All the Way

by Ryan, Kendall

  Becca gives me an uneasy look.

  “Thought you were going to kick my ass.” I wink.

  She smiles. “Oh, I am.”

  The instructor begins with a brief warmup, so we rise to our feet and follow his lead with some basic moves to get us limber and warm.

  “Okay, everyone, partner up,” the instructor says, and I motion for Becca to stand before me.

  The instructor demonstrates with a volunteer the first move we’ll be tackling, which is how to get out of a hold if an attacker grabs you.

  Suddenly, I’m worried that this may trigger something for her, and I feel like a complete, thoughtless asshole. “Think you can handle this?”

  Straightening her posture, she gives me a determined nod. “Definitely.”

  We cover a variety of positions and moves, learning where to strike on the most vulnerable places on the human body—the throat, eyes, and groin. Becca hangs on every word of the instructor, her mind working, and her body breaking out in a fine sheen of sweat.

  With her shoulders back and chin up, Becca tackles each obstacle and scenario with determination. It’s fascinating to watch. I can’t help but wonder if she had taken a class like this a long time ago, maybe things might have turned out differently for her.

  But I don’t get the chance to dwell on it long because Becca strikes my throat and I stumble back a step, breathless and surprised, but utterly proud.

  While we practice takedowns and holds, I try desperately not to get an erection in front of the class. Because, let’s face it, these athletic shorts would do jack shit to hide it, and Becca in those damn leggings, working her ass off, is inspiring some very dirty fantasies.

  The last thing we do is practice getting out of a hold if an attacker has you in a prone position.

  At the instructor’s command, Becca lowers herself to the mat, and I crouch over her, ready to pin her to the mat. At first, I feel a little uneasy about this, but her expression is one hundred percent focused determination, and so I decide to just roll with it. When I pin her down, she thrusts her body up and over, freeing herself easily despite my hundred-pound advantage.

  Breathing hard through her nose, she sits back on her heels, a faraway expression in her eyes and her mouth pressed in a tight line. Something inside me clenches.

  I want to ask if she’s okay, or what she’s thinking about, but the instructor stands at the front of the room and begins recapping the lesson. As he thanks everyone for coming, I settle for sitting quietly beside her, rubbing her back in small circles while her breathing slows.

  After we leave the gym, Becca’s quiet, and I’m unsure what she’s thinking. Teddy’s comments about women needing to talk things out pops into my head, and I suggest we stop at the coffee shop next door. By the time we place our order at the counter, she still hasn’t said a word.

  I’m not sure if I made the wrong call taking her to the self-defense lesson, or if she’s upset about me seeing her be vulnerable in there, or if it’s something else entirely. I kind of wish I could consult Teddy again right now, since I’m pretty clueless when it comes to women and reading their emotions. Unfortunately for me, phoning a friend during a date is frowned upon.

  We settle at a table by the windows with two iced coffees.

  “Are you all right?” I ask after a moment of tense silence.

  Hell, for all I know, our little agreed-upon arrangement is done. We’ve had sex, she’s conquered that, and maybe she’s just trying to find a way to let me down easy since this has clearly turned into more than either of us bargained for.

  Becca takes a sip of her drink, her eyes focused out the window, on the parking lot—pretty much anywhere but directly at me.

  Regret churns inside me, and I’m starting to feel really unsure about bringing her to the gym.

  “I’m fine, Owen.”

  She certainly doesn’t seem fine, but I merely frown, still watching her.

  “Becca . . .” I reach for her hand, and she lets me take it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought you there. It was thoughtless of me. I was hoping it might empower you or something. I should have asked first.”

  When she finally meets my gaze, I expect her eyes to hold all the answers I need, but instead I’m only left with more questions. Her normally clear blue eyes are stormy, and it’s obvious she’s got something on her mind.

  “Honestly, I’m glad I went. Thank you.” Then she pushes her chair back and rises to her feet. “But I forgot that I had something else I needed to do today.”

