by Gina Azzi
I snicker as Austin’s grin grows.
“You requested this, didn’t you?” I ask.
He takes my hand and leads me to the dance floor, right in the center. For a moment, we’re the only two in the space but slowly, it fills up, with Marissa and Adam taking a place beside us.
Austin tugs me into his arms, his hand settling on my hip the way it did so many moons ago. A shiver skates up my spine, just like it did when I was fourteen. Then, I wanted to cry because my date kissed another girl. Now, I could almost care less that my ex-fiancé recently cheated on me.
I inch even closer to Austin, until the warmth of his skin seeps into mine. He grips me tighter and I melt into him.
“Just be happy it’s not Madonna’s ‘Like A Virgin,’” he jokes, reminding me of the drinking game we played just last weekend.
“You wouldn’t get up in this crowd and sing karaoke,” I say, even though I’m pretty sure he would.
He pulls back and fixes me with a look that calls me out. I chuckle.
“Don’t dare me,” he says.
“I won’t,” I say. “At least, not yet.”
Austin’s hand slides from my hip to my lower back and I arch into him. The look in his gaze changes, the amusement giving way to a seriousness I’ve rarely seen in him. “You look beautiful, Chloe.”
“Thank you.”
“And he’s definitely jealous.” He spins me out before bringing me back into his embrace, even closer this time.
I gasp, both from his words and his dance moves. “Steve?”
Austin nods, his hand splaying wide in the center of my back. His pinkie finger slips beneath the material of my dress and drags down my skin slowly. “Hasn’t taken his eyes off you once,” he murmurs, an edge to his tone. I start to pull back but Austin holds me closer. “Don’t look, Sunshine. Just let me dance with you.”
My heart beats rapidly at his words, at the meaning underneath them. Is he telling me this to make Steve more jealous? Or because he likes holding me just as much as I’m enjoying being in his arms?
The song ends and I start to pull away again. “Ed’s done singing.”
Austin shakes his head as another slow song starts. “But we’re not done dancing.”
My throat dries and my skin tightens as awareness blazes through me. I don’t know when this stopped being about Steve and my saving face but it did. Because right now, I don’t care what anyone thinks except Austin. Two deep pools of blue hold my gaze and I dive into them, savoring this moment, this dance, the way I feel in Austin’s arms.
I feel eerily like I’m at home, which is crazy. Absurd.
My heart flutters in my chest and my stomach twists.
I have butterflies. When was the last time I had them? Over three years ago now. Is that how long it’s been since I’ve felt…desired? Cherished?
The way Austin’s looking at me right now makes me feel both. He makes me feel more beautiful in this moment than Steve ever did.
“You really don’t mind that everyone here thinks we’re dating? A couple?”
He shakes his head, flashing a lopsided grin. “I started that trumor, didn’t I?”
“Trumor?” I question.
“A true rumor,” he explains. “We will be each other’s dates a lot this summer.”
I snort. “Only you.” I slide my hand up and around his shoulder. “And you really want to come to the wedding in August?”
He rewards me with one of those leisurely, knowing smiles. “You’re too late, babe.”
I frown, pulling back to look up at him.
“Adam already invited me,” he explains, dipping me.
I chuckle as he pulls me back up. “Oh, really?”
He nods. “But I told him I’d bring you as my plus one.”
I laugh, loudly. We draw looks from nearby dancers. Where Steve would have been embarrassed, Austin grins.
“On one condition,” he continues.
“What’s that?” I ask, waiting for some ridiculous rule.
“You tell me, for real, if our trumor becomes too true. Too real for you.” His eyes hold mine, serious.
I nod slowly, clearing my throat. What if it did become too real? What if the spark of feelings I’m already having gave way to something more? Is he worried I’d be clingy? That it would ruin our friendship? I close my eyes for a moment, pushing the thoughts away. Austin and I made a deal and I know where we stand. I just need to stick to it. “We’re really doing this? All the summer dates?”
