyear,hisbreathwarmagainstmyskin.“Abig,expensive,shinyfuckingring.”
“Youdidn’tproperlyaskme.”
“Youwantmeonmykneeforyou?”heteased,lickingtheskinatthebackofmyneck.Then,hetwistedme,mybackhittingtheedgeoftheislandashekneltbeforeme,holdingmyhandinhis.
Myhandthatnowsportedaverylarge,marquise-shapeddiamondring.
“Marryme,”herasped,histhroatbobbingwiththewords—asifhewasactuallynervous,asifIcouldeversayanythingbutyes.
“That’snotaquestion.”
“AndIdidn’tstutter,didI?”
Ibitmylipagainstasmile,pullinghimbacktohisfeetandfindinghismouthwithmine.Ileftmyanswerthereonhislips,kissinghimsodeeplyhegroanedbeforeIwasbeingcarriedtowhateverthenextroomonhislistwas.
Wefuckedineverycornerofthathouseuntilthesunstartedtorise,andthen,hepulledmeoutontoourprivatebeach,andwewentonemoreroundforgoodmeasure.
Whenwewerebothsoexhaustedandsorewecouldbarelymove,Vincewrappedmeupinhisarms,oureyesonthewaterasthesuntransformeditfromdarkbluetoaturquoisemasterpiece.
Withmyheadagainsthischest,Iheldoutmyhand,thediamondglitteringinthelight,andIlaughedtomyself.Flashesofthelastninemonthshitmelikeafilmreel.Itfeltlikeanotherlifetime,thatfirstnightImethimatthegala,butIsmiledathowIcouldstillrememberthewayhesetbutterfliesfreeinmystomachandmadememadwithrageatthesametime.
IcouldstillrememberhowlightmychestwasthatfirstmorningIshowedupathisplace,howIfeltwhenIsawhispotterycorner,sawhimdrinkingcoffeewithoutashirton.IcouldstillclosemyeyesandfeeltheheatfromwhenhecorneredmeoutsideBoomer’s,howhekissedmeevenbeforeIcouldadmitthatwasallIwantedhimtodo.IhopedI’dneverlosethosememories.IhopedI’dalwaysrememberhowitfelttofallinlovewithVinceTanevagainstmywill.
“What’sgotyousmilinglikethat?”heasked,kissingbehindmyear.
Iturnedinhisarms,framinghisfaceashewrangledmyhairinhishands.
“YouknowhowmuchIhatetosaythis,butIthinkyouwereright.”
Hebithisliponamoan.“God,thatissuchaturnon.Sayitagain.”
Ipokedhisribs,andhelaughed,kissingmynosebeforehepulledbacktowatchme.Theblueofthewaterplayedwiththegreeninhishazeleyes,bringingittolifemorethanI’deverseenbefore.ThoseeyeswereminetostareatnowforaslongasIwanted.
“WhatwasIrightabout?”heasked
Ileanedintohim,plantingakisstohischin.“Ireallydidmeetmymatch.”
Thelaughthatbarreledoutofhimwasmyfavoritesoundintheworld.
Andhewasmyfavoriteperson.
TheEndWeRideAtDusk
Jaxson
Sheblewbackintomylifenotlikeastorm,butlikethesun—hiddenbehindadarkcloudbutstillshiningallthesame.
Therewasn’tadaythathadpassedwhereIhadn’tthoughtaboutGraceTanev,aboutthenightIspentwithher.ItwasjustapartybusandarowdynightoutwiththeteamcelebratingVincewinningtheCalderTrophy,andyet,ithadbeenlikeanawakening.
Mywholelife,I’dbeenwakinginafog,inadenseandheavycloudthatIthoughtwouldstaywithmeforever.
Butonenightwithherhadbroughtinthesun.
Ofcourse,I’dspentthebetterhalfofthelasttwoweeksdoingmylevelbesttoeraseherandthatnightfrommymind.Becauseitdidn’tmatterhoweasilytheconversationcame,howheartilyshe’dmademelaugh,orhowmybodyhadhummedtolifewithherhipsinmyhandsaswedancedinacrowdedclub.