  “Oh.” Stunned, I blink twice.

  “I’ll see you around, okay?” Without waiting for my answer, Becca turns toward the exit.

  As I watch her retreat, I’m left with just one question ringing through my head.

  We’ve been through so much, so why is she scared of being vulnerable around me now?

  18

  * * *

  Forgive and Forget

  Becca

  Curled up on my couch under a soft throw blanket, I let out a restless sigh.

  I know I freaked out a little after the self-defense lesson Owen took me to, but it was only because things were starting to feel too real between us. Too couple-y. I needed a little distance to clear my head and remember that he’s not my boyfriend. He’s a friend with benefits—one of my best friends—and the benefits are amazing. But that’s all. It wasn’t going to help anything if I started pining over him, and that’s why I fled. It’s all good though, because I’ve gotten my perspective back.

  My cell phone rings and when I see the name Mom flashing on the screen, I pick up, smiling.

  “Hey,” I say.

  “Hi sweetie. I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you.”

  I shrug. “Yeah. I’m just hanging at home tonight.”

  “How’s my favorite child?” she asks.

  I roll my eyes. I’m her only child, but I don’t argue the point.

  “Things are good. I started seeing someone new,” I say on an inhale, trying to get the words out as quickly as possible—mostly because they feel so strange coming out of my mouth. It’s been several years since anything like this has even been on the table.

  “Oh, that’s great, honey.” Mom’s voice is filled with surprise and she makes a happy sound, calling out the news to my dad.

  I nod. It is great. Even if I’m certain it won’t lead to something long-term, this trial run with Owen has been exactly what I needed. My confidence has soared just knowing that physical intimacy hasn’t been ruined for me by my past like I had thought for so long.

  And as great as things have been, lately I’ve begun to wonder about the expiration date on our arrangement. Neither of us has brought it up, but I fear it’s getting near. Which is all the more reason not to focus on it just yet. Enjoy it for what it is, Bec.

  Mom and I talk for another ten minutes. I listen, like a dutiful daughter, while she complains about the church fundraiser she’s trying to organize, and then I fill her in on all the team happenings. She and my dad love hockey and they’re always proud to brag about their daughter who works for the franchise.

  A few seconds after we exchange I love yous and hang up, my phone chimes from its spot beside me, and I turn it over to see who’s texted me. It’s Elise.

  I can always tell if she’s been drinking based on the number of exclamation points in her texts. If she uses one, she’s probably sober. Two, and she’s had at least one glass of wine. So when I read her message, with its record-breaking four exclamation points, I know that wherever she is, she’s taking full advantage of whoever is buying rounds of shots.

  We’re at the club! Come dance with me!!!!

  I look down at my grubby old sweatpants and the popcorn I’m cradling in my lap.

  A club? It’s a Friday night, yes, but I figured my plans for the evening would consist of me, this bag of Jiffy Pop, and the last few chapters of the romance novel I’ve been reading. Since I went cold turkey on alcohol, my evenings have been much quieter. B
orderline boring, some might argue. Maybe it’s time I start easing back into drinking, little by little.

  My phone buzzes again with another text from Elise.

  Pleeeeease? You haven’t been out with us in foreverrrrrr!!!!

  And . . . we’ve officially entered extra-letter territory. Yup, that means Elise is past tipsy and well on her way to intoxicated. Which is why I don’t feel too bad about asking her to be more specific about who the “us” is I’d be going out with tonight. She probably has enough of a buzz to be oblivious to my reason for asking—her brother.

  It’s been a few days since I’ve seen Owen, and with his packed midseason schedule, his texts have gotten a little less frequent.

  I’m sure the distance between us is nothing but a side effect of the busy season, but that doesn’t solve the issue of the emptiness in both my chest and my bed. It doesn’t help that the text I sent him a few hours ago asking about his plans for the evening went unanswered. But I guess I can’t blame him if he was out with his teammates, trying to shake off some of the pressure they’re under.

