But I’m not his. Jared Hargrove has no say over me. I tell myself I don’t want him to even as liquid hot lust scorches over my body.
“I’d love to.” I turn back to Grant and take his arm without him having to offer.
This is safer. There is no way I’ll even remotely fall in love with this guy.
I can still feel Jared’s gaze on my body even as we get into the cab outside.
12
Jared
“I’m so fucking stoked to see this movie. Jason Statham is the fucking man!”
Duke rubs my shoulders like we’re about to do battle instead of walk into a darkly lit movie theater.
“Yeah, yeah … don’t spill my popcorn.” I grumble at him.
He convinced me to go to a movie, the latest action thriller he has been dying to see. And since we’ve been in Pittsburgh and now Hershey, Pennsylvania, there is not much else to do. A week of driving through rural suburbs and performing two shows a day, I thought it might be nice to do something other than sit on a crowded, smelly bus.
“Thank God we’re going to North Carolina tomorrow. I need some warmer weather.” We head into the theater and Duke bounds up the steps, snagging two seats in the exact middle of the top row.
“Yeah, that’ll actually be nice,” I say, but my head is somewhere else.
We sit and he slurps his Mountain Dew before turning to me. “Dude, if you’re still so pissed that she went out with Grant Lawrence, you shouldn’t have let her go. You should have said something. This pussy attitude is so not like you. And it’s killing my vibe.”
I nearly drop my popcorn on the floor. I hadn’t realized he would catch on to how shitty my mood has been since we left Buffalo.
“It’s not that simple.” He doesn’t realize all of the shit Peyton and I have put each other through.
“Dude. You like her. She likes you. I mean, that’s obvious. We all see you two eye-fucking the shit out of each other. If you don’t want her to date other dudes, go claim that shit. Stop being a bitch.”
“Great pep talk.” I laugh, but it doesn’t feel right.
I could have breathed fire that night. The night in that VIP room when she shot me a look and proceeded to walk out on some doofus’s arm. He was a frat guy, a dumb hockey jock with no brains and fake teeth. I wanted to punch his lights out and throw her over my shoulder and drag her to my cave.
“Why is it that no other woman makes me feel like murdering someone? Why her?”
“Isn’t it always the ones we can’t have that we want the most?” Duke answers me, but I see something in his eyes. Something resembling first-hand knowledge.
“Ain’t that the truth.” I nod my head and shove a handful of salty popcorn into my mouth.
Some new pop song blares from the speakers while movie trivia plays before the previews start.
“What happened between you two anyway?”
Duke’s been badgering me about it for weeks, and I’m finally too tired to avoid telling him. “We were together. In London.”
“Anddddd?” Duke gives one of those girly waves for me to go on.
“And it was perfect. We’d always danced around each other, and after we both won gold, we went for it. Spent a week together doing nothing but talking, and … well, you get the picture. And then we were due to come home. I wanted to stay together, she felt trapped. I tried to make her be with me and she tried to run for the hills. Things were said, the kind of things you can never take back. It ended.”
“And you’ve never talked about it?” He’s sitting on the edge of his seat.
“There have been two other screaming matches, some late night drunk texting, but the last fight was six months ago.”
“Well, you have to talk about it! Jesus, everyone around you both can see that you’re like planets or moons orbiting each other. You’re always going to be pulled in by her. Figure it out!”
“How do I figure it out? How do I make someone stay with me who is so intent on sprinting in the other direction?”
Duke looks past me, down the stairs. “Looks like you might get your first chance right now.”
Natalia, Julia and Peyton walk into the theater, arms loaded with popcorn and candy.
“God dammit …”
“You cursed! Oh this girl does get a rise out of you!” Duke howls and waves them up.
“Hey guys!” Nat smiles and maneuvers into the row, trapping Peyton between myself and her. I know exactly what she’s doing … it’s crossed my mind a time or two that Spence told her exactly what went on in London.
Peyton looks mildly caught off guard, but smoothes it over with her faux smugness. “Funny seeing you here, did we crash your double date?”
“More like my date with Mr. Statham. But I’ll let you all stay if Julia sits next to me.” He pats the folded seat next to him.
“I’ve got nothing better to do. Plus, I can annoy you by talking through the movie and telling you every inaccurate thing that happens.” She shrugs and climbs over our knees.
I’m still too mad at Peyton to look at her, so I talk across her and address Natalia. “How is Spence doing?”
Her eyes go dreamy. “He’s really good, misses us but the gym is keeping him super busy. Attendance is soaring after the Games and he can barely leave the building. I think he’s actually sleeping there …”
I chuckle. “Seems like Spence. He always did oddly love the smell of chalk.”
“And you always loved the smell of the honey you put on your hands for pommel horse.” Peyton looks at me, a question of forgiveness in her eyes.
Our friends go quiet, pretending to look at their phones or joke about the movie trivia.
“We did well in the show last night.” Peyton references the dance number we have together.
To be honest, it was a good show. The crowd was alive; we were in sync with all of the other pairs. But I was detached, cold. I tried not to let my fingers feel her skin, tried to think of anything else than her curves under my hands.