Gracewasofflimits.
Notonlywasshealreadyinarelationship,butshewasalsoeightyearsyoungerthanme.
Shewasalsomyteammate’slittlesister.
ThatwasahurdlenotevenIcouldjump.
I’ddoneasomewhatdecentjoboflettingtheideaofhergo.Ihadresistedtheurgetolookheruponsocialmedia,hadignoredthefactthatshe’dgivenmehernumber,thatshe’dputitinmyphonebeforewesaidourgoodbye.
Becausethatwasexactlywhatitwas—agoodbye.
Untilitwasn’t.
“Youreallywanttoloseyourmoneythatbadly?”VinceaskedCarterwithawhistle,shakinghishead.Wewereathisnewplaceonthebeach,halfofitstilllitteredwithboxes,waitingforWilltoshowupsowecouldhitourteetime.“Youknowmygameputsyourstoshame.”
“I’vebeenpracticing.Besides,you’vebeensobusycrawlingupMaven’sass,mybetisyou’llbetoodistractedtoplay.”
“Hey,leavemyassoutofthis,”Mavencalledfromthekitchenwhereshewasorganizingglasswareinthecabinets.
“Butit’sthebestoneI’veeverseen,”Cartersaidwithapout,whichearnedhimaslugonthearmfromVince
“GottasayIagreeonthatone,”Ipipedin,duckingbeforeVincehadthechancetopullmeintoachokehold.“Istilldreamaboutthatyellowdress…”
VinceshovedCarteroutofthewayandstartedchasingme,andIdodgedthecoffeetableandhoppedoverthecouch,stayingjustoutofreach.CarterstartedhummingtheBennyHillthemesong,clappinghisthighsintimewiththebazookasoundshewasmakingwithhismouthlikewewereTom&Jerry
Iwasslidingonmysocksaroundthekitchenisland,half-hidingbehindalaughing,red-facedMaven,whenafigureappearedinthefoyer.IthoughtitwasDaddyPatfirst,soIkeptupthecharade.Butwhenasuitcasewasdroppedtothemarblefloorandasoftcryfollowedbehindit,weallstopped,ourheadssnappinginthatdirection.
Andthereshewas.
Staringrightatme.
ThosegreeneyesI’dfallensoeasilyintothatnightinAustinwereglossyandred,herbutton-nosethesamerosyshade.Thebagsunderhereyeswereaterribleshadeofpurpleandgray,hershouldersslumped,bottomliptremblingthelongershestoodtherewithoutanyonesayingaword.Shewaspetite,eveninheels,butstandingthereinflipflops,shewassoslight,sosmall,likealittlemouse.
Herlong,straightblondehairthathadblurredmyvisionthenightItwirledheraroundonthedancefloorinAustinwasatangledmess,dirtyandgreasyanddull.She’dcovereditwitharipped-upballcapthatsaidAssholeonit.
Butevenwithherlipsinaflatline,Icouldrememberhersmile.
Icouldrememberherlaugh,herridiculousdancemoves,herevenmoreridiculousquestions.
Irememberedeverything.
Asputoutasshelooked,herbronzeskinstillblazedagainstthewhitet-shirtshewore,againstthetinyjeanshortsshepaireditwith,likeshehadbeenatthebeachforweeks.Hershirthadacartoonofanopossumwieldingagunlikeacowboy,andthetextunderitsaidwerideatdusk.
Iwouldhavelaughed,ifthesightofherdidn’tmakemychestsparkwithsomethingpossessiveandferal.
Shelookedlikehell,likeshe’dbeenthroughhell,andyetshewasstillthemostbeautifulthingI’deverseen
BeforeIcouldthinkbetterofit,Istartedtowardher—attheverysametimeVincedid.HegavemeastrangelookbeforeIstoppedinmytracksandhecontinuedon,rushingtohissisterandwrappingherinafiercehug.
Maventurnedbacktounpacking,givingthemprivacy,andCarterpretendedtobeonhisphone.
