by Erin Leigh
“Hmmmhmmm. Thanks.” My words are moaned. I know it’s my last seconds of not having to hide the pain. I have to put on my happy face as soon as I get into the office.
The cold wind and the brutal steps I have to take to get there are torturous, but the inside of the huge office is much worse.
Everyone is typing and cheerful and getting their coffee for the day from the machine.
They wave and smile and some of them see it—the possibility that I am sick or hungover or something is wrong. Liz walks straight to me, then alongside me to our desks. “You okay?”
“No.”
“Sick?”
“Self-inflicted and I will recover. I just need some coffee and some crack and a little speed and maybe some Red Bull and a whore to snort it all off of.”
She snorts. “Best way to cope with it. I’ll see what kind of pharmaceuticals we have.”
I hold out my hand. “I have two Advil.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Randy has whiskey in his desk. Maybe you should crack that.”
The idea of whiskey makes me swallow twice as I shudder. “No. Just need to sit and suffer and do my job and pretend I’m fine. Eventually, I will be.”
She sits at her desk as I sit at mine.
Deciding on the right task as far as covers go, I opt for the sports romance and open the stock images of beautiful men in various poses. I have spent almost the entire week looking at crappy stock photos.
They are all posed and annoyingly clean. I don't imagine a single hockey player looks this way ever.
“She’s just over here.”
“Thanks, man.”
I lift my head to the sound of Brady’s voice. He cringes when he sees me, making me scowl. “Stop looking at me like that.” I have a croak now instead of a voice.
He brings in an armload of food. “I got you my favorite, sausage and egg McMuffin. And I got you some baked goods from that bakery down the road. I wasn't sure if girls like sweets when they’re hungover, but I do sometimes. And I was going to get a vanilla latte, it seemed like the right choice, but they have pumpkin spice out now.” He shrugs and puts it all in front of me. “You’re a rich type of white girl and pumpkin is a thing for you, right?”
“Funny.” I lift it to my lips as Liz snickers, but she’s the only one. The rest of the office is giving me a look from wherever they are, like standing in the middle of the aisles is how we normally work.
He rubs my back for a moment and that makes me close my eyes and laugh. “Thank you. You’re the best roommate ever.”
His hand freezes where it was, pausing. “I should go. You’re at work.” He stands and maybe it’s the light or the way he smiles down on me like he’s some sort of god, either way I get an idea.
I stand next to him, too close but it can’t be helped. My ability to be cool has diminished a lot. “Can you come with me quick? I have a favor to ask.”
He cocks an eyebrow and looks like he might laugh. “What kind?”
“The kind where you take your shirt off and get paid.” I reach down and grab his hand, pulling him along the aisles. He’s so warm that I don't let go of the hand even as I approach Randy’s office.
He sees Brady and jumps up, hurrying to the doorway. “Brady Coldwell?” He looks like he might pee.
“Yeah.” Brady smiles and runs his hand through his hair. I realize then we’re still holding hands and drop his.
“Holy shit!” He offers his hand and the biggest smile ever. “So nice to meet you. I’m Randy. Nat’s boss.” His smile goes to a place that makes me wonder if he finds Brady as attractive as I do.
“Nice to meet you.” Brady nudges me. “You guys working her hard for her first week?”
Randy nods, maybe not even hearing the question.
I nudge Brady back. “Anyway, I have a question about something.”
Randy looks at me for a second before turning back to Brady. “Shoot, kid.”
“I was going through the stock for hockey players and it’s not awesome, and I was wondering if I could use Brady as a cover model and shoot some pics. Then we could crop them so no one would know it was him.”
Randy’s eyes widen. “Oh, that's a fabulous idea.” He gives Brady a look. “And you like this idea?”
Brady gives me a look. “What’s a cover model?”
“Like cover of a book.”
He purses his lips, making those dumb duck lips while he processes and then nods. “I’m game. What’s involved?”
