by Piper Rayne
The same thing that happened during qualifiers happens to me at finals, except this time I see a body in front of me. I'm two turns from the end. Using all the physics and skills and experience I have, I get right on the edge of his board, coming up alongside him. We fly over the last hill, and his board travels over the line first, making me a silver medalist.
Damn Canadians. I don't live in an igloo so how do they expect me to compete?
I unclip my board, fist bumping and hugging the other racers and then I walk out the inflatable, Nik nodding at me. “I'll be with you in a second.”
“If I stick around.” I laugh.
Grady and Beckett are both watching me, wondering how I'll react. There were times I'd throw my board and swear at second place, but something is different this time around. Hell, maybe I'm maturing.
Jesus, that's a solemn thought.
Demi runs toward me, and I let my board fall to the side, so I can catch her when she jumps into my arms. “Congratulations!” She sprinkles kisses all over my face.
“What’s this?” Grady asks with amusement.
“This is their agreement. The one where they sleep together and that's it,” Beckett deadpans.
I raise my hand in the air, giving him the finger.
“Looks like the type of relationship where you kiss your boyfriend all over his face,” Skylar adds, and I aim my finger in her direction.
Man, that felt good.
Demi falls from my arms but stays at my side. “Any other smart-ass comments?”
They all shake their heads, but I know what they're thinking. Hell, I'm thinking it, too, now.
Once that torch gets snuffed out, so does Demi and me.
Chapter Seventeen
We're at the restaurant and Soonil walks by, distributing another round of beers on the table. Well, six of them since Brandon has joined us. Demi's not drinking since she's the last to compete.
We all knock bottles and glasses. “Congratulations,” they all say in unison.
“Thanks.”
“Awe, is that a blush.” Mia reaches forward, grabbing my cheek like I’m a child.
I smack it away as my phone starts ringing. I move in closer to Demi to check the screen. “I'll be right back.”
She nods.
Heading outside I answer the phone. “Hey, Mom.”
“Congratulations, baby.”
My back hits the building and it slides down until I'm sitting on my heels.
“You watched.”
A high-pitched laugh rings over the line. “Of course, silly, why would I not watch? Your brothers say congratulations, too.”
“Are they there?”
“No, you know they have a lot going on, but they said they'd hit the highlights.”
“Tell them thanks.”
Thanks for nothing. They can't tell my nieces and nephews you're going to miss whatever to watch your uncle score a Winter Classics medal. What the fuck is that?
“When will you be home?” my mom asks.
Ah, the moment of truth. “I'm not sure yet. Within the next couple months or so. Do you need something?”
“No, we're good.” She pauses which means there is something she needs. “So, since you got silver, does that mean less money from sponsors, or—”
Of course. Such bullshit. It all comes down to the money. How could I let myself get excited thinking that she was genuinely happy for me?
“No, I get the same.”
“What happens if you decide not to compete in the next one?”
I frown. “Why are you so worried about my career?” I stand up, readying to chuck my phone in the garbage can. Then my mind shifts to Demi and me teaching her to throw baskets when she tosses something away and that brings a small smile to my lips.
“I just wanna make sure you're okay, that you have a future. You know how many athletes get hurt.”
“Hey Mom, I gotta go. I'll call you later, okay?” I have my hand ready to pull the phone away from my ear, click the fucking red button and forget this call even happened.
“Wait... Dax.”
I close my eyes, take in my last calming breath because it will be my last for a while.
“Yeah?”
“I hate to ask you this today of all days, but can you loan your mom some money? I'm behind on rent and your brothers say they’re tapped out. You know I'm good for it.”
I'll just add it to the tally that will get paid back never. “It’ll be in your bank account tomorrow or the day after.”
“Oh, baby, you're too good to your mama. I promise it will be the last time.”
I roll my eyes. Sure it will.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“No, sweetie, talk to you later.” She hangs up.
No ‘I love you.’ No ‘congratulations again.’ No ‘I’m proud of you.’ All she really gives a shit about is whether or not claiming silver is going to diminish my ability to help support her.
Tucking my cell phone into my pocket, I push my family issues aside. They'll be there until the day I go tits up. I should put a stop to it, but I'd probably give my mom my last dollar.
I head back into the restaurant thinking that my saving grace is the fact that I get to go taste Demi's lip balm. I'm smiling like a dude who's whipped as I weave through the crowd back to the table. My footsteps stop, spotting a dark-haired guy sitting in my vacant seat, chatting up my girlfriend.
Upon further inspection, I notice it's that French fuck, Julien or whatever his name is. Why the hell is he with her? How can she even entertain his company?
Breaking the distance, I stand at the edge of the table. “You're in my seat.” I glare down at him.
He looks up, Demi's gaze follows. There's no guilty expression on her face. That’s one good sign, I suppose. I’m not used to being on this end of things.
“Oh, hey, I heard congratulations are in order,” Jackass says.
I stare blankly at him, waiting for him to get out of my seat.
“Julien was just leaving,” Demi says, kicking the leg of the chair as a hint to Frenchie to get the fuck up.
“So, hop to it. Out of my seat.” I grab the back of the seat, pulling it out a little.