I,ontheotherhand,couldn’tlookaway.
Vincepulledbackafteramoment,holdingGrace’sshouldersinhishandsashespokeinahushedvoicetoher.Shesaidsomethingback,andthenVincehuggedheragain,andgrabbedhersuitcase.Theywalkeddownthehallandupthestairs,andwhentheyweregone,Mavenblewoutabreath.
“Thatdidn’tlookgood,”shesaid
Carter’smouthpulledtothesideashelookedupthestairsandthenbackatme.Hiseyesnarrowedabitthen,butbeforehecouldsayaword,Vincewasback,runningahandoverhishead.
“Sheokay?”Mavenasked.
“No,”hesaid.“Butshewillbe.Itoldhershecouldstayherewithus.”
“Ofcourse,”Mavensaid,roundingthekitchenislanduntilshewasslippingherarmsaroundVince’swaist.“Foraslongassheneeds.”
Vincenodded,blowingoutabreathandkissingMaven’sforehead.Heseemedtorelaxwithherembracinghim,butmymuscleswerecoiledtight.
Cartertriedtolightenthemoodwithajoke,andthenWillwalkedin,breakingthetensionofthemomentashegrumpedaboutitbeingtoohottoplaygolf.Imumbledsomethingaboutneedingtousethebathroombeforeweleft,excusingmyselfdownthehall.
Then,Iglancedovermyshouldertomakesurenoonewaswatching,andImademywayupthestairstwoatatime.
Vince’snewplacewasmassive,withsomanyroomsIwasn’tsurewhichonehewouldhaveputGracein.ButIheardhersnifflingthroughacrackeddoortowardthemiddle,andIpausedjustoutsideit,rappingmyknuckleslightlyonthewood.
“Comein,”shesaidsoftly,pathetically,hervoicehoarse.
Ipushedthedooropenjustenoughtoseeher,forhertoseeme,andthenwebothfroze.
Iwasn’tsurewhatIexpected.Maybeitwasforhertotellmetofuckoffandleaveheralone,becausewhenshelitupwithasmile,ittwistedmygut—likeIdidn’tdeservethat,likeitwasdangerousformetowanteverysmilesheeverhadtogive.Hercheekslifted,eyescrinkling,andtwomoretearssliddowninperfectunison,likethesmilehadsetthemfree.
“Hey,”shesaid,anditwasjustoneword,justagreeting.Butthatsmile,thewayshewatchedme,itmademefeellikeIhadthepowertomakeeverythingokay.
“WhodoIhavetokill?”
Shechokedonsomethingbetweenasobandalaugh,wipinghernosewithabunched-uptissueinherhands.Sheswipedthetearsawaynext.“He’snotworththejailtime.”
Mychestignitedthen,thesparkturningtoflame.
He.
Thatconfirmedmysuspicion.
ThatnightinAustin,she’dtoldmeinthemostadorablebutfirmwaythatshewastaken,datingsomeguyshe’dmetcamping.Judgingbyhertear-stainedface,theguyhadblownit.
Idiot.
“Youokay?”
Hersmilewaned.“Yeah,yeah,”shesaidquickly,wavingherhandintheairlikeshewasswattingagnataway.“It’shisloss.AndprobablygoodIfoundoutnowbefore…”Sheshookherhead,hervoicefading.“Nothingalittlesunshineandsaltwatercan’tfix.”
Sheforcedanothersmile,andIfrowned,steppingmorefullyintotheroom.
“Youdon’thavetodothat.”
“Dowhat?”
“Pretendtobefine.Pretendlikeyou’renothurting.Pretendlikethebrightsideisallyou’rethinkingof.”
Hereyebrowsslidtogether,butthenshelookeddownatwhereherhandsstillclutchedtheballed-uptissue,andsheshrugged.
“It’seasierthanadmittingthetruth.”
Cartercalledmynamefromdownstairs,andIcursed,steppingoutoftheroomanddownthehallabitbeforeyelling,“Berightthere!”
Then,Islidbackintothedoorway,chestachingatthesightofGracesosmallonthatlargefour-postbed.
