by Tara Wyatt
Dylan laughed. “I’ve missed you, Mags. I know you probably didn’t miss me, and I can’t blame you, but you need to know that I thought about you. A lot.”
She sucked in a breath and nodded, unsure what to say to that because despite the pain he’d caused her, she couldn’t deny that she had missed him. But she couldn’t tell him that, so she changed the subject, steering them back onto safer ground. Don’t be the bird. Don’t get sucked into certain destruction.
“I need to go check on some things. See you at the dunk tank?”
Wariness flickered across his face, but then he chased it away with a smile. “Yeah. I’ll come find you.”
Before she could say anything else, she turned and fled in the opposite direction, needing some space to figure out what the hell she was feeling.
Cold water dripped into Dylan’s eyes, and he brushed it away, then swiped a hand over his hair, dislodging more drops. His uniform was soaked through and stuck to his skin like glue, and he was starting to get chilly, but his discomfort didn’t matter. The kids were having an absolute blast sending him splashing into the water.
Another kid stepped up to the line for his turn, and Dylan stuck his tongue out at him, egging him on. The boy, maybe ten or eleven, narrowed his eyes and focused on the large button at the center of a bullseye, took aim and threw the baseball, which hit the metal release with a sharp ding, sending Dylan right back into the water. He popped back up, shaking his fist in pretend anger at the laughing boy.
Gripping the edge of the tank, he reset the seat and hauled himself back onto it. His cleats were ruined, but it was worth it, both for the smiles on the kids’ faces, and to be able to do Maggie a favor. He was starting to realize he’d do just about anything she asked of him if it meant a second chance at being with her. She hadn’t responded to his admission earlier that he’d never stopped thinking about her, and it had left him a little off-balance, but he was trying to remember that it was all about baby steps. And the baby step there was that she hadn’t shut him down or pulled the plug on what they had going.
“You doing okay?” Maggie asked from beside the dunk tank, looking up at him with concern.
He nodded. “Sure. Kids are having a great time.”
“I know, but you’re soaked through and that water’s not very warm. I think it’s probably time to wrap this up.” He didn’t miss the way her eyes lingered on his chest. His sopping wet uniform didn’t leave much to the imagination. Despite the chill on his skin, his insides heated at the feeling of Maggie’s eyes on him. He was already imagining all the ways she could help him warm up.
After the last few kids who’d already lined up had had their turn, dunking Dylan once more, the dunk tank was officially closed. He climbed out, water coursing off of him and goosebumps coating his skin. Maggie met him with a large, fluffy towel that felt like it was fresh out of the dryer, wrapped it around his shoulders and then motioned for him to follow her off the field. He did, leaving a soggy trail behind him, his wrecked cleats making undignified squelching sounds as he walked.
Maggie led him past the visiting team’s bullpen and to a small storage room. When she opened the door, a rush of warm air greeted him. He stepped inside, sighing as his muscles relaxed, the grip of cold starting to loosen.
“I thought you might be cold,” she said, reaching out and rubbing the towel against his arms.
“Thanks.” He closed his eyes for a second, letting himself enjoy the feeling of Maggie’s hands working the towel over his arms. He was perfectly capable of operating his own towel, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.
“You’re welcome. It’s the least I could do after you helped out by volunteering for the dunk tank. I was getting worried about you in there.”
Her concern warmed him even more. “Like I said before, I’m happy to help.” Especially if it was for her. He needed her to see that he’d grown, that he wasn’t the same stupid teenager who’d thrown away the best thing that had ever happened to him.
Once again, her eyes roved over his body, his wet uniform still clinging to his body. He stood still, letting her look. Her nipples beaded beneath her Longhorns T-shirt and he bit back a groan. Needing a distraction before he tried to fuck her right here in the storage room, he took the towel from her and rubbed it over his hair and face. When he pulled it away, it was smeared with face paint. Shit. He’d forgotten all about Kaylee’s handiwork.
Maggie started to laugh. “You’ve somehow made it worse,” she said, and then held out her hand. “Here, give me the towel. I think I can get it off.”
