by Piper Rayne
“Are you sure that’s the reason?” Charlie leans back into the couch and folds his arms across his chest.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“Are you sure that the reason you told him you couldn’t be together is because of the press? And because of the fact that it could affect your careers?” he asks, shrugging his shoulders. I’m beginning to get where he was driving at.
“Yes, I guess.”
“Come on Katya, we both know that’s not the reason,” Charlie says, bumping my shoulder with his, as if trying to get me to confess.
He’s right though, that wasn’t the reason we couldn’t be together. I’d lied to myself, lied to him, tried to convince myself that the reason Vanya and I couldn’t be together was because of the media and the fact that our careers were at stake.
“You’re right, Charlie. It’s because I’m scared,” I say, finally telling him the truth as I wipe tears from the corner of my eyes again.
“What’s there to be scared about?”
“Everything!” I jump up. “When we were all over the news this morning, it annoyed me. Most of the time I can brush it off, but this really got to me because of how horrible they were to him. And how they make us out to be terrible people because we like each other. Does he deserve that, Charlie? Does he deserve to be raked through the mud just for spending time with me?”
“No.”
I rake my fingers through my hair and pace the room. “It all happened so quickly. I met him once and I couldn’t get him out of my head. I told myself all this time that it was nothing but a crush—a stupid teenage crush. But when I got to his place and he told me how he felt about me, I realized that I’d been denying it. And now it’s real.” I stop pacing and look at Charlie. “And I freaked out because I can’t handle what’s to come.”
“And what’s to come?” he asks.
“The storm, Charlie. Being with him is going to take a lot of effort and sacrifice, and I’m not sure I’m up to that,” I tell him. As soon as the words leave my lips, I feel bad, as if I shouldn’t be so selfish.
“There’s always going to be a storm, my dear. That’s how your life will be as long as you’re in the public eye.”
“I know Charlie, but I don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want to hurt him, either,” I tell him.
Fear. That’s the real reason. Fear of getting hurt. Fear of hurting him. Fear of what else the media will say about him and how it will affect his mind and career. We lead busy lives. We don’t live in the same city. We’re dedicated to different things—it will all get in the way.
“He’s a big boy. He can handle himself.” When I huff, Charlie leans forward and gives me a gentle smile. “You’re never going to know if you don’t give it a shot. And I know you want to give it a shot.”
“Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?” I ask throwing my hands in the air. Sometimes I feel like he doesn’t listen to me.
Charlie gets up and crosses the room to stand in front of me. He places his hands on my shoulders. “Look, Katya, I don’t know what you want me to say, but I’ll tell you this. You’re hurt already. Hurt because you really like him and you broke things off before you even got the chance to see how amazing it could be. Don’t make this into something you’ll regret down the road. Why not just give it a shot and see where it leads?” He leans forward and places a kiss on my forehead before shuffling to his room.
I’m lucky to have a coach like Charlie. He knows me inside and out—sometimes more than I know myself. When he gives me advice I listen, yet, if either of my parents said the same thing, I wouldn’t listen.
“Damn it,” I mumble.
What in the world did I do?
9
Katya
“In three… two….one, shoot!”
The music comes on, the fans start blowing, flashing lights, and the cameras start clicking. Today, I’m shooting a spread for a new tennis apparel line.
“Turn to the left. Good!” the photographer yells as I run through the poses we practiced earlier. I’m all glammed up for the shoot, yet still in my signature high pony tail. I’m sporting exclusives from a yet-to-be released collection, wielding a gold-colored tennis racket.
“I’m not feeling this,” Monica, the director of the shoot, yells as the cameras keep clicking, the lights flashing.
I’m doing the best I can; smiling the way they taught me to smile, posing the way they taught me to pose. But even I know I’m off, I can feel it in my forced smile and dull eyes. I’m not enjoying the shoot as I normally do.
“Alright, alright, stop the music, cut the fans.” Monica waves her hands. The entire place goes silent. “What’s wrong, Katya? Your energy has been off since we started shooting,” She speaks quickly, pushing her glasses up her nose with almost every word she said.
“I’m sorry, I ju—”
Monica places her hands on my shoulders. “Is it that time of the month?”
“What? No!” I shake my head and wiggle out of her arms. Placing my hands on my hips, I try to gain composure. “I have a million things on my mind for the match coming up. Can I get a quick break? Two minutes, please?”
“You need a break? Let’s take a break,” she says, then turns around to address the crew. “Five-minute break everyone!” she yells out to them before turning back to me. “You get five minutes, Katya, because I love that accent.” She winks before gingerly stepping off the stage, her exceptionally high heels making ‘click,’ ‘click’ sounds as she walks away.
I roll my eyes and jump off the set; Charlie’s waiting for me by the time I walk away from the lights.
“Are you okay?” he asks as he hands me a bottle of water.
“Yeah, sure,” I reply, tucking the racket under my arm.
He raises an eyebrow. There’s a mix of concern and curiosity in his eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I shrug and bring the bottle to my lips. “Why are you asking?”
“Well, Monica just said your energy is off.” He folds his arms and leans against the wall. He still has that look in his eyes.
“And?”