“Go,”shesaidwithaweaksmile.“I’mfine.”
Buthereyessaiddifferently.
“Whatareyoudoingtonight?”
Shearchedabrow.“Hostingaball.Isn’titobvious?”Shesplayedherhands,wavingthemoutoverherselfandtheroom.
Thecornerofmymouthtwitchedup.Thisgirlwasheartbroken,andyetshewasmakingjokes.
“Whatifwedrove?”
“Drove?”
Inodded.
“Where?”
“Anywhere.”
Shefoldedherarms.“Andmybrother?”
Awarningflaredinmygut,butIignoredit.“Doyoutellyourbrothereverything?”
Mischiefbloomedtolifeinherseagreeneyes,thefirstrealsmileI’dseensinceAustincurlingonherlightpinklips.
Ishouldhavewalkedaway.Ishouldhaveshookmyheadandsaidnevermindandboltedoutofthatroom.Thiswasagirlwithabrokenheart,freshoutofarelationshipthatclearlyhurther.Thiswasagirl,period—onefartooyoungforme.
ThiswasGraceTanev,myteammateandoneofmybestfriend’slittlesister.
Walkaway,commonsensebeggedme.Thisisnotyourplace.
ButIstoodtall,rootedinplace,watchingherandwaitingforhertobethestrongeronebecauseIdamnsurecouldn’tbe.
Gracepoppedoffthebed.“Roadtrip?”
Myeyebrowsshotup.Ihadmoreofadrivealongthebeachinmind,ormaybealongwindingroadinthecountry.Butthatdidn’tstopmefromopeningmystupidmouthandreplying,“Ifthat’swhatyouneed.”
Hereyesnarrowedabit,likeshedidn’tquitebelieveIwasserious.“Whataboutpractice?”
“Off-season,”Iexplained.
Hereyessparkledlikediamonds.
“Anywhere?”sheasked,echoingmyearliersentiment.
“Anywhere.”
Hersmileclimbedevenmore,andshecrossedtheroomintwostrides,holdingoutherhandformine.
“Werideatdusk,”shesaid,referencinghershirt.IignoredthesirensinmymindwhenItookherhandandsheshookitlikewe’djustdoneamulti-million-dollarbusinessdeal.Then,shebackedawayinamoonwalk,makingfingergunsandapewpewsoundthatmademesnortoutalaughthroughmynose.
IwasprettysureI’djusttakenawrongturnandsteeredmyselfrighttowardDisasterville.
ButIcouldn’tfinditinmetochangecourse.
WhathappenswhentheOspreys’stardefensemenendsuponaroadtripwithhisteammate’shotlittlesister?FindoutinWatchYourMouth
Can’tgetenoughofVinceandMaven?Here’sabonusscenetomakeyouswoon!
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Hands.
Big,strong,demandinghands.
Big,strong,demandinghandseverywhere
Inmyhairashepulledmymouthtohis,asheinhaledthatnextkisslikeamanwho’dbeenunderwaterforyearsandIwasthesurface.Grippingmythroatashekissedmeharder,likehedidn’tknowifhewantedtochokemeorworshipme.Runningthelengthofmybody,downmyribsandovermyhipsuntilhecuppedmyassandliftedmeeffortlessly.
Iwasasymphonyofbreathsandmoansashecarriedmeblindlythroughthedorm,kickingmybedroomdooropenwithhisfoot.MynextbreathwascutshortasIwaspinnedagainstthewall,andhispossessivekisscrawledovermyjaw,downmyneck,untilhenippedatmycollarboneandIarchedintohim,silentlybeggingformore.
Warningbellshissedliketheshakeofarattlesnaketail,somefar-offvoicetryingdesperatelytobreakthroughtheecstasyandremindmethatthiswasZekeunravelingmewitheverytouch.
ThiswasZeke,mybrother’sbestfriend.
Zeke,myteammate,myroommate
Zeke—whomIhate,whomIwishhadneverbeenborn,whomIblameforruiningmybrother’slife.