  Elise replies right away, giving me a better idea of who all is at the club.

  Everyone! Me, Sara, Aubree, and Bailey!!!!! And all the guys!!

  My mouth tightens into a straight line. All the guys? I was hoping for a bit more specific info than that. My fingers fly across my keyboard as I spell out exactly what it is I want to know. I really have no shame.

  Is Owen there?

  My stomach clenches from the nerves as I hit SEND, but it’s nothing compared to the knot in my stomach when I read her response.

  Yeah but idk. I think he’s about to leave with some jersey chaser who’s all over him. It’s gross.

  My lungs seize up as I stare down blankly at my phone.

  While I’m sitting at home worried about Owen’s busy schedule stressing him out, he’s off getting flirty with a random girl at a club?

  My stomach in knots, I toss my phone across the couch, letting it bounce off a throw pillow.

  No wonder he isn’t responding to my texts. His hands are too busy feeling up some puck bunny. And the worst part? I don’t even have the right to be angry. Owen Parrish isn’t my boyfriend. I have no claim on him. He can do whatever, and whomever, the hell he wants. It’s not his fault that I’m stupid enough to think what we have is different from what he could have with any girl in Seattle he wanted.

  I pull a deep, slow breath into my lungs, holding it there. It’s all I can do to keep from screaming. Somewhere on the other side of town, Owen is getting ready to bring some random girl back to his place. And I’m not going to let that happen without him knowing what an asshole move that is.

  Mind made up, I grab my phone and fire off a response to Elise.

  Be there in a bit. I just need to change.

  The lacy plum-colored dress in the back of my closet hasn’t been taken out in what feels like a lifetime. I can say the same for my sky-high black platform heels. But if ever there was an occasion for this outfit, this is it. I pull on a cropped leather jacket to complete the look and mentally thank my past self for not taking off my makeup after work today.

  A quick swipe of red lipstick, and I’m looking like sex in stilettos. I dare Owen, and any other guy in the club, for that matter, to keep his jaw off the floor.

  From the back seat of my Uber, I can feel the bass thumping as we pull up to the club before I even open the car door. This is so not my scene, but I’m a girl on a mission.

  There’s a line outside, but I strut to the front, push my boobs together, and tell the doorman I’m here with the Hawks players, flashing him my employee ID. It works like a charm, and I’m behind the velvet ropes in no time.

  If I thought the thumping bass outside the club was bad, two steps inside has me wishing I’d brought earplugs. Who decided we should come to this place, anyway? Our usual hangouts are much more bar/restaurant and a lot less dance club.

  Luckily, my friends are easy to spot. One of the many benefits of running with a crew of athletes is that all the guys are well over six feet tall and easy to pick out of a crowd. As I approach the high-top table surrounded by bar stools, I see Teddy and Justin are pouring out shots of tequila for everyone. I guess it’s a bottle service kind of night.

  “Pour one for me!” I have to shout over the electronic beats blasting out of the speakers just to get their attention.

  Sara gives me a wolf whistle, and Elise’s eyes widen as she takes in my outfit.

  “Damn, girl! Nobody told me we invited a model tonight!” Even in person, Elise is speaking in exclamation points.

  I smile politely at the compliment while scanning the group until my gaze lands on what I’m looking for.

  Owen.

  He’s standing in the corner with a blonde whose bandeau top can barely contain her ample chest. She’s completely draped over him, laughing and tossing her hair back like she’s in a shampoo commercial. She looks exactly like the dozens of girls I’ve seen Owen bring home before. Which is to say, nothing at all like me. Flirtatious and confident and carefree.

  I’m not going to lie, it hurts more than I thought possible to see him with a woman. It’s all I can do to keep the tears out of my eyes. I draw a slow, shaky breath and fight to keep my expression neutral.

  Owen and I lock eyes for a moment, and my heart sinks to the floor. I look for something, anything, in his eyes that might give me some clue of what’s going on here, but I come up with nothing. He doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest by the fact that I’m here.