“Dax,” Demi says with concern in her voice.
“I asked politely the first time.”
The rest of our friends are staring up at me. I'm positive the guys see the steam coming out of my ears. I want to body slam this guy. How does he think he can hit on Demi after everything he did?
Julien stands up, eye to eye with me, but muscle to muscle, I win.
Demi watches. “Thanks, Julien, I'll think about it.”
“You'll think about what?” I look around Julien to Demi.
“Nothing,” she says.
“It sounds like something.”
“Hey, let's go outside.” Beckett stands, placing his hand on my chest.
I grab his hand and drop it to his side. He looks over to Grady and Brandon for reinforcements. He doesn't want this to get out of hand, but I do. I'm jonesing for a fight after talking to my mom and Julien has a fucking stamp on his forehead that says, ‘hit me.’
“You trying to get back in her pants?” I ask.
“Dax,” Demi sighs.
Grady’s chair screeches on the floor and the people around us are starting to notice the commotion and mill around.
“Because let's get something straight.” I walk so I'm chest to chest with him. “That position is filled...by my dick.”
“Dax!” Demi slams her hand on the table.
“Holy shit,” Skylar says, staring at Mia with huge eyes.
Mia smiles like she's got some kind of hidden secret she's been locking up for years and it's all finally coming out.
“Oh, really because I don't think she'd be thinking about my offer if you fulfilled all her needs,” the idiot says.
“Get the fuck out.” Grady places his hand in front of Julien.
He's too late because my fist is cocked b
ack, ready to hit this motherfucker square in the jaw.
“No.” Beckett grabs my arm.
Julien laughs, and I fight against my friend’s restraint.
“She'll never go back to you,” I say, and he continues to laugh squeezing Demi's shoulder before he leaves our area.
“I'm going to fuck him up,” I yell at his retreating back.
Demi stands up, grabs my hand and yanks me, pulling me out of the restaurant in the other direction.
“Where are you taking me? My alpha side turn you on? Wanna quickie behind the building?”
She doesn't laugh. Actually, no one laughs except a guy we passed on the way out the door. He found my joke hilarious. As he should.
She pushes the door open and tosses me out. Well, I allow her to toss me because let's get something straight, if push came to shove, I've got about a hundred pounds on Demi.
“What the hell was that?” she points to the restaurant.
“Are you seriously going to go out with that vag badger again?”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “That what?”
“Vag badger.” She just stares at me, so I continue. “You know a guy who badgers a girl again and again until she lets him in her pants.”
She inhales a deep breath and squeezes the bridge of her nose for second.
“After the way he treated you, you’re actually considering seeing him again?”
Demi crosses her arms and I’ll admit, I glanced at her pushed up tits. But only for a second.
“If I did go out with him, what concern is it to you?”
“What?”
She steps closer to me. “This is just sex, correct?” She waves a finger between us. “I can see other people, remember? Those were your words.”
I wince at the memory but straighten my back. “You want to see him?” I grind out.
“That's not the point, Dax.”
“It sounds like you want him. My cock not cutting it anymore?” A group of girls walking by giggle and run into the restaurant.
“Will you please quiet down.” She steps closer to me again. “You made these rules.”
“If I made them, I can change them.”
She laughs. “You want to change the rules now? No doubt to benefit yourself.”
I hook my finger into the waistband of her jeans and pull her toward me. She doesn't fight it and I didn't expect her to. Her face isn't holding that ‘I hate you Dax’ look I've seen enough times to recognize. “Can you not date anyone else until after the closing ceremonies?”
She rolls her eyes, her hands landing on my shoulders. “What are you going to give me if I agree?”
I nuzzle my head into her neck, licking up her throat. “Orgasms aren’t enough?”
She shakes her head. “How about one dinner date?”
“Dinner?” I murmur into her soft skin.
“Dinner.”
We've done dinner a zillion times together, so I'm surprised she didn't ask for more.
I pull back and shrug. “Sure.”
She steps closer into my body.
“Tomorrow night, dinner.”
“Can we go back to my room now?” I mumble in her ear. “I feel like make-up sex with you is going to be phenomenal.”
She smacks my shoulder. “We barely fought. Maybe you should have make-up sex with Julien.”
I lick my way up her throat to her mouth, hovering and staring at her bright green eyes. “You are so fucking hot when you’re mad at me. I forgot what it was like when you hated me. Take me back to my room and punish me for being bad.”
She laughs but doesn't decline. Instead, she links her hand with mine and we head in to grab our coats.
Ignoring the snide remarks, I go celebrate my silver medal with a few gold medal performances.
Chapter Eighteen
With the silver medal under my belt, I head to the only place I want to be this morning—Demi's practice. The entire time I’ve known her, I've never seen her ski in person. I mean I have, but never paid much attention.
Hearing her mom's voice on my approach makes me happy I've stayed away until now. I have a feeling I’m going to have to bite my tongue and I've never been good at that.
“Demi, what are you doing? You have to take that last turn sharper.” Her mom is shaking her head.
Demi hasn’t seen me yet and inhales a big breath, unclips her skis and steps out of them.