Austin nods, his hands linking at the base of my spine, cradling me. His expression is a mixture of serious and playful. “I think our trial run has been pretty successful.”
I glance over his shoulder, noting the several guests who avert their gazes. “I’d have to agree.”
Austin guides me through one more spin before pulling me flush against his chest. “So say yes, Sunshine.”
“Yes.”
9
Austin
“Someone’s in a good mood,” my sister announces as I step into our parents’ kitchen.
“What are you doing here?” I ask Claire.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
I hold up a sack of laundry my mother, angel that she is, did for me.
“Jesus,” Claire scoffs, jabbing the tines of her fork in my direction. “Mom still does your laundry.”
“When I’m in a pinch,” I admit sheepishly.
“What pinch? You’re not even working.”
“You’re here eating lunch. What’s the matter? Don’t feel like cooking?”
Claire dips her head and I grin. Leaning over the table, I pull the glass container of lasagna over and swipe a fork before taking a big bite. “Too lazy to put it on a real plate?”
Claire flips me the bird. “How was Martha’s Vineyard?”
At her pointed question, disguised in an innocence I know better than to believe, my guard goes up. “Fun.”
Claire sighs and pulls the container back. “East told me Scott’s hosting a BBQ this weekend.”
I sigh, knowing where this is going. Scott Reland, our team owner, hosts a BBQ every summer. It’s a chance for the whole team, management, coaches, to socialize in a relaxed atmosphere since we’re technically not in training yet. It’s also a chance for players to bring around their families, children, significant others. It’s casual and fun and the perfect place to break in a new girlfriend to hockey life. “It’s Friday.”
“I know; I’m going.”
“Then I’ll see you there.” I swipe another bite of lasagna. Jeez, our mother is really the best. Lasagna and laundry on a Wednesday afternoon.
Claire sighs again, heavily like her life is unbelievably overwhelming. I keep my gaze averted. “You should invite Chloe.”
My head snaps up. “Why would I drag Chloe into the lion’s den? You and I both know that the BBQ is the first step to declaring a relationship status.”
Claire raises her eyebrows. “And?”
“And,” I say pointedly, “Chloe and I are friends. Just because I started a trumor this weekend doesn’t—”
“A true rumor?” She rolls her eyes. “Thank God you’re an athlete.”
I take a massive bite of lasagna in response to that dig.
“Hey,” my sister whines, pulling the container closer to her. “All I’m saying is, if you guys are going to be each other’s summer dates—”
“To real events,” I clarify, picking up Claire’s can of Diet Coke and taking a swig. There’s no need to admit that I’m not opposed to the idea of bringing Chloe around my teammates when it’s something I’ve always avoided in the past. “To events Mom would have tried to set me up for. Or weddings that Chloe needs a date to. Not a friendly, team BBQ.”
“Oh, it’ll be friendly all right,” Claire mutters.
“What’s that mean?” I narrow my gaze.
She shrugs. “Panda invited some girls for Friday.”
“Some girls?”
�
��Are you going to repeat everything I say?”
“What girls?” I sigh, knowing full well that any girls Luca Pandatelli invited will be of the puck bunny variety. Panda is a notorious player with a new flavor of the week, every week. Every season, I wait for one of his flings-gone-wrong to blow up in his face but the guy is a savage. He somehow manages to never turn a one-night stand into a two-night stand and still remain surrounded by beautiful women. “Christ, he’s going to corrupt Sims,” I say, referencing one of our rookies from last season.
Claire wrinkles her nose, tilting her head. “I’d say Sims has already been sufficiently corrupted.”
My eyes narrow but Claire holds up a hand, stopping me from asking more about Sims. Instead, I lose my patience and growl out, “What girls?”
“Tamara, Elise, Megan…” My sister ticks off women on her fingers like she’s listing ice cream flavors. But all the women she names, while nice people, are kind of like team groupies and have spent several nights in the beds of several different players.
