by Tharp, Emma
She stands up and crosses her arms. “We can finish up another time.”
“Great.” I get up and go to kiss her. She turns her head at the last second so I end up kissing her cheek. The hell? “Everything okay, Chloe?”
“I’m tired. Think I’ll have a bath and go to sleep early.” She yawns and sprawls her arms up over her head in an exaggerated fashion.
“I’ll be in touch to schedule another time to finish the interview,” I tell her on my way to the door.
“Okay. Goodbye.”
She doesn’t come with me, but stands in the same spot—something is off. It’s subtle, but the way she’s standing isn’t right. It’s the ever so slight stoop to her normally straight posture and the artificial smile she’s giving me—while still gorgeous, her lips turn up too much at the corners. It’s unsettling. “Goodnight.”
Once I’m at the club, I head inside to find the guys have rented out a spot on the top floor. There’s bottles of champagne, vodka, tequila, and gin sitting on the table in the corner. Women in mini dresses and barely there tops are all over the guys—puck bunnies, I’m sure. The idea of one of them hanging all over me tonight is about as appealing as having someone jab the edge of their skate in my eye.
I shake hands with a few of the guys and we all give each other pats on the back. There’s really something to be said for good team morale.
Scanning the dim area, I spot Neil with a woman who barely looks old enough to drive a car, much less drink the martini she’s got in her hand.
I go to the table and get a glass, fill it with ice and straight up vodka. Wincing at the first harsh sip, I shake the glass, willing the ice to melt faster.
Looking at all these people makes me resent Chloe’s blow-off even more. The woman is enough to drive me mad. For once I would’ve liked to stay in with her tonight. We could’ve watched a movie and then had sex. Cuddling up afterward would’ve been nice. I’d have stayed over and we don’t have an early practice, so Chloe and I could’ve slept in since it’s the weekend. Waking up next to Chloe’s warm body draped over mine gives me a semi just thinking about it. Maybe she’s just not that into me.
A blonde woman with a pixie cut and a tight red dress that barely covers her underwear—assuming she’s wearing any—saunters over to me.
Holding up my hand, I say, “Sorry. Not in the mood.” I don’t miss the sour expression on her face as I walk away toward Neil.
I tap his young friend on the shoulder and whisper in her ear. “I need to talk to Neil. Mind giving me a minute?” I use my sweet, persuasive voice.
She bats her overly made-up eyelashes at me. “Sure. No problem.”
“Thanks,” I tell her as she walks her tight underage ass away.
“Dude, you showed up. I wasn’t sure.” Neil grabs my hand and gives me the half man hug he always uses.
“I wasn’t going to, but when I brought it up to Chloe, she told me to come, so, here I am.” My tone sounds as enthusiastic as it’d be if I were explaining going to get a root canal.
“What’s up with you?” Neil asks. “You seem pissed.”
Can’t get shit by Neil. He’s a sharp guy. “No, I’m good. Just not in the mood to be here tonight.”
Neil downs the last of his drink. “Why not? We won our last five games. You’ve got your game back. You never want to hang out anymore. Let’s party.” He crooks his finger, gesturing for me to follow him to the liquor table. A couple members of the team pat me on the back as I walk by them. Yes, I like this team much better than the Wolverines.
Neil refills his glass mostly with gin and tops it off with a splash of tonic. “You want one?”
Lifting my glass, I show him I’m still full. “I’m set.”
A couple of women approach us. A redhead puts her arms around Neil. He smirks at me right before they start making out.
Redhead’s friend, a tall brunette, approaches me. “Hey, handsome. You look like you could use some company?”
Every passing moment, it’s becoming more evident to me that the only woman’s company I want is Chloe’s. She’s enough for me and I’m beginning to wonder if I could ever be enough for her. Something is off with her lately and I have to find out what it is and fix it.
Before I say a word, the brunette’s hand lands on my groin.
