My gaze drifts from the rink, scanning the crowded arena. It’s hard to tell through the puffy coats and scarves, but I catch myself really looking at women’sfaces. Holding a gaze a beat too long, tracing a smile, appreciating the line of a jaw. Not just noticing but considering.
Oh.
A weird, quiet certainty settles in my chest. I might be into women. I might be gay. Or at the very least, wildly bisexual.
Cassie called it.
The thought of her triumphant gloating makes me cringe, but beneath that is a profound relief. She wasn’t shocked; she saw it before I did. That validates it almost. Makes it feel real and not just some fleeting confusion.
What a development.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and it’s my reminder that the semifinals are today. As if I would be late, I settle further in my cold, plastic seat. Texting Michel that I’m at another game crosses my mind, but I’m enjoying myself too much to tell him how many humps Sally the camel has.
I give a nod to Paige, Riley, Rissa, and a few others as they skate out onto the rink, rolling their sticks and stretching against the ice. Rissa and Riley both wave like maniacs, but Paige gives me a quick nod and doesn’t look back.
Odd.
I turn my attention to my phone and send off a text to Cassie.
Violet:Currently sitting at Skye’s semifinal game, running on espresso and adrenaline. I think this might be my personality now.
Three dots pop up instantly. Of course they do. Cassie has been dying for more details since “Pussy Grapes”. Her new nickname for me.
Cassie:Look at you! International, mysterious, and slightly unhinged.
Cassie:Okay, now that that part is out of the way, cut the shit and tell me about the sex.
I snort and earn a look from the guy two rows down. I’m almost up against the glass, but being a few rows back seemed appropriate. Reaching up under my scarf, I toy with the O-ring on the front of my collar. I haven’t taken it off except when I’m showering, and that seems to please Skye.
My stomach flips at the thought of praise, and my core aches for her touch. She has completely ruined me for regular sex.
Violet:Not that you asked, but I was at the studio before I got to Skye’s, and again this morning, finalizing shit for a concert that didn’t even exist a week ago.
This concert was so out of character for Ollie. She never springs things on me like this. When she mentioned a few weeks ago that there mightbe a concert while I was in Milan, I figured it had fallen off the radar since I hadn’t heard anything else about it.
I make a mental note to check in with her later.
Cassie:Mmmhmmm, you’re too famous, your diamonds are too heavy, and your fans love you too much. Woe is you. Now. Sex!
Shaking my head, I dive right in, knowing she won’t let up until she gets what she wants. Plus, she has a point. I have no right to complain, since most people would kill to be in my shoes. Which are currently navy blue and white Chuck Taylors, not diamond-studded.
Violet:She rides my face regularly with two collars around my neck. One has a chain, and the other I’m only allowed to take off when I’m in the shower.
Cassie doesn’t say anything; she doesn’t have to. I know exactly what she’s going to say. When the three dots start popping up, I lift my scarf, take a selfie with the collar, and send it back to her.
The dots disappear and reappear.
Cassie:I adore you, best friend. That is the fucking sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Will you marry me?
Violet:We’ve had our marriage pact since first grade. It’s always been you, Cass.
She sends laughing emojis because we both know we could never date. Cassie’s style is dark hair, dark makeup, and dark clothes. Basically, anything that would scare Barbie.
I’m basically Barbie.
Not to mention the fact that Cassie is straighter than an uncooked spaghetti noodle.
We send a few more texts back and forth. I finally admit that I’m getting used to the way Skye handles things behind closed doors. I’m not ready to give this up yet, but there’s no way it can continue after I leave Milan.