“Taking your shirt off and playing with your stick.” I say it before I really think about it.
His lips curl up into the big grin. He chuckles and nods. “All right. Where do you wanna do it?” I know he’s still tormenting me with the do it, but I leave it alone.
“The ice rink?”
“I’ll get my stuff and pick you up in like ten minutes? We can use the ice over at Champions Skating Center.”
I give Randy a look. “I have a camera that can shoot the pictures. I’ll just go with him now and pick it up at the house.”
He nods. “Great plan. I love the enthusiasm. Especially, considering you’re so hungover. I really thought you might try to ride it out and you’re not. Way to not sleep at your desk.” He lifts his hand for me to high five. I slap mine against his weakly and turn back for my desk.
“I’ll meet you at the truck. I need my food.” I saunter back there with the whispers haunting me the entire way.
It’s nothing new.
Brady Coldwell is just the new Sami Ford in my life.
Chapter Sixteen
Cover model
Brady
I skate around for a minute, trying to warm up. “What should I do?”
“Just skate and play and be natural.” She walks on the ice, trying desperately not to fall as she shoots pictures of me.
“Yes, ma’am.” I skate, doing some maneuvering with the puck and some sudden stops.
She’s perked up a bit since the food went in her belly, but she’s still quieter than normal.
I think I am too. I’m overcompensating for the fact she did her striptease for me last night and demanded to be serviced. But by her behavior I am assuming she truly doesn't recall it. Thank God.
Nothing would be weirder than that and now we can still be cool.
“So where did you learn to take photos?” I ask after a few minutes of me skating and her snapping and neither of us talking.
“My dad. He’s a hobbyist photog. He loves it. Gave me this camera for my sixteenth birthday. All my friends were getting cars, but my parents couldn't afford it. So he got me this instead.”
“And here you are, using it to shoot the one and only, Brady Coldwell.” I offer up the smuggest grin and wink. “Totally worth not getting a car.”
She laughs as she shoots. “You do make a perfect hockey player for the cover.”
“I do have some practice at it.”
She lowers the camera and winces. “Time to start undressing, if that's cool.”
“Oh, it’s cool. It's going to be very cool,” I mutter and skate closer. I give her a couple of poses, with the stick, like I’ve done for my hockey cards. Then I drop the stick on the ice, drop my gloves, unbutton my jeans but don't unzip them much, and start taking my shirt off.
“Slow, pull it off slowly.” She says it breathy like she’s enjoying the show. I wish I could tell her how much I enjoyed her show. I realize then I want to tell her and see if she needs servicing.
“Nice. Now when it comes off just give me a look from under the shirt. Be a warrior.”
“I’m a warrior all right.” I laugh and give her my sexiest look.
She rolls her eyes, as usual, but keeps snapping.
I pull my old practice jersey all the way off, giving her a look.
She looks so pretty, standing there with her long blonde hair in a braid that's flopped over her shoulder. Her cheeks are flushed from the ice and when she lowers the camera and smiles at me, all the bad thoughts from last night resu
rface.
I don't care that she’s in a sweater today or that her body is completely covered; I kind of like that I’m the only one who knows what she has going on under there.
Her pink lips toy with a grin as she brings the camera back, taking more photos. “That's a really great face, Brady. Stay like that.” She moves around, her legs shaking and her feet unsure, but she manages and takes the pictures.
After about two minutes she stops and nods at the stick on the ice. “Time to play with your stick.”
Why in the hell isn’t she boring and annoying and stressful and rigid?
Shaking my head, I bend and grab the stick, holding it the right way.
“Can you tense and flex everything?” she asks, tilting her head.
I do it and her eyebrow comes up. “Yeah, just like that.” She bites her lip and holds the camera again.
Mike’s words about her being awesome and sexy and cool and all the other things I don't want her to be flash through my mind.
“Yeah, look fierce. That's hot.”