Sixteen
Chloe
Early morning sun casts rays of light across my living room. I snuggle into my favorite nook of the couch with my coffee in hand. Scanning the scores from last night on my phone, I settle into my morning routine.
I’m starting to miss Marcus. It’s been five days since I interviewed him and told him to go out with his friends. He had an away game after that, but should be back in Toronto now. A crazy part of me—the senseless part—wants to see him. Even though deep down I know I shouldn’t.
It’s been impossible for me to stop thinking about what Sara told me at the game. If Marcus was having sex with us both at the same time, well, that bothers me. Sure, we never made promises to each other about not seeing anyone else, but I never did. He was enough for me, but maybe I wasn’t enough for him.
It scares me to think about having a conversation with Marcus about us. He could shoot me down and tell me it’s over like he did with Sara when she started asking for more from him. I’m not ready to risk it—not without fully understanding how I feel yet.
At our last interview, I kept my guard up high and tight. It was self-preservation. The waters of our agreement continue to get murkier by the day, and that night I needed to process and attempt to get a grasp on my feelings.
The conversation I had with Hudson only confuses me more. He’s always had a good read on people. And the fact that he told me he and my family thought Marcus is smitten with me…I can’t get it out of my head. The ramifications of what that means is staying with me. If my family saw it, does Marcus even realize it? He’s been in so many wrong relationships, would he even know if he found the right one?
I’ve got to stop obsessing over Marcus Reid.
Skimming through scores and highlights, I can’t help but peek at Toronto Daily’s page. They’re my biggest competition and I strive to stay ahead and have better stories than they do.
I nearly drop my phone when a picture of Marcus pops up on the screen. It’s of him and a leggy brunette. She’s got her hands all over him. The expression on his face is unreadable, it could be shock or captivation. Bile rises in the back of my throat. “Bad Boy On and Off the Ice: Marcus Reid.” The article outlines everything that Sara, the woman from the game, told me. That Marcus is a cheating, lying asshole. But the woman in this picture isn’t Sara. I wonder who she is and when the photo was taken. The article doesn’t say.
Fuck. This isn’t good for me or for him.
Sara must’ve contacted Candy Clawson, my biggest competitor—the woman that’s always there with her big mouth and even larger ego trying to get the stories. Why couldn’t Sara have contacted anyone else—or better yet, kept her mouth shut?
I’m going to have some damage control to do at my office. David will be pissed that I didn’t get this story about Marcus.
To think that I’ve been interviewing him and he’s been opening up to me, telling me all about his past and his insecurities. He’s been vulnerable. It’s more than I could’ve hoped for. And in the time we’ve spent together, little by little, my hard exterior has been chipping away. I certainly didn’t want it to happen, but it did.
I’m jarred out of my thoughts when my phone rings. The screen reads David. Damn.
I answer it before it can ring twice. “Hi, David.”
“Have you been online this morning?” His tone is clipped and impatient.
“Yes. I’ve seen the article in the Daily.”
David lets out a long sigh. “Why didn’t you get this story?”
Time to go on the defensive. “Because this article is sex. Not sports.”
“Don’t you realize that sex sells sports?” I can practic
ally hear his eyes rolling.
“Wait until you see what I’ve g—”
“Nope. I’m bumping you from this assignment. Hold tight to see where I’m putting you next.” And just like that the line goes dead.
Sure, I could’ve been a bitch and wrote a smut piece about Marcus and Sara, but I didn’t want to do that. I wanted to write something that I thought hockey fans would want to read—about who Marcus Reid really is. And it would’ve felt like a betrayal of Marcus’s trust to drag his name through the mud for something as stupid as a pissed off ex-fling of his. This is where the lines get blurry. If Sara had approached me and I wasn’t sleeping with Marcus, I would’ve written up that story and submitted it to David.
The hard truth that’s staring me in the face is that I like Marcus. More than I should’ve ever allowed myself to.
I rest my head in my hands and angry tears spill down my cheeks.