Andyettheharderhegrippedme,themorehekissedme?ThelessIcouldholdontoanythingotherthanthedesiretohavehiminsideme.
Hedroppedmyfeettotheground,hishandsleavingmeonlylongenoughtoreachbehindhisneckandriphisdampshirtoff.
“Iwantedtokillhim,”heseethed,hisnextbreathripplingoverhistautchest,hisribs,themountainsandvalleysofmuscleslininghisabdomen.Hekissedmeagain,handwrappingaroundmythroatandtiltingmyjawupuntilIwhimperedintohismouth.“Iwantedtofuckingmurderhim,Riley.”
“Why?”Ibreathed.
Heshookhishead,hisforeheadagainstmineashelickedhislips.“BecauseIamscarredbythefireyoustartedinme.Becauseyouhavereducedmetofuckingashes.”
Hishandsslidundermyshirt,warmandall-encompassingashisfingertipssplayedthewidthofmyribcage,takingthefabricup,up,up,untilhepeeleditoffmecompletely.
“BecauseIacheforyou,”hebreathedagainstmylipsnext.“AndI’llendanyonewhotoucheswhat’smine.”
Hislipsbrushedmineinthebriefest,mostpunishingkissbeforehishandswereonmywaist,andhespunme,myownhandsflyingouttocatchmyselfagainstthewall.HebitthebackofmyneckasIarchedintohim,heatpoolingbetweenmythighs,mynipplessopeakedandreadytheyached.
“I’mnotyours,”Imanagedonabreathashekissedhiswayacrossmyshoulders.
Helaughed—notinahumorousway,butinadark,terrifyingmannerthatmademeshiverashestrippedmysportsbraoffmenext.Heleanedintomefrombehind,andIsuckedinabreathatthefeelingofhishard-onagainstmyassbeforehepulledbackjustenoughtosliphisthumbsunderthebandofmyshorts.
“Thatso?”hemurmuredinmyear,tongueskatingoverthelobebeforeeverythingtraileddown.Hishands,pullingmyshortswiththem.Histongue,lickingalineoffiredownmyspine,hisheatedvoiceashegrowledagainstmyhipbone.“So…youwantmetostop?”
Myshortshitthegroundbymyankles,andhisfingerswalkedalazylineoverthehemofmyboyshorts,tracingthecurveofmyass.
Icouldn’tspeak.
Itried,rackingmybrainforsomesmart-assremarkorsomewaytocombathiscockydeclarationthatIbelongedtohim.
Butwhenthosefingersglidedbetweenmylegsfrombehind,whentheyslidalongthewet,thinfabricseparatingus,allIcoulddowasgasp.
“Youwantmetostoptouchingyou?”hegoaded,runningthattreacherousfingeralongmyseamasIshookandheldontothewallfordearlife.“Youwantmetostop…tastingyou?”
Histongueranhotandflatalongthebackofmythigh,thetipofitjustbarelylashingwhereIwantedhimmostbeforethesensationwasgone.
“Youwantmetoleave?”hehusked,andhepeeledmypantiesoffslowly,takinghistimeasheguidedthefabricovermyass,downmythighs,tomykneesbeforeheletthemdroptojoinmyshorts.
Iwasbreathingsohardyou’dhavethoughtIhadjustrunthelengthofthefield,myfingersclawingattheunforgivingwall,eyesflutteringshutasIfocusedontheheatofhisbreathagainstmyachingcore.
Hecrawledbackupmybody,kissingandsuckingandbitingovermyass,myhips,myspine,myshoulder,untilhislipswereatmyear.
“Tellme,”hechallenged,andjustthesoundofhisvoice,ofhisbreathintheshellofmyearhadmeshiveringandpantingandarchingsoIcouldfeelhimagainstmeoncemore.“Tellmeyouhateme,Riley.”
“Ihateyou,”Iwhispered,butstill,Igroundmyassagainsthim,bitingmylipwhenheheldbackagroanofhisownatthefeelofmeagainsthishard-on.