There has to be a way for me to get past these feelings. My cock loves hearing the word no. That instantly makes it intrigued. I wish I could just fuck her and get past it and move on. The moment I realize she’s a regular girl and not something special, is the moment I am freed from this spell.
“I think I have everything. These are perfect. If you want to drop me back at work I can upload and edit, and I’ll let you choose the one I submit.” She smiles wide and I sigh like a douche.
“Sounds good.”
I pull on my shirt, catching her glancing at my chest. At least it isn’t just me wanting her. She wants me too. It should be making me feel better, but it’s making all of this more unacceptable. We could be happily doing it if not for the roommate thing.
“Thanks for doing this, Brady.” She gives me a side-glance. There’s something in those eyes. It’s partly from whatever got her drunk when she was alone last night. It’s not just the hangover.
“Any time.” I wink, keeping up the act that I am completely cool being with her and not touching her. Like we are just two good buddies.
When I drop her off at work I realize I need a new strategy.
She waves and smiles wide, hiding the hurt with every bit of her but those eyes. I smile back too like we’re old girlfriends and my vagina is just as awesome as hers is. But it’s not and I’m not.
I pull away from the curb, dialing Matt.
“Yo, Bro. What’s going on? Sami wants to know how Nat is?”
“She’s weird. She’s hungover as fuck. She got drunk alone. Whatever they fought about, it was bad. Did Sami tell you anything?”
“Uhhhh, no. She just said it was about Nat’s ex-boyfriend.”
“Ex?” My chest tightens. “They broke up?”
“I don't know, man. Why?” He sounds like he’s smiling.
“What the fuck, dude? You hook me up with this roommate who’s hot as a Victoria’s Secret model, and yet she’s got a boyfriend. Is this some kind of hazing before New York will even look at me? Is blue balls and a bad attitude part of what you all are looking for?”
Matt laughs. “No, dude. It was honestly to help her. Nat never would have moved out or lived with you. She does everything her parents say. It's weird.”
“She’s an only child, Matt. Her parents are intense because of it.” I’m defending her now?
“I know. I’ve met her. She’s cool. She’s honestly the coolest of all the girls from their crowd. Ouch!” He cries out. I assume Sami slapped him. “Just don't bang her. She’s not ready to meet the one-eyed monster, BJ.”
“Fuck you!”
He laughs harder. “Seriously, don’t fuck her. Be a good boy. Just be nice to her. Treat her like an ugly chick. Ouch!” He cries out again. “All right, man, I gotta smack some ass over here. She’s starting shit. Take care. See you soon.”
Someone makes kissy noises in the phone as he hangs up. I assume it’s Sami.
My mind is stuck on treating Nat like an ugly girl. Yeah, it’ll never happen.
Chapter Seventeen
The next two weeks
Brady
Hockey.
Home game. I sort of wish she’d come, but I didn't invite her. At least my mom and brother came.
Hockey.
Beer.
Awkward silence and weird longing.
Cheeky underwear.
Fuck.
Ugly girl.
Chapter Eighteen
Longest two weeks ever
Natalie
Work.
Video games.
Work.
Run.
Video games.
Why isn’t he talking to me?
Chapter Nineteen
Friends!
Natalie
Looking at the message, my insides are as tight as they can get. I read it over one more time, hoping it’s some kind of bad dream.
Hey girls, not sure how many of you know about each other or about me, but I just thought since we all sort of belong to the same harem of sorts, I would reach out. I’ll start the introductions, I’m Natalie. I’m the one some of you pretended to be friends with while you had sex with my boyfriend. I know what you’re all thinking, seeing all twenty-three names on this list. STDs. I thought the same thing. I’ve gone and gotten tested and I think we all should. Clearly William has a problem. Which means we can’t assume we’re the only ones. You’re just the ones I know about. I think we can safely double that number. That's almost fifty women. Some might be whores or strippers. So if you all go and get tested that would be great. If you come across anything nasty, just let me know. In fact, be a dear and let us all know. Cheers, ladies.