I sigh. They’ve also all been hounding me since we won the Cup. The offers are endless and while generous, I’m just not interested. Not that I can admit that without looking like a massive pussy.
“So, if you and Chlo are planning to spend the summer flirting around a trumor, then you should have no problem inviting her to Scott’s BBQ. Unless you want to get friendly with some other woman on Friday night,” my sister concludes, her gaze watchful once more.
Shit. I don’t want to be friendly with any of those women and worse, my sister knows it.
I swear and Claire grins. She nudges my phone closer to my hand. “Call her. I’m sure she’d love to meet the team. Besides, if you guys are just friends helping each other out this summer, then you should introduce her to James.” She casually drops the name of our longest-playing defenseman now that Torsten retired and moved to New York. James Ryan lost his wife nearly a year ago and while he hasn’t started dating yet, a woman like Chloe—serious, committed, thoughtful—would be better suited to a man like him, with two kids and a house, than me, a bachelor with commitment issues and raging anxiety.
A wave of anger burns through me at the thought of Chloe with any of the guys on my team. With any guy, period. It was bad enough having to witness douchebag Steve’s eyes trail her all weekend but if I had to watch any of my teammates look at her with lust on their faces, I’d knock them out.
Is the team BBQ an event? Because we did agree to help each other out for events…
“I can’t stand you,” I tell my sister, picking up my phone.
Claire blows me a kiss. “I’m your fave.”
“Pain in the ass.”
“Call her.”
I shake my head and shoot off a text instead. A text message is more casual. It’s…safer.
Me: Hey Sunshine. How’s your week shaping up?
She texts back within minutes and I can’t stop the grin that spreads across my face.
“Aww,” Claire sing-songs. I ignore her.
Chloe: Icing.
Me: What?
Chloe: A delaying tactic in hockey
Me: Are you studying hockey rules?
Chloe: I’m adding a hockey term to this week’s crossword.
I chuckle.
Me: Missing me that much?
Chloe: Thinking of you isn’t the same as missing you.
My eyebrows rise at her honesty.
Me: Isn’t it though?
Chloe: (shrugging emoji) I had fun this weekend.
I smile again, shifting my weight as Claire practically throws herself across the island to read my messages.
Me: Me too. Interested in doing it again this weekend?
Chloe: Sara’s wedding is next month.
Me: I have a team BBQ at the Hawks owner’s place on Friday. Come with me?
Chloe: As your date?
Me: You’re going to make me really ask, aren’t you?
Chloe: Duh.
I smirk.
“What’s she saying?” Claire whines. “I need details. My life has been dull since Indy got knocked up and Rielle married Torsten of all people.”
I reach over to flick her ear and she yelps, pressing both hands to the side of her head.
Me: Sunshine, will you please be my date to a team BBQ on Friday?
Chloe: I’d love to.
Me: Pick you up at 3.
Chloe: What do I wear?
I snort, exasperated. The woman could wear a rucksack and stun.
Me: It’s casual. Be comfortable.
Chloe: I’ll call Claire.
Me: No need. She’s pretty much dangling off my arm for information. She’ll call you.
Chloe: (laughing emoji face) Mimi is all over me for details about this weekend too.
Me: Did you bring her more doughnuts?
Chloe: All jelly filled. I’m her favorite grandkid.
Me: I have no doubt. Just so you know, you coming on Friday means the team is going to think we’re a thing.
Chloe: Our trumor is spreading.
Me: I’m not mad about it.
Chloe: Me neither. I’ll follow your lead. I’m game for however you want to play this.
Me: You’re really are the perfect woman, you know that?
Chloe: Yeah. You told me that the last day of sophomore year.
I laugh, recalling the moment she’s referring to.
Claire’s eyebrows nearly fly off her forehead. “Laughter and banter,” she muses.
Me: You needed a ride to school for a final exam so you filled my gas tank. Which you didn’t have to do.
Chloe: Just reminding you what a perfect female specimen looks like.