He handed it to her and with slow, careful strokes, she rubbed the point of the towel over his cheek. He wasn’t sure if it was the heat of the room, or the heat of Maggie’s body so close to his, but he wasn’t cold anymore. No, he was burning, his heated blood scorching him from the inside out.
His hands practically vibrated with the need to touch her, and unable to help himself, he skimmed them over her waist and to her hips. She made a soft humming sound and continued to gently wipe away the face paint, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. He let his eyes wander over her as she worked. He studied the delicate features of her face and the soft curves of her body. It felt like she got more beautiful every time he looked at her. Like he couldn’t breathe right around her. He dipped his head and kissed her, a soft, slow kiss that made her sigh and press into him. Taking his time, he let one of his hands wander from her hip to the outer curve of her breast, teasing with light touches. The towel in her hands hit the floor as she wound her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss and stroking her tongue against his.
“Mags,” he whispered, moving to pull her tighter against him, but she suddenly pulled away. Clearing her throat, she wrapped her arms around herself and glanced around the room.
“Don’t call me that,” she said softly, shaking her head as she stared off. Shit, they were back to that. Dylan sighed and forced himself to smile, aiming for rueful.
“Sorry. Old habits.”
She just nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. Her eyebrows knitted together, little lines digging in between them. Dammit. He’d freaked her out with what he’d said earlier.
“So listen,” he said, changing the subject, pretending everything was fine. “I got roped into going to this charity thing on Friday night. It’s a casino night to raise money for the Dallas Children’s Health Foundation, and they gave me an extra ticket. You should come with me.”
“Like, as your date?”
He was smart enough to shake his head. “As my friend. C’mon, it’ll be fun. Don’t make me go alone.”
Her eyebrows rose slowly as she thought. “Okay. As your friend. Sure.” She didn’t sound sure, but she’d said yes, so he’d take it.
It was all about baby steps.
Ten
Advice on ice was a tradition Maggie and her friends had started a couple of years ago. It had all begun one hot summer day when Aubrey was navigating a sticky situation with a neighbor and had turned to the crew for advice over margaritas. Then, a few months later, Jess had done the same thing when she was struggling with whether or not to come out to her grandparents. Over drinks and snacks, they talked over the problem and each doled out advice. Now, anytime one of them was facing a dilemma, all they had to do was group text “advice on ice” with a date and time and the squad would gather.
And although Maggie was in desperate need of some advice, this time it was Laurel who’d texted everyone. They all sat on her living room floor, a repeat of the Real Housewives of Atlanta playing quietly on the TV in the background. A frosty pitcher of margaritas sat on the coffee table, along with a tray of take out sushi and dumplings.
“Okay, so what’s going on?” asked Aubrey, her graceful legs stretched in front of her, her back resting against the front of the couch.
“All right, you know Julia and Angela, my sisters-in-law?” asked Laurel. They all nodded. “So Angela is a total social media addict, and she takes a ton of pics to
post on Insta. You guys know social media isn’t my fave, so I don’t post much and don’t even go on that much. Anyway, I was having lunch with Julia the other day, and she told me that Angela edits the photos she posts to make me look heavier. I didn’t believe her, so she showed me a before and after on her phone, since she had the original pic, and the one Angela had edited.”
“What?” said Jess, her mouth hanging open. “That’s insane.”
“Was there a big difference between the pictures?” asked Maggie.
“There was. I mean, this is totally weird, right? And I have no idea what to say to Angela. I don’t know her that well, and I don’t want to cause family drama. But, like, I want to know why she’s doing it, and obviously tell her to stop, but…” She trailed off and shrugged. “I guess they’re her photos and she can do what she wants with them. Maybe I just won’t be in photos she takes anymore? I’m just so uncomfortable with this and have no idea what to do.”
“You have every right not to be in pics with her if you’re not comfortable with it,” said Aubrey.
“Um, yeah, and you have every right to ask her what the hell’s up, too,” said Jess through a mouthful of dumpling.
