by Vivian Lux
I couldn't help but laugh. Olivia always managed to make me laugh, no matter how much I wanted to throttle her. "You're giving this an inordinate amount of thought."
"It's a delicate balance," she agreed. She licked her lips and grinned. "I could stop by the legal department tomorrow, get something hammered out in writing."
"Jesus Christ, Olivia," I sighed. "So what you're proposing is basically a part-time fuck-buddy sort of arrangement?"
"I like that," she nodded. "That's a good name. I'll bring you to work functions, introduce you as Bradley Scott, my part-time fuck buddy." She slid off the edge of the sink and extended her hand. "So, do we have a deal?"
Sure, Olivia. I'll let you think you've got things the way you want them...with me at arm's length. "I think that works for me," I agreed, accepting her outstretched hand.
She held on to me for just one moment longer than "terms and negotiations" would deem necessary. Then she looked up at me with mischief in her eye.
"What?"
"Getting groped in here was fun and all," she said, shifting around a little. "But I really do have to pee."
"You've peed in front of me like a million times before."
She ducked her head. "That was under the terms of the old arrangement."
"We had an arrangement before, too?"
"Of course, Scott. Not my fault if you weren't paying attention."
"Refresh my memory. What was our summertime arrangement again?"
She ducked her head and I could practically see the gears whirling in her head. She hadn't thought to name it until just now because she never thought she'd have to revisit this. "Exclusive fuck-buddies."
"Ah."
"Yes."
"We were exclusive?"
"Weren't we?"
Her chest rose and fell. "I thought we were."
I wanted to fucking touch her so badly right now. "We were."
She nodded and didn't say anything to agree. But she didn't need to.
"So under the part-time fuck-buddies arrangement, I need to give you privacy now?" I asked.
She looked me full in the eye. "Please."
"Okay." I nodded. "See you."
She nodded again. She brushed a distracted kiss across my lips.
Then she pushed me out of the bathroom and shut the door in my face. I heard the bolt catch, shutting me out.
But I didn't give a shit. I was smiling.
Because that was the first time Olivia Bryant had ever said "please."
And I knew I'd make her say it again.
Chapter 13
Olivia
When my legs gave out, there was no place to land but on the toilet, so I sat my still-clothed ass right down and prayed there wasn't anything wet in the way.
I was shaking.
Why was I shaking?
Deep, gulping breaths did nothing to slow my racing heartbeat. I blinked, startled when I felt the tears starting to gather, pricking at the corners of my eyes and threatening to fall and ruin my eye makeup.
Holy hell, what was happening to me?
My pulse raced each time I touched my bruised lips. His beard had chafed my cheeks, leaving my skin feeling tender and raw...like my fucking heart.
Taking another deep breath, I closed my eyes and tried to count backward from one hundred. But closing my eyes was a mistake, because in the darkness behind my lids I could only see Brad's blue eyes staring coolly at me as I desperately tried to erect barbed wire around my emotions.
He looked at me like he didn't believe a word I was saying but was willing to indulge my whim.
Brad always indulged me. I used to like that about him. But right now it seemed downright...
Dangerous.
That kiss. That had taken things far beyond what I ever wanted from a goddamned hockey player. He was supposed to fuck me the way I liked and then fucking leave.
Guys leave. That's what they do. That's what my father did when I was seven years old and then that's what every boyfriend my mother ever found after that did as well. I was used to it. I expected it, and, goddamn it, I needed it.
Shaking, I stood up and yanked down my skirt. May as well fucking do what I came back here to do in the first place.
I peed, wiped, and then out of habit, checked the paper.
That's when I saw the tiny smear of color and....
"Holy shit," I breathed. "That's why!" That's why I'm such a raw, ragged wreck! That's why I'm practically crying over Bradley Scott! "My period!"
I nearly cackled in relief. I sounded like a crazy person, but that's because it was for good reason. "Two days early." Which was weird, because I was on the pill and took it religiously every morning. I must have missed a pill or screwed up my schedule or something. No matter. It was here and it explained my momentary psychosis. "Thank god."
I finished up and went to the sink and splashed some water on my face. My eyeliner was smeared and my hair was a mess where his fingers had tangled in it. I still looked like a train wreck, but I no longer felt like one. Just knowing there was a legitimate physiological reason for why I had lost control like that was enough for me to completely regain it.
I smiled over my shoulder at myself, flicked my hair behind my shoulders and went out to find a damn tampon.
*****
"Olivia?"
It was the Monday morning after the Brad-bathroom incident. And I still felt like absolute ass. I was wearing the most loosely fitting pair of slacks I owned and I still felt like my bloat was going to burst the button at any moment. I was in no shape to be around people. Least of all Kyle.
I took a deep, steadying breath, then swiveled my desk chair to face him. I tried to smile, but I was sure it looked more like I was baring my teeth. "Yes, Kyle?" I gritted.
"Whoa, no need to jump down my throat."
I flexed my hands. "I can assure you, I did nothing of the sort. You'd notice if I jumped down your throat," I spat. "Because first I'd rip your head off to make room."
"Jesus, what are you, PMSing?"