Seventeen
Marcus
“No, I swear, I didn’t hook up with her,” I tell Neil in the locker room after practice. He’s been goading me for days, insisting that the tall brunette named Denise and I left the club together the other night and that we hooked up. “She grabbed my groin and I asked her to leave me alone. She kept insisting that she and I leave together. I told her no thanks and then I left. Alone.”
“Okay, well, if that’s your story, I guess that I buy it, but I don’t know if anyone else will.” He snorts out a laugh, showing me he still thinks I’m lying to him about it. I’m not sure what he means by anyone else believing me. Maybe the guys on the team, but nobody else has said a word. The truth is that I wanted nothing to do with the brunette, or any woman for that matter, except Chloe. And she’s been acting strange lately. She told me to leave the other night when I wanted to stay and I’ve texted her a couple of times and she either texts me back one-word answers or she won’t text at all. I want to see her soon, though.
Neil drags his hand through his just showered hair and spikes it up. “The redhead that I ended up hooking up with, her name is Monique. We’re meeting up tonight for dinner and drinks. You sure you don’t want to give Denise a call? We could double-date. Think about it. Denise has an amazing ass.”
Before I get the chance to object and tell him that I won’t be taking Denise and her amazing ass out on a date, Coach Ryan storms in the locker room. “Reid. My office. Now!”
A few of the guys make ooh and ahh noises after Coach slams the door.
Shit. He never comes in the locker room. This can’t be good. I’ve been playing so much better and scoring goals. This doesn’t make sense. “What the hell?” I look at Neil, as if he’d have any idea why I’m being summoned to Coach’s office.
“It’s probably that article that was in today’s Daily.” Neil shrugs.
My mind races through the possibilities. Could Chloe have thrown me under the bus? She wouldn’t. Or would she? Chloe doesn’t work for the Daily though. “What article?”
“Some chick claims you’re a cheater.”
“There’s an article online about me today and you’re just telling me about it now?” My tone is impatient as I pull my sweatshirt on over my head and rush to finish putting my shoes on.
Neil puts his hand over his heart. “Sorry, man. I figured you knew. And I didn’t think it was a big deal at all. Athletes and celebrities are the target of made-up shit and gossip all the time. Don’t worry about it.”
“Yeah, okay.” I grab my bag and race out of the locker room.
Coach Ryan’s office door is wide open. I knock on the door frame and hang my head as I walk in like a teen with truancy issues going to the principal’s office. I wipe my sweaty palms on my joggers. “You wanted to see me?”
He looks up and scowls. “Yes, come in and shut the door behind you.”
I do as he asks and slink into the seat across from his desk.
"Did you see the article in the Daily this morning?”
For the second time today, relief washes over me that it isn't Chloe's newspaper. "No, I didn't."
Coach Ryan cracks his knuckles. "It's not flattering. We can't have this drama."
The best approach might be to downplay this. I borrow a line from Neil. "Athletes are often the topic of gossip. This story might not even be true."
Coach moves forward and supports his weight on his forearms. He stares me right in the eyes. "There are photographs. You and a brunette. The two of you look pretty close. I'm not sure what all of this means or who you pissed off to get your name in the paper, but it needs to be shut down. No more of this shit. You hear me? This team doesn't need anymore negative press.”
He's referring to the scandal that went down the year before I got here. Apparently, a guy from the team got caught with illegal drugs. It was a big deal here and he got kicked off the team and out of the league.
Coach Ryan hands me his cell phone which is pulled up to the page in the Daily with my article. The picture is of Denise and me from the bar the other night. It’s not incriminating, per se. I mean, at least whoever took the photo didn’t take it when she had her hand on my junk. Reading through this, it’s definitely Sara who opened her mouth. What a bitch. Well, now she's got nothing more on me, but Chloe is going to be livid. My stomach does a nosedive. “I don't know why this woman had to run to the papers, but we only dated a couple of months. She didn't take the breakup well and she inflated the truth."