“Carla, she's beating her time.” One of the other coaches intervenes, no doubt this isn't the first occasion.
“She could do better. Her skis are cutting in and slowing her down.”
Maybe I should be thankful my family never joins me at the Classics.
“She's tired. You can see it, same as I can. She needs a day of rest,” the other coach argues.
I look at Demi to see her reaction to all this. I'm almost positive she's not listening. Her hand is on her phone, her thumbs moving at hyper speed.
My phone dings in my pocket and all three heads swivel in my direction.
Demi smiles, taking off her helmet and tucking it under her arm as she walks over to me. “Hey,” she says, without hesitation.
I tuck my hands into my jacket pockets and dip my head like I can hide out and only see her. “I thought I'd catch you at practice.”
“It's not much fun.” The snow crunches under her boots while she leaves her skis stranded by her coach.
My gaze flicks to her mom who’s glaring at me.
“How much longer will you be? Maybe I can take you to lunch?”
A devilish smile crosses her lips and she glances over her shoulder. “About a half hour. I'd love to.”
I nod.
“Demi?” Her mom's boots tread through the snow toward us.
“Hey, Mom, this is Dax. Dax Campbell. He's in snowboard cross. Won silver yesterday.”
I look at her mom closely. She has a matching set of eyes with her daughter and if I wanted to know what Demi will look like in twenty years, I just have to study her mom's face—she has the same strawberry blonde hair, a few less freckles than Demi, but their eyes and their nose are both the same.
I hold my hand out and her mom shakes it, although daintily as if she's afraid I have something she'll catch. “Carla Harrison.” Then she turns back to Demi. “We have to get going. You have two more practice runs.”
Demi nods. “Dax is going to watch and then we're going to lunch.”
Carla forces a smile. “How nice.”
Demi glances back at me. “The sooner I’m done, the sooner we're out of here.” She winks slyly so her mom doesn't notice.
They both walk away, and I don’t think I've ever spoken less my entire life, but Carla Harrison is about as scary as Kathy Bates’ character in Misery.
Demi's mom has a vice grip on her daughter's arm, pulling her away like she's a toddler who just ran off. I step forward, but Demi shoots me a smile over her shoulder before hopping on the snowmobile to take her back up the hill.
Figuring I have some time, I pull out my phone to read the text Demi sent me.
Demi: Meet me in my room in an hour?
A smile forms on my lips. She was thinking of me, just as I was thinking of her.
“So, Dax, are you the one tiring my daughter out?” Carla stands next to me at the bottom of the hill. I didn’t even hear the woman approach. She’s like a damn ninja. There are no accusations in her tone, so I'm hopeful that must mean something good.
I chuckle. “No, Ma'am.”
She side eyes me.
I'm full of shit and she knows it.
“Now that your event is over, is your plan to monopolize the rest of my daughter's time?”
“No, Ma'am.”
“Stop calling me Ma'am, I am not that old.”
“Okay, then. No, Carla.”
We’re both still facing the hill. If anyone saw us from a distance they'd never think we were having a conversation.
“As you can see, Dax, I do not take this sport
lightly. I’m a three-time medalist and if I have any say my daughter will be, too. Her entire life is skiing. I don't intend for that to change now.”
“Believe me, Carla, I don't intend to alter Demi's dreams in any way.”
She huffs. “Sure, you don't. But one thing will lead to the next and soon she'll be telling me that she's engaged and pregnant.”
I chuckle to myself and she shoots me a look. One that if she had anything sharp on her, would cause me to fear for my life. I hold up my hands. “Your daughter and I are just friends.”
“Friends? I may not be that old, Dax, but I'm old enough to know there's no such thing as a man and a woman just being friends.”
“You don’t have to believe me, but it's the truth.”
I can't very well say, ‘I'm screwing your daughter until the Classics are over and then you can have your workhorse back’, now can I?
“I assume you're the one joining us for dinner tonight?” Carla asks.
My heart thumps in the chest. Dinner?
“The annual dinner we have before her race every Classics. It's a tradition and she asked that her father add one more to the reservation. I assume that's you?”
I swallow to coat my now dry throat. The dinner is with her parents? She might have mentioned that.
“Yes, I know about it and please thank Mr. Harrison for making room for me.”
She rolls her eyes. “Mr. Harrison will be mighty surprised with you. However, he'll probably like you. I, on the other hand, see the distraction you and your friendship is on Demi. She might not realize it, but a man is the last thing she needs right now.”
Demi carves out her stop at the bottom of the hill, pulling up her goggles immediately. I missed her skiing and I have Carla to blame for it.
“What'd you think?” she says, using her poles to pop out of her skis. She genuinely wants my opinion on her run.
“You look great.” I'm not lying, the skin-tight lycra shows off all her curves, and the places I love to kiss.
“Thanks. Okay, one more.”
“Demi,” her mom says, jogging over to the snowmobile.
I can't hear the specific words, but I know she’s judging her on the run which I don't really understand. She can only see the bottom half of it and she spent more time talking to me than watching her daughter. Not to mention, I want to tell Carla to bug off, but there’s no way would I try to drive a wedge between Demi and her family. I know all too well what it's like to live without one.