“Youdo?”heteased,suckingmyearlobebetweenhisteethashishandsliddownthelengthofme,andIwhimperedwhenthathandslippedbetweenmylegs,hiswarmfingerglidingalongmywet,throbbingcenter.
Myentirebodytrembled,somuchsothathisfreehandwrappedaroundmywaisttoholdmesteady.
“Ido,”Ianswered,glancingovermyshouldertomeethisgaze.HiseyeswerefocusedonmylipsasIsaid,“ButIdon’twantyoutostoptouchingme.”
ThiswasasneakpeekinsideFairCatch!Keepreadinghere(FREEinKindleUnlimited).TheRedZoneRivalsSeriesFairCatchAsifbeingtheonlygirlonthecollegefootballteamwasn’thardenough,Coachhadtogoandassignmybrother’sbestfriend—andmynumberoneenemy—asmyroommate.BlindSideThehottestcollegefootballsafetyinthenationjustaskedmetobehisfakegirlfriend.AndIjustaskedhimtotakemyvirginity.QuarterbackSneakQuarterbackHoldenMoorecanhaveanygirlhewants.Exceptme:thecoach’sdaughter.HailMary(anAmazon#1Bestseller!)LeoF*ckingHernandez.NorthBostonUniversity’sstarrunningback,notoriousbachelor,andnumberoneonmypeopleIwouldmurderifIcouldgetawaywithitlist.Andnow?Mynewroommate.TheBeckerBrothersSeriesOntheRocks(book1)Neat(book2)Manhattan(book3)OldFashioned(book4)FourbrothersfindingloveinasmallTennesseetownthatrevolvesaroundawhiskeydistillerywithadarkpast—includingthemysteriousdeathoftheirfather.TheBestKeptSecretsSeries(ANAMAZONTOP10BESTSELLER)WhatHeDoesn’tKnow(book1)WhatHeAlwaysKnew(book2)WhatHeNeverKnew(book3)Charlie’smarriageisdying.She’sperfectlycontenttogodownintheflames,untilherfirstloveshowsbackupandremindshertheotherwaylovecanburn.CloseQuartersAsummeryachtingtheMediterraneansoundedlikeheaventoJasmineafterfinishingherundergraddegree.Butherboyfriend’sbillionairebossalwaysgetswhathewants.Andthistime,hewantsher.MakeMeHateYouJasminehasbeenavoidingherbestfriend’sbrotherforyears,butwhenthey’rebothinthesamehouseforawedding,shecan’tresisthim—nomatterhowshetries.TheWrongGame(ANAMAZONTOP5BESTSELLER)Gemma’splanissimple:inviteanewguytoeachhomegameusingherseasonticketsfortheChicagoBears.It’stheperfectwaytoavoidgettingemotionallyattachedandalsogetsomeaction.ButafterZachgetshischancetobeherpracticeround,hedecidesonegamejustisn’tenough.Asexy,funsportsromance.TheRightPlayerShe’savoidingloveatallcosts.Hewantsnothingmorethantolockherdown.Sexy,hilariousandswoon-worthy,TheRightPlayeristheperfectreadforsportsromancelovers.OntheWaytoYouItwasonlysupposedtobearoadtrip,butwhenCooperdiscoversthejournaloftheboydrivingthegetawaycar,everythingchanges.Anemotional,angstyroadtripromance.ALoveLettertoWhiskey(ANAMAZONTOP10BESTSELLER)Anangsty,emotionalromancebetweentwoloversfightingthecurseofbadtiming.ReadLove,Whiskey–Jamie’ssideofthestoryandanextendedepilogue–inthenewFifthAnniversaryEdition!