"I don't care about your personal life. Only that you can continue to help this team win games. Can you keep your nose clean and do that?"
If Chloe will keep seeing me. "Yes. I can."
He folds his hands in front of him and says, "Good. You're free to go. No more negative press or drama. Got it?"
I stand up and push in the chair. "Yes. Got it." Tucking my tail between my legs, I head for the door.
This may be it. She might not forgive me for this.
Eighteen
Marcus
“That game sucked.” I slam my skate to the floor. Chloe won’t see me or return my texts and my game is paying the price. It’s been a week since the article came out and ever since Chloe’s been ghosting me. I couldn’t do anything on the ice tonight, it was a disaster.
Neil sets his helmet in its slot in his locker and looks at me. "What's going on with you?"
Should I tell him? I don't know what else to do. Something's got to give. "Keep this between us, but it's a woman."
"The one from the article?" He wears a confused expression on his sweaty face.
I strip off my jersey and chest protector and set them on the bench next to me. "No. It's Chloe. I know I've told you about her before. When we first met, she was just a hook-up, but now I think she's my good luck charm."
His dark eyebrows pinch together. "I don't get it."
"Every time we have sex before a game, I play well. I score." I laugh at the pun. "And when we don't have sex, I play like shit."
Neil sits down on the bench next to me and rests his elbows on his knees. "You don't really believe that, do you?"
"Yeah. I actually do. She just cut me off and look at how many turnovers I had tonight. I couldn’t score a goal if you paid me. It sucks. What do I do?"
Neil runs a towel through his hair and says, "You know what this is? It isn’t about the sex. It's about the way she makes you feel." He points his finger at his heart. "Think about it. Every time we’ve gone out lately, you haven't wanted to hook up with anyone and you always leave early. You've got it bad for this girl."
Shit. This twenty-three-year-old is right. I think I might be in love with her. I don't want anyone else and it’s never felt like this before. I rub my temples, feeling a headache coming on. "She is the only woman I've been with where I'm not constantly searching for anyone else. I thought a relationship wasn't in my DNA, but maybe it is. I just hadn’t found the right person before her. Chloe is my person. But I think she hates me. It’s what I deserve. I've been a terrible man for years, cheating on every woman I've ever been
with. Even my ex-fiancée who I thought I loved."
"It's never too late to turn over a new leaf and start again."
Another pearl of wisdom. "Do you really think that?"
"Sure. Go talk to her. For once, be honest. The worst she can do is slam the door in your face."
It's a good idea, but there's one thing I have to do first.
* * *
"Thanks for meeting me," I say to Hudson as I shake his hand and have a seat next to him at the bar.
"I was surprised to hear from you, but I usually have my lunch hour free so this works out great. Thanks for driving out here to meet me.”
There wasn't much traffic, so it only took me forty-five minutes to get to Mississauga. "I wasn't sure who else to talk to about Chloe, so I thought I'd give you a call." When Hudson and I exchanged phone numbers at Thanksgiving, I didn’t realize how important it would be for me to have it.
We order burgers and beers from the bartender. He sets two cold pints in front of us.
"So, what’s up between you and Chloe?" He's looking me in the eye and it's uncanny how similar his and Chloe's irises are. Such a deep dark shade of blue.
While I am excited to talk to him about Chloe, my heart beats so fast it bangs against the back of my ribs. This could all go really badly, or he could give me the answers I need. "Let me start off by saying that your sister is an incredible woman."
Hudson takes a long pull of his beer. "Yes, she is. The two of you seemed to have good chemistry when I saw you together at Thanksgiving."
If he only knew how fiery hot our chemistry really is. "I want to be honest with you. I’ve never really been much of a relationship guy. In fact, I've never quite figured out how to make one work. I'm not proud of it but it's the truth." Hudson nods and is following along but surprisingly doesn't have a judgmental expression on his face. "The reason I'm telling you all this is because your sister makes me want things that I've never had before." I stop talking because a thick lump is forming in the back of my throat.