Me: (winking emoji) Trust me, I’ve always known it was you. See you Friday. Hit me up if you need more hockey lingo.
Chloe: See you Friday.
“She’s in.” I turn to Claire, placing my phone back on the counter.
Claire rolls her eyes. “Right. Like she was going to turn you down after you stuck it to her ex-fiancé.”
“Call her. She doesn’t know what to wear.”
“Fucking Steve.”
“Huh?” I pause, my fork piercing the lasagna at the mention of Chloe’s ex-fiancé.
“I hate how he messed with her head. Now she questions her own intuition, doubts herself.”
I cross my arms over my chest, forgetting about the lasagna. It’s something I noticed too but maybe Claire can shed some additional light on Chloe’s self-consciousness. “What do you mean?”
Claire lifts an eyebrow. “When did Chloe ever worry about wearing the wrong thing?”
I flip through a handful of mental images, recalling how Chloe was often called out for not dressing trendy enough. Still, she never cared and she rocked everything with a confidence that fit her. “Never.”
“Exactly.”
“He really did a number on her, huh?”
Claire nods, giving me a pointed look. “Look, Austin, I know you and Chloe are joking around about your trumor. But if you’re going to be Chloe’s date to all these events and vice-versa, just make sure you’re careful with her feelings.”
“Of course I’m careful with her feelings. The only reason why I agreed to Martha’s Vineyard was to protect Chloe’s feelings.”
“I know.” Claire holds up a hand. “It’s just, well, her feelings over Steve are raw. And you and Chlo always had a connection, a close relationship. This summer, we need to help build her back up, not make her feel worse.”
“I’d never—”
“I know. Not on purpose.” Claire cuts me off and shrugs. “All I’m saying is be smart about it.”
I nod, turning my sister’s words over in my mind. Her observations aren’t far from their mark. Chloe is fragile right now. I noticed it at the engagement party. I cringe recalling what she confided in me about her and Steve and their lack of a sex life.
What a dick.
As if any man wouldn’t be the luckiest SOB on the planet to r
un his hands over her curves, to kiss her fluttering pulse at the base of her throat, to slide inside of—
“Mom’s home.” Claire hops off the top of the island, interrupting my wayward thoughts.
I clear my throat, mentally berating myself for having such ridiculous thoughts to begin with. Chloe is my friend. My oldest friend. That’s it. This summer, we’re helping each other out. We’re making her ex jealous and warding off the puck bunnies that have been swarming since the Cup win. If we can have some fun and laughs while we do that, awesome.
But there will be no kissing of throats or sexy times between us.
I won’t allow it.
Because in the short amount of time I spent with Chloe, I learned just how much she yearns to be someone’s priority. And my priority will always be my team, hockey. I don’t have room in my life for a serious commitment which is why I’ve avoided them for so long. I don’t want to consider what a disappointment I’d be to her when I have to choose hockey first. I sure as hell don’t want to hurt her. The thought alone makes my chest tighten and my anxiety spike, until drawing a deep breath is impossible.
I don’t have the ability to be the kind of man Chloe yearns for and so all I’ll ever be is a friend. Her friend.
I just need to keep reminding myself of this very important fact so my thoughts don’t run wild imagining her in overly friendly ways. No matter how much parts of me crave Chloe, Claire is right. This summer, we need to build her back up, help her find her way back to the strong, confident, breathtaking, and kickass woman who never used to second-guess herself.
Tangling underneath the sheets with her is a surefire way to ruin the only female friendship I’ve ever managed to maintain.
Some rules are better left unbroken.
10
Chloe
“You look perfect. Beautiful,” Austin greets me on Friday afternoon.
I roll my eyes but my grin gives away just how much his words please me. How could they not? Have you ever had a man who looks like he stepped out of an underwear ad stare at you like you rival the sun? With sparkling blue eyes and a devilish smirk? If not, you can’t possibly understand just how off-balanced I feel under Austin’s unwavering gaze.