“I try to do my best every show.” I turn towards the screen, trying to ignore the itchy feeling setting into my bones.
The lights dim and the no cellphone messages start popping up.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice is a whisper as everyone starts to open their candy and munch on their popcorn around us.
My jaw hangs open. I’ve never heard her apologize before. “Huh?”
“I’m sorry … for the other night.”
I brush it off like it doesn’t matter. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Then why are you acting like we never had the talk about being cordial? Because you sure seem pissed off to me.”
Her jab sets something off in me. I whisper yell, “I am being cordial, I’m sitting next to you in a movie right now, aren’t I? I told you before, I wasn’t going to try to interfere or come to your rescue. You’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. I got it.”
I must be louder than I think because two girls four rows down are looking back at us. Great. I grab a handful of popcorn and jam it in my mouth before I can stick my foot in it again. Thank God for previews, which have just started blaring out of the screen.
The movie starts with Jason Statham kicking ass while a hot girl drapes herself over him. And it continues much the same way.
My focus, however, is elsewhere. I try to get into the gunfights and steamy sex scenes … except all I can think about is Peyton sitting right next to me. The smell of her hair, spicy cinnamon, wafting over every time she shifts in her seat. The twitch of her fingers as she lays it in the armrest between us. The tiny, bell-like laughter that tinkles out of her mouth during the humorous scenes.
And then, about an hour and a half into the movie, she brushes her leg against mine. A jolt of electricity sizzles up my body that I swear is so loud, everyone in the theater can hear the crackle. I see Peyton jump beside me, clearly a mistake that she connected us in such an innocent way.
But it didn’t
feel innocent. I’m raring to go, my cock already thickening in my pants. I have to dig my fingers into my jeans to keep from grabbing her, my body so keyed up that I might tackle her right between the seats. My ears are buzzing and my balls are on fire, drawn tight and throbbing for release. It’s insane that with just one touch, over our pants no less, this woman can get me going like no one else.
I slowly turn my head, no one around us the wiser to what is happening in the back row of this movie theater. I connect with Peyton’s hazel eyes, her irises now dilated with need. Her chest is rising and falling, fast, like she’s out of breath after completing a floor routine. Her black hair falls in waves down over her shoulders, her cheeks flushed even in the dim lighting of Jason Statham shooting up an office building.
As our eyes meet, I feel something brush my leg again. Only this time … it stays there. My eyes flick down to see our jean-clad knees touching, heat and electricity sparking through our skin underneath.
We’re candles, melting together with no hope of not burning out. Not completely disintegrating. But we burn together anyway, because we have no choice but to get closer and closer as the flames take us down.
13
Peyton
“Jared, Peyton … see me in the conference room upstairs after you change.”
Gail walks away, leaving us all looking at her after her heels have hit the escalator.
“Guess I’ll see you in a few minutes?” Jared is at least talking to me now.
“Um, more like an hour or so. I have to shower … you know, like a normal person who has just vigorously performed for two hours.” I roll my eyes good-naturedly at him.
“He does like to sit in his own filth.” Ryan slaps Jared’s shoulder as he runs by into the locker room.
I make my way toward the girl’s changing space and peel out of my clothes before stepping into the large room of open showers. I can’t imagine all of the football players showering in this locker room together. Actually, I can. And it’s probably a much nicer visual to me than it is to the men who actually do it.
North Carolina has been much better than anywhere else on the tour so far. We’ve hit a couple of the college stadiums in the Durham area, and we’ve just finished performing at the Professional Football stadium down here. The warmer weather seems to be putting everyone in a good mood. Even Gail, who always seems to look like she’s really uptight or about to cry.
And things with Jared are … tense. Our relationship has always been all over the place. Hot and heavy one second, flirtatious and circling the next. Downright nasty and unhealthy, and then we’re cordial or ignoring each other. There wasn’t a starting point for us becoming a tornado of emotions; it was like the universe designed us to be like that. Me, the free gypsy spirit, and him, the controlling golden boy. We shouldn’t want each other. But for some reason, we’re like magnets that, no matter how hard we try to repel each other, can never fully break apart.
As the hot water washes over my head, I think back to our last major fight. Nearly six months ago, after Jenkinson’s.
Strong hands lift me into a truck, and the world spins a little as I plant my ass in the seat.
“I can get myself home. I’m not even ready to go home!” I yell at the hand closing the door.
A second later, the interior lights come back on, and the hottest man I’ve ever seen in my life climbs in beside me, turning the key in the ignition.
“You’ve had quite enough, Peyton. Do you have no regard for making it to Rio? Are you that dumb? One or two beers is fine, but five tequila shots? Really? It’s like you don’t even care if you make the team.”
Jared Hargrove berating me would usually get me fired up, but all of the alcohol has numbed me, rendered me without a rational thought.
“Oh shut up, you asshole! All you care about is gymnastics. And let’s not even pretend you care about me!” There, that will show him.
He pulls onto the Parkway, which is nearly empty at this hour of the night. The lights swerve and dance in front of my eyes, the alcohol sloshing around in my stomach.
