It’s been over two weeks since the Bobcats game and the Kiss. Kiss with a capitalKbecause it was so damn good that it deserves the recognition and respect a capital letter brings. But Cole hasn’t reached out since, and I haven’t yet decided how I feel about that. So, as usual, I’ve tucked thoughts of him away and focused on other things. It’s not like I’m looking for anything from him anyway. He seems like a genuinely great guy, the kind of guy I tend to stay far away from. Why? Because they want things I can’t offer. But I also wouldn’t say no to the chance to trace his abs with my tongue.
And when my phone buzzes in my pocket, a small, radicalized group of butterflies in my stomach annoyingly hope it’s Cole.Assholes.
Deirdre Silver
Keith and I are going on a cruise and won’t be back until after Thanksgiving. Will you tell Elliott and Ava for me? Xx
I truly wish I could say I was surprised by, or even sad about, my mom’s text. But it’s so typical of her that the only feeling I can muster up in response is relief. I haven’t seen her in months—she didn’t fly back for Elliott’s graduation or to spend time with Ava before she left for school—so what’s a few more weeks? And God forbid she bite the bullet and tell my siblings themselves.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I pick up the wine carafe and fill my glass nearly to the rim. “Guess who’s bailing on Thanksgiving? Again.”
Kennedy grabs my phone from the table and reads the text aloud. “God, your mom is the fucking worst.”
“I’m sorry,” Sophie says. A tight frown furrows her features. “That’s really shitty.”
I shrug and pick up my drink. I’m used to the constant disappointment otherwise known as my mother. “One would think a woman so uninterested in kids would’ve invested in better contraception.”
A surprised laugh escapes Sophie, making wine spray out of her nose. “Is she really that bad?”
“Yep,” Kennedy confirms, straightening in her seat. “Maya missed prom because her sister had the flu, and Deirdre was out of town and wasn’t picking up the phone.”
I snort. “When is my mother not out of town?”
“Speaking of out of town,” Sophie says in the world’s worst segue. “The team will be home tomorrow. I think you should text Cole. Make the first move. Or second move, I guess.”
I twirl the stem of my glass between my thumb and pointer finger, willing my nerves to remain settled. Before I can look too hard into why I’m even considering this, I ask, “What would I even say?”
Kennedy refills her glass and Sophie’s. “You could try something like ‘Hey, Cole. My vibrator ran out of battery. You around to make me come instead?’”
It takes more effort than I’d like to admit to keep a straight face, because that’s scarily accurate.
Sophie leans forward, her face alight. “You should go with a hockey pun. Want to Zam-boney?”
“Oh, I’ve got one,” Kennedy shouts, making the people seated around us glance over. “You might not like tie games, but what about tying me up instead?”
“What’s the difference between me and a hockey fight?” Sophie continues with a shy smile. “They may not like getting nailed, but I sure as hell do.”
I slap my hands over my face, half in laughter, half in mortification. “How aboutpuck no?”
CHAPTER SIX
cole
“Shiftyour balance to the left, Davies!” Coach Henderson shouts, his voice carrying across the rink. “Push yourself! Atta boy.”
“You heard the man!” Logan whoops, the sound a little maniacal. “Shift left!”
Cameron grumbles an insult at Logan as he skates past me. He doesn’t do well with constructive criticism, focusing on the criticism aspect instead of learning from the constructive part. For someone who’s six-four, over two hundred pounds, and could give Oscar the Grouch a run for his money, he’s very sensitive.
“Brush it off, man,” I advise in a stern voice. The ozone smell of the arena—the one I’ve associated with home for so long—surrounds me as I sweep past him. The air here is always chilly, but our constant movement keeps us warm. “Unless you want to repeat this goddamn drill.”
“Then tell Logan to stop being sohim,” he responds with a scowl.
Since the guy’s natural disposition can be described as scowly, the way his dark brows are pulled together over his dark green eyes isn’t anything out of the ordinary.
Coach makes us run the drill again anyway. And again. And again, until the sweat dripping down my face almost obscures my vision.Holy hell.The edge work drills can best be described as a methodical way to slowly kill someone’s will to live. Though I give it my all, my legs and lungs burn. And that’s saying something, considering I push myself harder than just about any of the guys on the team. Apparently, last night’s win wasn’t enough to prove to Coach Henderson that we do indeed know how to play nice with one another.
He claps, praising Logan as he takes a sharp turn. “Nice and tight, Logan. Keep it up.”