“Do you know if she does this to other people, too?” asked Maggie.
Laurel shook her head. “I don’t know. Julia didn’t say.”
“Well, I think you should ask her about it.” Maggie took a sip of her drink. “Maybe it’s a jealousy or an insecurity thing.” Given that Laurel was model-gorgeous with her tall, lithe frame, auburn waves, bright green eyes and wide smile, it was entirely possible.
“And I’d go through her pics to see how often she’s doing it and how big a difference she’s making so that when you do ask her about it, she can’t just deny it,” said Aubrey. “Bring those receipts.”
“You’re not the one in the wrong here,” said Jess. “So don’t feel like you’re the bad guy for questioning her. Because you’re not.”
“So you think I should just ask her, point blank?” asked Laurel, looking uncertain. “I’m upset and confused, but I also don’t want this to be like a family thing, you know? What if she denies it and it just causes tension? My parents already don’t love her—they’re still warming up to her, and if my mom found out about this, she’d be so pissed off. I feel like she looks for an excuse to not like Angela.”
“I know it’s a tricky situation,” said Jess. “But I think you should ask her and see what she says. Not that there’s much of an excuse for that.”
“Right, but keep an open mind,” said Maggie, chewing on a cuticle. “Listen to what she has to say and then decide if you want to keep taking pictures with her.”
“Or keep hanging out with her at all,” said Jess.
“Well, they’re family, so she won’t have much of an option there,” Aubrey pointed out. “I agree that you should ask her and hear her out and then decide what to do from there.”
They spent the next little while unraveling the situation and chiming in with their thoughts while taking breaks to watch the drama unfolding on TV. After about half an hour of discussion, Laurel nodded and polished off her drink, pouring herself another from the pitcher. “Okay, I’ll talk to her. Thanks, guys. Y’all always give good advice.” She took a sip and then turned her attention to Maggie. “So, how are things going with Dylan?”
Maggie ran a finger around the rim of her glass, scooping up some salt and then licking it off. “I…I don’t know.”
“Why, what’s going on? Is the sex not what you hoped it would be?” asked Aubrey, leaning forward to study Maggie, who blushed.
“No, it’s not that. The sex…God, the sex is amazing. He’s amazing.” She shook her head sadly, feeling lost. How could someone who’d broken her heart so easily also be amazing? He’d tossed her away without a backwards glance, but here he was, sweet and thoughtful and funny and great in bed. Just the thought of him made her stomach dip and swirl in a way it shouldn’t if they were really, truly nothing but friends.
“Do you think it’s helping you get the closure you were looking for?” asked Laurel.
Maggie popped a piece of sushi in her mouth to stall for time, then shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not even sure what I was looking for at the beginning anymore. I wanted the chance to say goodbye to him and end things on my terms…to get him out of my system and know everything between us was in the past, safely buried. But now, everything’s so mixed up.”
“In what way?” asked Jess.
“We had all these rules we agreed to. No sleepovers, no cuddling, booty calls only, etc. And we keep breaking them. And I don’t care that we’re breaking them. We agreed on boundaries and we just keep going out of bounds and I’m terrified because I like it. You know he said he wanted to be friends?” she asked, picking up steam. “One morning, he tells me that he wants us to be friends. That he wants to get to know me and spend time together. Then, he tells me that he’s thought about me a lot over the past ten years, and he’s just so…so sweet all the time, but also like manly and protective. I mean, what is that?”
“Yeah, what an asshole,” said Laurel flatly. “I don’t know how you put up with that.”
“But now we’re spending time together and sleeping together and I don’t know what we are. It’s confusing and scary and it’s stressing me out.” The words came out in a tumbling rush, and when she was finished speaking, she took a healthy gulp of her drink.
“Whoa, whoa, okay,” said Aubrey, rubbing her shoulder. “Let’s unpack this and figure it out. You started sleeping with Dylan to get closure because he broke your heart ten years ago.”
“Right.”
“And the sex is good.”
“Yeah.”