"DMSing, if you must know."
"D - ?"
"During Menstrual Syndrome," I spat. "I am pissed off and in pain and in no mood for your shit, Kyle. What do you want?"
He straightened up and checked in both directions before lowering his voice. "Just checking on the offer, Bryant. Have you given it any thought?"
Candace made a muffled noise from across the aisle. Kyle turned and groaned. "Don't tell me you told Hunter."
"Hunter is going out on maternity leave in twenty-five more days and yes I am keeping count," Candace spat back. "And if you think Olivia's in a hormonal rage right now, you should try saying something to this overly pregnant lady about how you're trying to convince my best friend to leave me behind."
Kyle fled.
"Well. We're a pair, aren't we?" I asked Candace.
Candace scowled. "I thought he didn't want to talk about it at work?" she hissed under her breath. "What is he doing checking up with you out in the open like this?"
I threw up my hands. "I have no idea."
"Have you decided what you're going to do?"
"I haven't really thought about it much." That was a bald-faced lie. All I did was think about it.
And Candace knew it, too. "Bullshit."
I looked around. "Can we not talk about it now?"
She shrugged, looked over her shoulders. "Bathroom. Now."
"Why, so we can be overheard there instead?"
"We're the only two women in this section," she correctly pointed out.
I sighed deeply and followed behind her as she definitely-did-not-waddle to the ladies room. "Bathrooms haven't been my forte lately," I muttered to myself.
Candace pushed open the door and then swept her arm out as if graciously welcoming me into her abode. "Make yourself comfortable," she urged. "Because we're not leaving until you give me a straight answer."
"Oh Christ, really?" I whined.
"Yes, really. Make a decision before
I have this baby." She looked down and raised her voice in the direction of her belly. "Which hopefully will be any minute! You hear that kid? I'm coming in with an eviction notice. Free rent is running out."
"You've got another six weeks until your due date," I corrected meekly.
Candace's nostrils flared. "Don't. Don't even."
"You're cranky today," I observed.
"Yes I am," Candace said, scratching her belly. "Did you know that stretch marks actually hurt?"
"Dear god."
"Oh yes. Think about it. Your skin is literally tearing."
"Stop."
"And there is a thing called lightning crotch. I'm not going to elaborate on it other than to say it sucks."
"I'm never having a baby."
"I'm ready to give Ian a miner's headlamp and make him go in after this one." She groaned as she heaved herself up onto the counter. "So stop jerking me around and tell me if you're accepting Kyle's offer or not."
I sank my head into my hands. "Why is this so hard for me to consider?"
"Because you have never actually dealt with anything high stakes like this yet?" Candace blurted.
I looked at her, aghast. She shook her head, spreading her hands out wide. "What? It's true, Olivia. I love you, you know this. But you have spent your whole life deflecting away anything really important."
"What on earth are you talking about?" I wasn't sure I liked cranky, super-pregnant Candace.
"Think about it. You're so hung up on not having any regrets that you never try anything in the first place."
I opened my mouth and then closed it. Candace blinked once, and then twice. "I'm sorry. That came out a lot more harshly than I meant."
"Is that seriously what you think of me?"
"Well?" She shifted uncomfortably. "You do things to throw people off, keep them on edge. Your jokes, all the innuendo. You're unpredictable that way, so that helps you keep people who don't know you guessing." She cleared her throat and looked down at her swinging feet. "But I do know you, honey. And what you think makes you a wildcard actually makes you predictable as hell."
"Candy...."
She held up her hand. Her big eyes looked shinier than usual. I leaned back against the second row of sinks and wondered if I could climb underneath them. But there was nowhere to run to. "You want to be a big fish in a small pond," Candace choked out. "You're comfortable here at Cupid’s Arrow because you're on top. You've got Kyle scared shitless of you and the rest of the guys all think you're going to go all female praying mantis if they so much as look in your direction."
My throat was so dry that it clicked when I swallowed. "Wow," I said, softly, barely above a whisper. "Anything else?"
She clenched and then released her hands. "I think you get my point, right?" she asked gently.
"Well, you certainly stated it clearly," I said.
"Look, Liv..."
"No." I held up my hand, "Don't start backpedaling and being all nice. That's how you're predictable, you know." I leveled my gaze at her and she ducked away, looking pained and for some strange reason, it made my heart hurt to see how much my friend was suffering over what she had just said out loud. It made no goddamned sense that I should be worrying about how she was feeling right after she verbally eviscerated me, but Candace had that ability. "Okay then," I said evenly. "Okay. So. In the words of the shitty therapist I had when I was seven, let's unpack that."
Candace looked at me and swallowed. "I'm not going to say anything else after this, I promise."
"Why hold back now?"
"I'm done, I swear. I'm trying to help, it's just...."
"Fucking spit it out, Candy."
"No regrets isn't your mantra," she blurted. "It's your crutch."
Chapter 14
Brad
This time, Coach Randall's face was a lovely shade of brick red when he blew his whistle. "Listen up!" he shouted.
"I thought you were supposed to fucking mellow with age," one of the new recruits panted heavily. "He's just getting meaner."