  Tears try to push through but I blink them away, brushing my brown locks over my shoulder. I will not let myself get emotional. Not here. Not in front of him.

  I reach out to grab a tequila shot with shaky fingers, and Sara eyes me nervously.

  “You sure? I thought you and tequila were mortal enemies now.”

  I shrug, holding my shot glass in the air. “I guess I’m ready to forgive and forget.”

  That is, forgive my friend tequila and forget Owen Parrish.

  “Forgive and forget. I’ll drink to that.” Teddy laughs, clinking his shot glass with mine.

  I toss the tequila back, welcoming the familiar burn in my throat. It hurts, but not nearly as much as Owen’s stare, which I can feel hot on my skin.

  “Another one?” I ask.

  Sara and Elise turn me down, opting to join the other girls on the dance floor instead, but Teddy pours two more shots for us.

  “Parrish, you want one?” he calls over his shoulder.

  Blondie giggles and drapes her hands over Owen’s chest, tugging playfully at his shirt. “Yeah, Owen, let’s do a shot together!”

  He brushes her off, annoyance building in his voice. “For the third time, stop touching me. I told you I’m not interested. In you or tequila. I’m driving tonight.”

  Blondie rolls her eyes and adjusts her top with a huff before storming off to find some other guy to hang on. In the meantime, Owen makes his way over to me.

  “Becca, can we talk?” He nods toward the door, clearly suggesting we should take this conversation outside.

  “I just got here,” I snap, hearing the bite in my own voice. “We could’ve talked earlier if you had responded to my texts, but message received loud and clear. Besides, I’m here to have fun.”

  As Teddy caps the tequila bottle, a worried look crosses his features. I take my second shot of the evening. The warm buzz of the alcohol hitting my system spreads over my skin.

  I’d better slow down a bit, maybe dance for a few songs until those two shots catch up with me. The remix bumping through the speakers transitions to a song I know, and I hear Sara squeal in delight from where she’s shaking her booty beneath the rainbow-colored flashing lights.

  “Excuse me.” I push past Owen and head straight to the dance floor.

  Bailey and Aubree shimmy in my direction while Sara spins Elise around like a top. This is exactly what I needed. Some much-needed girl time to cut loose and forget about
the shit-storm state of my love-life.

  When Justin cuts in to dance with his girlfriend, Sara grabs my hand, pulling me deeper into the crowd until we’re swallowed by the sea of people, all dancing and shimmying and grinding up on one another.

  Once the song ends and a new one I don’t recognize starts, I realize how much of a sweat I’ve worked up. I need to ditch my leather jacket stat. Excusing myself from the crowd, I find my way back to the table, where I eye both the tequila bottle and the pitcher of water, weighing my beverage options.

  Before I can make up my mind, a very sweaty Elise joins me from the dance floor.

  “Hey, Becs. Can I ask you something?”

  I push down the knot forming in my stomach. “Yeah, what’s up?”

  Elise pours herself a glass of water from the pitcher, then pours me one too. I guess that decides what I’m drinking next. After we’ve each had a swig, Elise leans in, her lips just inches from my ear so she doesn’t have to shout over the music.

  “Is there something going on with you and my brother?”

  I freeze, instantly sobered by the question. I knew Owen and I couldn’t hide this from Elise forever, but this is the worst possible time for her to be asking what’s happening between us. Because right now, I don’t actually know.

  Yes, there’s something between Owen and me. But what, exactly?

  A few days ago, I thought that our little deal had turned into something more, something real. But seeing him tonight with a girl hanging all over him, I’m not so sure. Maybe I really am just another notch in his belt.

  Apparently, my silence speaks for me, because Elise squeals and swats my arm. “Oh my God. I knew it! I’ll kill him if he hurts you. You know that, right?”

  I chomp down on my lower lip. If he hurts me? I think he already has. My heart feels so heavy, and if I’m not careful, I’m sure I could burst into tears at any moment.