“And now that you’ve reconnected, he’s said that he wants to be friends and get to know you.”
“Mmmhmm.”
“And what do you want?”
Maggie blew out a long breath through her nose. “I wish I knew.” She bit her lip and toyed with a loose thread hanging from the hem of her T-shirt. “Do you guys think it’s possible for a man and a woman having a sexual relationship—who have a romantic history—to just be friends without getting feelings involved?”
A silence fell over the group as they all chewed and sipped thoughtfully. Finally, Jess spoke. “Don’t take my word on this because I haven’t dated a dude since high school, but…Uh, probably not? I think the chances of someone’s feelings getting involved are pretty damn high in that situation.”
“Which is what I warned you about,” said Aubrey kindly. “So now you have to figure out what you want.”
Maggie clenched and unclenched her fists, frustration rolling through her. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I want more, but then I remember the past. And what if I put myself out there, and he doesn’t want more? I don’t know if I can take that kind of humiliation again. Ugh. I did this for closure, and I don’t even know what that means anymore.”
“Maybe you were just looking for an excuse to get close to him again,” suggested Laurel. “You two definitely have unfinished business. Is it so bad if it doesn’t end in ‘closure,’” she asked, making air quotes around the word, “like you thought it would?”
“What if this is the Universe or whatever pulling you two back together?” asked Jess.
“What if he just breaks my heart again?” Maggie asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. Her stomach twisted as she voiced her deep-seated fear out loud.
“You told me that I should just ask Angela what’s up. Maybe you should do the same with Dylan. People change a lot in ten years. You need to know why he broke up with you, and how things could be different this time around.”
Why was it so easy to give advice, and yet so difficult to follow it? Maggie wondered, tracing a pattern through Laurel’s carpet.
“Oh my God, did she just throw a drink in her face?” asked Aubrey. She waved her hand at the remote on the coffee table. “Gimme that. Oh, we gotta rewind this.”
<
br /> Laurel leaned over and gave Maggie’s arm a squeeze. “Figure out what you want and then go for it.”
It was a question Maggie mulled over for the rest of the evening, and on the drive home. What did she want? Did she want to be with Dylan, to give the two of them a second chance? Maybe. Probably. It felt good being with Dylan, plain and simple. And yet she couldn’t get past how he’d hurt her. And she didn’t know what he wanted now. What if this was just sex to him? A fun little fling, a blast from the past. The idea made her throat ache.
Oh, shit. She was in trouble, wasn’t she?
“I’m such an idiot,” she muttered to herself as she walked up the stairs to her apartment. What had she thought would happen when she got involved with Dylan again? She should’ve just stayed away from him instead of jumping into bed with him like the sex-starved lunatic she apparently was. Because now, she was a mess. She felt tangled and torn and like a puzzle put together all wrong.
As she climbed the last few steps and rounded the corner to her hallway, her footsteps slowed when she saw the large, rectangular box sitting by her front door. For a second, she racked her brain, trying to remember if she’d bought anything online recently. Frowning, she picked up the surprisingly heavy box and let herself in to her apartment. She dropped the box on her bed and then picked at the tape holding the lid down with her fingernail until she was able to peel it off. The lid slid away, revealing overlapping gold tissue paper. She parted the paper and gasped. Nestled inside was a stunning pale gold gown, sparkling with what looked like Swarovski crystals. She slipped her fingers under the thin beaded straps and gently pulled it out of the box, her heart beating wildly in her chest. Intricate crystal beading covered the bodice in a stunning Art Deco-style pattern. A sheer tulle skirt flowed from the waist, dropping down in a cascade of shimmering fabric. She gasped when she saw the label. Chanel.
Holy shit. A Chanel gown. This had to be a mistake. This wasn’t her dress. She couldn’t afford anything like this. God, this dress probably cost half a year’s salary. Gingerly, she set the dress down on her bed, afraid she’d somehow ruin it and have to spend the next ten years paying it off. An envelope peeking through the tissue paper caught her eye, and she opened it, pulling out a single rectangle of thick white card stock.