“Your energy has been off since last week. Ever since you broke things off with Vanya.” He shrugs. “Seems interesting.”
“You think what Monica said about the shoot has to do with Vanya?” I ask as I twist the cap to close the bottle.
“That’s exactly what I think,” he replies. “You were also off during most of our training sessions, so something’s definitely up with you.”
He’s right, of course. My mind hasn’t been right since that night in New York. I haven’t been able to get Vanya out of my head since that day.
I had tried, tried to distract myself, but the harder I tried to get him out of my head, the more I thought of him.
“For a coach who wants me to be focused on training, you sure care a lot about something that could be a huge distraction.”
“Seems to me, it’s already a distraction. And I much prefer happily distracted Katya. Happy Katya is fierce, strong, and gets her shit done because she knows she can do whatever she wants in her free time.”
I laugh. “That’s me all the time, Charlie. I’ve never let you down.”
“And I’ve never let you down.” He pushes himself off the wall and glances at the direction of the clicking of Monica’s heels returning to the set. “The Chargers are in town. They’re playing the Panthers tonight. I’m pretty sure I can get Katya Novikova into the game.”
“Times up people! We start shooting again in thirty seconds,” Monica calls.
“Go get ‘em, Tiger!” Charlie takes the water bottle from me and pushes me toward the set.
It’s exactly what I have to do—both on the set and tonight.
I adjust my wool hat and rub my hands together before shoving them back into the pockets of my cardigan, wishing I would have brought a pair of gloves. When I left my house, I underestimated how cold it was outside. The wind whips at my face as I rush to the are
na. I check my watch. A few minutes past nine p.m. Vanya’s game will be over soon, unless it goes into overtime.
All day, I’d thought about what Charlie said, and at the last minute, I decided to take his advice. I bought a ticket to the game, hoping I could use my celebrity status to get a pass to wait outside the visiting team’s locker room. Have I figured out what I’m going to say once I see him? No, but everything I’m going to tell him will be the truth.
I wait in the hallway near the locker room door for about fifteen minutes before the press starts filing out. I turn to the wall and shake my hair in front of my face so I’m not recognized. When the coast is clear, I turn around and stare at the door. As minutes tick by, it feels like watching a pot of boiling water.
It’s twenty more minutes before any players come out. A few of them walk out together, laughing and chatting happily, but most guys slip out alone with their collars up and rush down the hallway without looking around. Vanya comes out with two other players.
“Vanya!” I call out, waving at him. “Vanya!” I call again, louder this time as I finally get his attention. He says something to his teammates that I can’t hear, but he heads in my direction.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, giving me a forced smile. I hate seeing it, but I understand it. I was emotional and volatile, and I didn’t listen to him or trust him, pretty much everything a Russian man hates.
“I live here, silly,” I say, pushing hair behind my ear.
“Yeah.” He closes his eyes and shakes his head, as if annoyed with me. “I know that. I meant, why did you come here tonight?”
I freeze up for a few seconds, and when I finally managed to speak, all I can say is, “Charlie told me you had a game here tonight, so I decided to come.”
He sighs and glances toward the locker room door as another player comes out. “Well, thanks for coming. Hope you enjoyed it.”
He steps to the side, but I grab his forearm. “Vanya, please! I came here because I wanted to talk, to apologize.”
I don’t exactly know how I expected him to react to me saying that, but I didn’t expect him to keep mute. Instead of speaking, he looks at my hand before lifting his eyes to mine.
“Am I keeping you? Do you need to go with the team?” I point to his teammates who keep filing out of the room and walking down the long hallway, presumably toward the bus. I had to say something to distract him away from the staring contest. Looking into his eyes makes me feel guilty about the things I said to him the last time we saw each other.
“I can meet up with them later.” He clears his throat and pulls his trench coat closed. “You said you wanted to talk?” he asks. “Must be important for you to track me down at work.”
His joke eases some of the tension between us, and it makes me smile.
“Should we head back to your hotel then?”
“Let’s take a cab. It’s a cold night,” he replies, putting his hand on the small of my back and leading me through the hallway.
10
Katya
His hotel isn’t far, but it would have been a twenty-minute walk, so I’m glad he suggested taking a cab. Though, the small talk on the ride was a bit awkward. I held my tongue, not wanting to spill my heart out to him in a cab.
We got to the hotel about 10 minutes later just as he predicted. It starts to drizzle as we exit the cab, so we jog to the door. His hotel room is big and spacious, with two queen beds and bright, white dressers.
“Can I get you anything? A drink? Water?” he asks.
“No, I’m good.” I’m sitting on his bed with my hands in my lap, twisting my fingers nervously. My heart beats fast as I think about what to say, how to start it, how he’ll respond after how I acted in New York.
“I’m going to change quickly.” He nods toward the bathroom as if asking permission.
“Of course. I’ll be right here,” I say, patting the bed.
He grabs some clothes out of a suitcase and slips into the bathroom. He’s only been in there a few seconds when my eyes dart to the door. For some reason, I have an overwhelming desire to get rid of all this awkwardness by shoving him into the shower and lathering up his naked body. We can say everything we need to say while letting the warm water run over us as our hands run over each other.