It makes me feel sick.
How could I think this was a good idea? I’m never drinking again.
I take a breath and cling to my phone. The bathroom stall at work feels safe with the walls so tight around me. It’s been two weeks since I found out about the girls. I hadn’t given it the proper amount of rage and anger that it deserved. I just shut everyone and everything out. I worked and gamed and ate whatever Brady had in the fridge for me.
Until three nights ago when I phoned Rich, Will’s brother, and made him tell me every girl he knew about. Of course I had most of their numbers, most were my friends, and it wasn't hard to get the rest. Last night I got drunk while Brady was at an away game and sent the message. Now I’m hungover and waiting for the ball to drop. Waiting for one of the twenty-three to respond. No one has. I woke to this hot mess and now I don't know what to do.
I screenshot it and send it to Sami.
My phone rings a moment later. “Hey.”
“OH MY FUCKING GOD, I LOVE YOU!” she screams. It’s a weird response since we haven’t spoken in weeks. She’s tried but I haven’t had the ability. “This is amazing. I am dying! Has he called you yet?”
“No,” I whisper.
“Stop being so damned dramatic. You caught him being a dickwad, that's all. I miss you. I hate that I have to force Brady to take photos of you randomly so he can send them to me so I see you.”
“Dude.” I wrinkle my nose. “Creepy.”
He’s been taking pictures of me secretly? WTF? He’s barely talked to me since I forced him to be my cover model.
“You’re forcing me to do it. I miss you. I’m sorry.” She sounds sad again.
“Please don't say sorry anymore. I don't care. I know what you did was never intended to be mean to me. You’ve never been mean to me, since we were five. Never. I believe you and I’m sorry I got so pissed and acted crazy.” And it's the truth. I knew it the morning I woke up, but I couldn't talk about it. I woke in my bed, tucked in with my red dress on the floor and my door closed, but I don’t remember putting myself to bed. I remember dinner, the bad things Sami told me, and that’s it. Everything else is a blank. “I’m ashamed of being so easy to trick and being so gullible and that I blamed you and Matt for something William did.
&nb
sp; “How’s it going?” She sounds concerned again. “I mean, other than sending a random slut-shaming letter to most of our friends.”
“Oh, I don't even know what I was thinking. Everything else is fine. Work is great. Apparently, I might have a bit of a drinking problem—blackout drunk twice in two weeks.”
“I’ll show you drinking problems. I’ve been drunk before three every day this week. How’s Brady?” she asks jokingly, but I know she’s worried.
“Weird. Distant. I roped him into being my cover model and since that day he’s been weird. Spending a lot of time away from home. I’m assuming you guys told him what you told me, and he’s freaking out thinking I think we should just move in and start—anyway he’s been super distant and not home much. It’s sort of strange. We were hitting it off awesome and then not. We’re still doing fine, it’s just awkward now. Which it shouldn't be. It should be easier; we’ve lived together for like three weeks. I wish you guys hadn’t told him.”
“I never told him. Maybe Matt did.”
“Maybe. Maybe I was too forward when I did the photo shoot. I was joking around a lot, but he did look sexy. Maybe I scared him. I was pretty hungover and gross.”
“I wouldn’t worry. He’s probably busy with hockey. They eat, sleep, and dream about it. What did you do for the last two weeks?”
My gaze lowers to the cold floor in the bathroom and I contemplate lying down. “Nothing. I played video games, went for runs, worked, and played more video games. It’s been good and bad. I need to break things off with William. I’ve been avoiding him since you were here. Sending like crappy one word texts so he doesn't think I’m dead and get my mom worked up.”
“Can I come for a visit?”
“Please come.” I close my eyes and fight off the tears.
“I’ll meet you at the apartment when you get off. What time is that at, like four?”
“Five. I’ll be there by five fifteen.”
“Okay, me too.”