I turned and smiled in the kid's direction. His first name was Jayden or Aiden or Brayden or something, but we all settled on calling him Blondie; firstly because of the straw-colored mop on his head and secondly because his last name looked like someone had spilled a Scrabble game across his jersey and none of us had the balls, or the interest, to figure out how to pronounce it. "You get used to it," I encouraged him. "You need to start thinking of it less as getting screamed at and more like getting patted with his voice."
"Try slapped," Blondie mumbled.
"Shut up back there!" Coach Randall thundered.
Blondie folded his arms over his chest. "Or punched," he clarified.
"Got some news for you," Coach Randall shook out a ratty, folded piece of paper from his pocket. "I just got the word from the office. The game in Denver is being postponed."
A murmur went up. Postponed? We were supposed to be flying out tonight. "More like rescheduled," Coach added. "Storm in the Rockies is supposed to be dumping like two feet overnight. Flights are being canceled left and right."
"So, we have tonight off?" Blondie piped up excitedly. "Yes! It's Friday!"
"I'm getting so fucking wasted," one of the new recruits crowed.
I winced. Big fucking mistake, dude.
Coach Randall turned violet. "Technically, yes, you have the night off." He looked like the idea of us relaxing was causing him extreme duress. "But rest assured that I'm going to kick your asses from here to Sunday right now. From now until five, you belong to me."
A groan went up from the team. "Idiot," Oswald muttered at the recruit.
Coach Randall was true to his word. He took us back to the basics, drilling stick-work like we were a bunch of kids starting peewees. I could do this shit in my sleep if I was left alone, but Coach had us switching off partners, cycling through the new guys with the veterans.
I could quickly see the method to his madness. We had been playing as individuals, not as a team, a defect that had been plainly obvious our last two games. Coach's whistle blasts marked the intervals, and we drilled again, and again, and again, until my muscles were jelly and there wasn't room in my mind for anything else but the moment.
That was the best part of playing. When everything else fell away and the sudden, crystal clarity was revealed. I started moving without thinking, anticipating blocks and shots before they even happened. When I was a kid, I used to think hockey gave me superpowers. I would go home to my mother crowing about having ESP, about reading my opponents' minds. About being a superhero.
Then she'd smack me for my mouth and drag me off to confession.
Pride was one of the seven deadly sins.
I winged a shot, missing the puck and sending a spray of ice into the air. "Watch it," Ian called, zipping behind me at the speed of light. He took up the puck, dribbling to the net where Oswald was ready. With a short snap, he feinted left, and then to the right.
Then he faltered. I saw his face contort with pain and rushed in to take the shot.
Oswald moved fast, but I was faster. "Nice recovery, Scott!" Coach called across the ice.
I allowed myself a small grin of triumph. Coach didn't usually praise me. I didn't get my ass kicked much either. Usually, I just floated along in the mid-ranks, not bringing too much attention to myself. Hockey was my job and I did it well, but I was no star.
Coach blew the whistle. "Take a knee," he called.
"How is your knee?" I called to Ian. He was wincing and favoring his right leg.
"Gonna go see the medic," he breathed. He sounded like he was barely coping. "Something snapped in there and it felt important."
I winced in sympathy as I watched my best friend hobble off the ice. His knee was never going to be the same, not after his fall in the locker room. Our ex-teammate was now sitting in prison, serving seven to ten years for attacking Candace out of some weird, jealous obsession with Ian. Thank god Ian had shown up when he did and chased Jake w
hen he'd run. But Ian had slipped as he tackled Jake in the showers, landing hard on his kneecap. The bone hadn't so much shattered as it had exploded.
Jake had wanted to get Ian off the team. And in a roundabout way, he may have achieved his goal after all. I wondered how long Ian was going to be able to keep playing.
Then I pushed that thought from my mind and took a knee with the rest of my team.
Coach Randall glared at us, and we all immediately fell silent. He made a couple of announcements about scheduling and then yelled at Oswald about his goaltending for a while. The rest of us shifted uncomfortably. The cold was starting to seep into my muscles. I needed a hot shower or I was going to be stiff tomorrow.
Finally, Coach Randall cleared his throat, always a sign he was wrapping up. "At the start of the season," he rumbled, "I gave you all an assignment."
"Shit, really?" Blondie whispered. His eyes were like saucers. "I don't remember getting an assignment. Was it a test?" I had to laugh at his panic. The kid probably graduated from high school only a few months ago. He still probably had nightmares about pop quizzes.
"Carter is resigning as captain," Coach Randall went on. "And you lazy fuckers were supposed to be coming to me with nominations for the position. And as of," he looked at his watch, then leafed through his clipboard, "eight o'clock this morning, I have received exactly," he flipped the pages back and then forth again, mumbling numbers under his breath....
"Zero names!" he finally thundered, throwing the clipboard to the ground. "Nothing! You do all understand that the captain is the one who represents you, right? The only player who can discuss a ref's call?" He stared at each of us in turn and I swear some of the new guys looked away like they were about to cry.
"Yeah, Coach, we know," Ian's deep voice sounded from the back of the pack.