I should be thinking of what I would tell him first, not creating a bathroom fantasy in my head. I’m nervous and excited at the same time, a weird, heart-pounding mix of both.
As nervous as I am about talking to him, and apologizing to him, I’m grateful to be in his room, on his bed. When I look around the room, I catch a glance of myself in the mirror above the dresser.
“Oh God!” I snatch the beanie off my head and fluff my hair a few times, rubbing my roots with my fingertips to give it a little volume. I’m still primping when the bathroom door opens.
“Hope you didn’t miss me too much.” He flashes me a small smile as enters the room again. He changed into a white T-shirt that shows off every single ripple of muscle underneath and a pair of black shorts.
“I always miss you, Vanya,” I reply.
He sits beside me on the edge of the bed, my nose catching a hint of mint, as I feel his weight push the bed in. “You went out of your way to see me. What did want to talk about?”
I’ve avoided eye contact, but with him sitting right there beside me, it’s no longer possible. When I look into his eyes, I see questions, questions only I have the answer to. I open my mouth to speak, but the words are stuck. I’ve never been so nervous to talk to someone in my life.
“I—we—” I pause to gather my thoughts. It shouldn’t be this hard to apologize. “The last time we saw each other, I told you that we couldn’t be together. And, I gave you the wrong reasons.”
“What? I’m sorry, I’m not following.” He’s confused, just as I expected him to be.
“When the papers said all those things about us, and I told you that we couldn’t be together because of noise from the media. That it could affect our careers—” I say the words in one breath. I pause, then look up to face him again. My heart thumps so fast and hard, I’m sure he can hear it. “I lied to you. I lied to myself.”
“How did you lie?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. “The reason I said we couldn’t be together was because I was scared. I’ve never felt this way for anyone before. I thought I felt something with Zhenya, but what I feel for you goes a million times beyond that, it’s much deeper.” I’m on a roll, connecting thoughts to words properly now. Probably because it’s coming straight from my heart, with no holds barred.
“I understand, Sunshine. I’ve never felt like this for anyone, either,” he says gently, moving closer to me on the bed and taking my hand in his. “I know you’re scared, and this is going to take effort on both of our parts; but, I told you I’m willing to give it a chance if you are.”
“It’s going to take a lot, Vanya,” I say pensively. Then I put my other hand on top of his and smile. “But we’re used to that, right? Crazy schedules? Making time for things that we really want?”
“Nothing worth anything in this life comes easy. We both know that. I’m willing to give you my all.” There’s genuine sincerity and excitement in his words. His gaze captures mine. “I want you, Katya.”
He lifts his hand to my face and caresses my cheek, moving even closer, so our thighs are flush against each other’s. His eyes aren’t questioning anymore, they’re demanding.
I bite my lip in anticipation of what’s to come.
“I want you, too,” I whisper, bringing my hands to his face. “I want you, Vanya.”
I can feel the passion radiating in the room. I’ve dreamed of this moment longer than he has—as my crush on him started well before he ever knew who I was.
I close my eyes just as his lips touch mine. My body comes alive, humming as he draws me into his arms, closing the gap between us. The kiss isn’t like any we’ve ever shared. No, this one is much better. The l
ast time we were just two people kissing, one of us unsure about what she wanted. But this time, we’re two hearts aligned. Two people who know what they want and are ready to go for it.
I moan softly as our bodies play an erotic game of push and pull as his hands start sliding down my body. His tongue finds its way into my mouth, clashing with mine once, twice, curling, tugging, until I’ve gotten a proper taste of him and realize I’ll never have enough.
The passion gets deeper, swirling through my body, sending pulses between my legs as it takes control. His hands slide across my back, my arms, pulling me onto his lap. The pressure intensifies, kisses get harder and deeper, creating a rhythm I enjoy. His tongue lashes mine with an urgent need I’ve never experienced before.
Vanya doesn’t stop exploring, his hands slipping underneath my sweater, and lifting until he’s easing it off. My body shudders, and my heart races. I knew from the moment our lips touched that we weren’t going to stop tonight. I lean into him, yearning for the next step.
When he lifts his lips from mine, I almost protest, but then I feel his warm breath on my collarbone before his lips finally descend.
“Oh Vanya,” I moan, tilting my head to one side, giving him room to explore. His tongue flicks out, teasing as he moves down, his lips grazing the valley between my breasts. I bite into my lower lip as pure pleasure travels up and down the length of my spine.
Then, his warm hands slide over the bare skin of my stomach, and he slips his thumbs underneath the soft fabric of my bra as he kisses my neck. His touch sets me on fire, leaving a trail of heat as he explores. Slowly, he moves from the small of my back until his fingers hover at the clasp of my bra. He pauses to look into my eyes. His are filled with lust and hunger—and it’s all for me. He takes my mouth again with a renewed passion. I match his intensity as I return the kiss.
Vanya unclips my bra, then slides the straps off my shoulders easily. My breasts spill out, nipples taut with excitement. He lifts his mouth, licking his bottom lip as he lowers his gaze to my breasts. He takes one in his hand, his fingers grazing it before giving it a gentle squeeze.