(https://amzn.to/3FB1B7E)WeightlessYoungNataliefindsself-loveandromancewithherpersonaltrainer,alongwithaslewofsecretsthattiethemtogetherinwayssheneverthoughtpossible.RevelryRecentlydivorced,WrensearchesforclarityinasummercabinoutsideofSeattle,whereshemakesanunforgettableconnectionwiththebroody,smalltownreclusenextdoor.SayYesHarleyisstudyingartabroadinFlorence,Italy.Tryingtobreakfreeofherperfectionism,shestepsoutsideonenightdeterminedtoSayYestoanythingthatcomesherway.Ofcourse,shedidn’texpecttorunintoLiamBenson…WashedUpGregoryWeston,theboyIonceknewasmyson’sbestfriend,nowamanIdon’tknowatall.No,notjustaman.Adoctor.Andhewantsme…TheChristmasBlanketStuckinacabinwithmyex-husbandwaitingoutablizzard?NotexactlywhatIhadpicturedwhenIplannedasurprisevisithomefortheholidays…BlackNumberFourAcollege,Greek-liferomanceofahotyoungpokerstarandtheboysenttotakeherdown.ThePalmSouthUniversitySeriesRush(book1)Anchor(book2)Pledge(book3)Legacy(book4)Ritual(book5)Hazed(book6)Greek(book7)#1NYTBestsellingAuthorRachelVanDykensays,“IfGossipGirlandRiverdalehadalovechild,itwouldbePSU.”Thisangstycollegeserieswillbeyournextguiltyaddiction.TagChaserShemadeabetthatshecouldstopchasingmilitarymen,whichseemedeasy—untilherknightinshiningarmorandlatestclientatworkshowedupinArmyACUs.SongChaserTannerandKelleeareperfectforeachother.Theyfrequentthesamebars,lovethesamemusic,andhavethesamedesiretoripeachother’sclothesoff.Onlyproblem?Tannerisstillinlovewithhisbestfriend.KickingoffabrandnewseriesafterhavingthebestsuccessofmycareerwasharderthanIeverexpected.There’salwaysabitofanxietymixedwithexcitement,andIwantedtomakesureIdidjusticetothesportIlovesomuchwhilealsohavingfunwiththespiceandromance.Icouldnothaveachievedthatwithoutthelargeteamoffriendswhohelpedme!
MyfirstacknowledgementistoRhiannonGwynneandherhusband,JoshBrittain.WhenIaskedyouforaninterview,Imeantsomethingquickandpainless.Instead,youindulgedmeforTHREEHOURSwhileIpepperedyouwithendlessquestionsabouthockey,lifeasaplayeraswellasaWAG,andsomuchmore.Youhelpedshapesomuchofthisbookandthisseries,andItrulycouldneverthankyouenough.Hopefully,bringingyourgymscenefantasytolifeandnamingacharacterafteryoushowedalittleofmyappreciation.??
Tomyhusband,Jack,myever-steadyforce–thankyouforlovingmeandforpushingmetobebetter,always.WhenIsteppeduptotheplateforthisseries,yourubbedmyshouldersandtoldmeyouknewI’dhititoutoftheparkevenwhenmykneeswereshakingandmyhandsweresweating.Ican’tthankyouenoughforbelievinginmeandforwatchingplayoffhockeywithmepepperingyouwithquestionseverysecondofit.
Tomymomma,Lavon,andmybestie,Sasha–IcannevergetthroughacknowledgementswithouttellingyoubothhowmuchIloveandappreciateyou.Thankyouforalwayssupportingmydreams.
ToTinaStokes,myExecutiveAssistantandmoreimportantlymyFRIEND–thankyouforlovingmeandfightingforthisdreamasifitwereyourown.YouaresuchahugepartofKandiSteiner,LLCandofmylife.Ican’timaginethisworldwithoutyou.
TomySpicySprintSlutz,LenaHendrixandElsieSilver,thankyouforalwaysbeingtheretowrite(andcry)together.Mybestdaysarewhenweblowoffourfocustimerstogabandlaugh,andmyworstdaysarewhenyou’rebothbusyoronvacation.It’shardtofindatribeinthiswritingworld.I’msogladI’vefoundy’all.
Inthatsamethread,Icouldn’thavedonethiswithouttwoofmybestfriends–KarlaSorensenandBrittainyC.Cherry.Onalltheharddays,wepushedtogether.Onalltheeasydays,wecelebratedoneanotherandourlittle(orbig)successes.Ourgroupchatismyfavoritethingintheworld.Iloveyouboth!