“I don’t care about you? I don’t care about you!? Are you kidding me, Peyton? I begged you, tried to keep you with me, because I cared about you so much. I told you I was in love with you! And you couldn’t say it back.”
His accusations hit hard, making me blink back tears in my inebriated state. “Because you threatened to end my career, spread lies about me if I didn’t commit to you. That’s not me, Jared! I’m not the girl you bring home to mom, and I’m not the one who will stay where she’s told.”
He punches the steering wheel. “I guess there are things we both regret saying. Or not saying in your case.”
It’s the last thought that pings against my skull before I wretch all over his glove compartment.
An hour later I’m upstairs in the office suite of the stadium, standing in the glass box overlooking the enclosed field.
“You look nice.” Jared’s deep southern drawl pulls me from my thoughts.
I fight the blush creeping up my neck and smooth my hands down my black cocktail dress. “You clean up rather nice yourself.”
He looks drop dead gorgeous in his navy blue suit. We’re silent, but you can cut the nervous air with a knife. It’s like we’re sixth graders circling around each other at a dance for the first time.
And then Gail walks in. “Thank you both for meeting me up here. So here’s the deal, we have a Make a Wish child who’s only wish was to see the show, and then have dinner with you two. So that’s what we’re going to do. I don’t want to hear any arguing, and you better behave yourselves and put on a goddamn show for this little girl.”
Jared and I look at each other before I respond. “That won’t be a problem. What is her name?”
Gail swallows with relief in her eyes. “Her name is Ruby, and she’s eight. She has a late stage form of leukemia, and she’s been in and out of hospitals and treatments since she was five. She loves gymnastics, and you two. There is a car downstairs waiting for you, you’re meeting her at the restaurant. Stay as long as she wants, she can have whatever she likes.”
Tears clog in my throat. For as difficult and humiliating as my childhood was, I can’t imagine the hell this little girl has gone through. I’ll smile until my cheeks fall off if it means she can have one night free of pain and suffering. A tiny pang of fear hits my stomach at how real this situation is, so much more real and adult than any I’ve had in my life and she’s only eight.
Jared and I walk towards the car together, an unspoken anxiousness at the night ahead drifting between us. Not only do we have to make Ruby’s night, but we are also going to dinner. With each other.
We’re all dressed up, getting in a cab alone. Flashbacks of our victory night in London hit me. The first night we ever slept together. The night he flipped my world upside down, and it’s never spun right again.
“Doesn’t this remind you of …” Jared trails off, touching a finger to his lip as if he’s surprised that southern drawl gave his thoughts away.
“Actually, I was just thinking the exact same thing. That was quite a night.”
He shakes his head, laughing softly. In all of the turmoil between us, I’d forgotten how truly radiant we were during the good moments. How high we’d soared, how fast we’d swung.
“Let’s make tonight a great night. Ruby deserves it.”
14
Jared
Peyton is good with kids. Who in their right mind would have assumed?
“This hat is just so pretty. Who needs dumb hair when you have a pretty pink hat like this?” Peyton lets Ruby put little butterfly clips all over her head as the little girl sits in her lap.
She’s been playing with and complimenting the adorable eight-year-old all night, much to Ruby’s amusement. They’ve colored, talked about Barbie’s, and even ordered the same dish of chicken mac-n-cheese. Sure, I’ve been here to contribute in the gymnastics talk, but Peyton is the real star of the show.
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I feel the ice around my heart thawing completely at this side of her.
“Look, our food is here! Yum, I’m so hungry, you must be too.” Peyton doesn’t bother moving Ruby off her lap, just rolls with the vibe and starts spooning cheesy pasta into both of their mouths.
Ruby is frail and thin, her coloring too white and the amount of clothes keeping her body warm swarm her tiny figure. My heart aches for her and her family; I could never imagine watching someone I loved go through this. Especially a child. Her mom had looked at us with tears and admiration in her eyes when we’d shown up. The tour manager had booked her a massage while we had dinner with Ruby, giving her a treat and down time for herself.
“Is he your boyfriend?” Ruby asks Peyton as they eat together.
Peyton nearly chokes on a noodle. “Um … no. Jared and I are just really good friends.”
“Oh, I thought you were married because you’re so pretty and he’s so cute and I think you really should be married because you’re both really good at gymnastics.”
Ruby spews her diatribe as she tucks into her mac-n-cheese, and I can barely contain my laugh as I fork a piece of steak into my mouth. Kids thoughts are jumbled and not rational, but hearing that Peyton and I should be married because we’re both good at gymnastics is hilarious to me. As if that’s the only criteria for building a life together.
“You know what, Ruby? I think you’re right.” I can’t help but humor her.
And watch Peyton’s face go beet red. The woman couldn’t even admit that she loved me. I know the word marriage is sending off alarm codes and exit signs in her brain.
“I could be the flower girl if you want. And I could carry pink flowers and throw them out of my basket and …” Ruby goes on about her dream flower girl scenario as I stare at Peyton.
Since the movie theater, with her breaching the space between us both physically and emotionally, something has shifted. Something is always shifting with us, but this time it feels different. More mature, more real. Just more.
Grasping Air (Flipped Book 2) Page 6