LauraPavlov,thankGODyouswungintomylifelastyear!Iknowwehavetalkedonlineformuchlongerthanthat,butI’msogladourrelationshiphasbloomedintoabeautifulfriendship.Ilookforwardtohearingyourvoiceeveryday,andIlovehowwearealwaystheretopushoneanotherandcheereachotheron.Let’sdoitforever.Loveyou!
ShoutouttoHannahChiclana,notonlyforworkingwithyourhothusbandtobringmyaudiobookstolife,butforsendingmetheTikTokvideothatplantedtheseedforVince’spotteryhobby.HOTHANDS.Welovetoseeit.AndIamsothankfulforyourfriendship,talent,andinspiration.
MaggieEhrgott,thankyouforpumpingmeupaboutmyfirsthockeyseries,andforgivingmealltheinspirationwhenitcameyourway.Andthankyouforjustbeingthemostwonderfulfriend.I’msothankfulyoucameintomylife!
Tomyincredibleteamofsensitivityreaders–TiffanieShipp,CheléWalker,andImaniBlake–thankyousomuchforyourtime,effort,andconsiderationonthisproject.Writingdiverseromancehasalwaysbeenimportanttome,andit’sthankstowomenlikeyouthatIcanlearneachandeverytimeIdo.Iamsoappreciativeofallyourfeedbackandhelpinmakingthisbookthebestitcouldbe.
IhadaBIGteamofbetareadersforthisbook,becauseIwantedtoensureitwasaspolishedaspossiblebythetimethefinaldraftwasfinished.Thismighthavebeenmymostproductivefeedbackfromanygroupbefore,andI’msothankfultoeveryonewhohelped.AhugeandheartfeltthankstoFrancesO’Brien,PatriciaLebowitzQUEENMINTNESS!,AllisonCheshire,KelleeFabre,SarahGreen,MeaganReynoso,Marie-PierreD’Auteuil,JanettCorona,JayceCruz,GabrielaVivas,CarlyWilson,DanielleLagasse,NicoleWestmoreland,andJewelCarusoa.Withoutyou,thiswouldhavebeenamess.Allmylove!
Totheteamwhohelpsbringmyvisiontolife:ElaineYorkwithAllusionPublishing,NicoleMcCurdywithEmeraldEdits,NinaGrinstead,KimCermak,andthewholeteamatValentinePR,RenSaliba,andStaciHartwithQuirkyBirdCoverDesign–THANKYOU.Fromeditingandformattingtophotographyandpromotion,ittrulytakesavillage.I’msothankfulforeachandeveryoneofyou.
Andfinally,toYOU,thereader–ifyou’vereadthisfar,allthewayintotheacknowledgements?Kudos,babe.AndIjustwantyoutoknowthatnoneofthiswouldbepossiblewithoutyou.Thereisn’tadaythatgoesbythatItakeanyofthisforgranted,thatIdon’tpinchmyselfandsendgratitudebombsintotheuniverse.Thankyouforreadingmybooks,forpostingaboutthemonsocialmedia,forleavingreviews,andforreadingindie,period.Youarethewindbeneathmywings,andIappreciateyoumorethanIcouldeverconvey.KANDISTEINERisa#1AmazonBestsellingAuthorandwhiskeyconnoisseurlivinginTampa,FL.Bestknownforwriting“emotionalrollercoaster”stories,shelovesbringingflawedcharacterstolifeandwritingaboutreal,rawromance—inallitsforms.NotwoKandiSteinerbooksarethesame,andifyou’realoverofangsty,emotional,andinspirationalreads,she’syourgal.
AnalumnaoftheUniversityofCentralFlorida,KandigraduatedwithadoublemajorinCreativeWritingandAdvertising/PRwithaminorinWomen’sStudies.Herloveforwritingstartedattheripeageof10,andin6thgrade,shewroteandeditedherownnewspaperanddistributedtoherclassmates.Eventually,theprincipalcaughtonandthe