I’m gearing up to ask him to move when the next thing I know, he is kissing me. Hard.
My mouth surrenders to his because I can’t help myself. I crave this man, even if he is bad for my health.
When he pulls back, his hands cupping my face, he looks right in my eyes.
“I’m not pretending,” he grumbles, his tone low, serious. “No matter what you want. Get that out of your head right now.”
I purse my lips, ready to go off on him, but the door opens.
Jerking away from him, I scoot closer to the window. He doesn’t move, which gives me a moment to breathe.
I don’t know what to do about Spencer. I’ve spent countless hours trying to imagine a way that this works out well. I can’t come up with anything. He’s going to get bored and move on. I’m not his type, but neither of us can deny the sex is incredible. I could see that lasting for a little while, especially while he’s trying to get over the fact that his ex is back. I’m his distraction, someone he can use to make himself feel better.
I don’t want to be that for him. I have far too much respect for myself to do that, but I feel trapped. My body wants his and I haven’t had sex like this … ever. As long as I keep my heart locked in that little box I keep it in, I’m sure I’ll be fine when we come out on the other side. On the other hand, I feel myself getting in too deep. I’ve always been a realist. I accept what I feel and I don’t make excuses.
Until him.
Funny thing is, this week, I put that extra place setting at my table and left it there. Every night I ate at home, I added a glass of ice water. I even bought men’s shampoo and body wash and stuck them in my shower. If Spencer happens to notice—he’s the only person besides me who has ever used my shower—I can say I did it for him. So he doesn’t have to smell like fruit in order to get clean. Which, yes, goes against my new mantra of keeping this on a friendly level, but let’s get real. The guy fucks like a dream. I’m not sure my body can resist him, no matter what my brain wants. Those two may just have to agree to disagree for a while.
Other than those things, I’m not sure what else I can do to prove to the universe that I would like a boyfriend in my life. One who wants to call me and talk to me. One who wants to have breakfast with me after we spend the night together. One who would be content to go to the movies or dinner or even stay in and play board games. Okay, maybe not board games. I’m not really into that, but I could see watching television or something.
With the limo so quiet, I can’t help but glance over at Spencer. He’s wringing his hands in his lap, his knuckles white. He seems nervous. I look up at his face, notice sweat beading on his forehead.
It hits me. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen him like this. I think he really is nervous, possibly bordering on panicked. He’s never been that way around me or his friends. He doesn’t put off that vibe at the bar or when I’ve seen him at the arena.
It has to be about the benefit dinner. He’s a guest of honor.
Oh, crap.
I can’t believe I never realized that he has social anxiety. Granted, I’m not a psychiatrist, so my diagnosis means jack, but I call it like I see it.
Without thinking, I reach over and take his hand. Ellie’s eyes instantly lock on the movement, but I don’t pull away. Instead, I give him a gentle squeeze, meeting his eyes when he looks at me. Right now it doesn’t matter that he hasn’t called me during the two weeks we’ve been doing whatever it is that we’re doing. It doesn’t matter that he apologized but had no clue what he was saying he was sorry for. It doesn’t matter that he won’t be the man who has breakfast with me after a night of profound sex, nor will he be the one who takes me to dinner and a movie.
It doesn’t matter.
Right this minute, I am his friend. I am here for him, and I’m going to show him that he’s one of the strongest people that I know. And when the night is over, I’ll worry about the rest.
Tonight is about Spencer. Not me.
20
Spencer
I’M GOING ON RECORD AGAIN to say I hate these things.
I hate getting dressed up. I hate having to socialize with people. I hate having so many eyes on me. And above all else, I hate having to come up with something intelligent to say.
The one thing I don’t hate is Noelle being here with me, and I’m not sure how I feel about that just yet. She has made tonight much easier than I expected, although I can’t seem to relax enough to enjoy her company. I think she’s aware of that as well. When she took my hand in the limo, I felt her sympathy. I think she might be the first person—other than my father—who realizes what I’m going through. I don’t think Ellie has noticed, or if she has, she has never said anything. All in all, it helps knowing that Noelle gets it.
With her at my side, we made it through the initial introductions. While people I have never met before talked as though they knew me, she stood right beside me, intervening when I had trouble piecing together a sentence. She played it off so well I don’t think anyone noticed.
But now comes the hard part. Dinner is finished and Mia is up on the stage. She’ll be calling me up there any minute now. It’s a good thing I didn’t eat much because my stomach is working to send what little I did have right back up.
“Breathe,” Noelle whispers. “You’re gonna be great.”
I nod although I don’t believe it.
“Thank you all for coming,” Mia says, smiling at all the faces staring back at her.
I try not to think about how many people are here, how many eyes will be on me, how many ears will be listening to what I have to say.
“A lot of you have heard my story before, about how my father suffered from depression, about how that disease robbed him of his life. His story’s important to me, but tonight there’s someone else’s story I’d like you to hear, so I’m going to save mine for the one-on-one conversations. Right now, I’d like to ask Spencer Kaufman to join me. Many of you know him as Optimus, the captain of the Austin Arrows. Please give him a big round of applause.”
It takes two attempts to get my feet beneath me, but I manage to make my way up to the stage. As I step up to the podium, I notice that Noelle is getting up from her seat. I’m momentarily distracted, watching as she walks around behind all the tables. She comes to a stop directly in front of me, probably a good thirty or forty feet away.
It takes a second to understand what she’s doing, but as her smile widens and her eyes remain focused on me, I realize she’s giving me something to focus on. Someone. Her.
Her smile does something strange to my insides, and I realize she’s standing there so that I can talk to her rather than all these people who are waiting patiently for me to say something.
“Good evening.” I let my gaze travel across the sea of heads, but I focus on none of them. “I want to preface this by saying that I’m honored to be here tonight. I will never turn down the opportunity to talk about a man I considered one of the greatest hockey players, and an even better friend. Although you may know Mia’s father’s story, I’m not sure if you know Jason’s.” I swallow hard, once again focusing on the beautiful woman in the back. “Jason Arrends was only twenty-eight years old when he completed suicide. He was one of the stars on our team, a player who shined brighter than the rest of us. I remember everything about him. His crazy hair, his exuberant laugh, the almost-funny jokes he would tell, the way he would harass me for every little thing. The man was a good friend.”
I do my best to let my eyes travel around the room briefly as I take a sip of water.
“But what I remember most are a few of the conversations he and I had months before he died. In professional sports, as you can imagine, there are a lot of ups and downs. We win, we lose, we make the playoffs, we don’t, a player gets hurt, a player thinks he’s worth more. Jason experienced these highs and lows like the rest of us, only his highs and
his lows were exacerbated by his mental state. I didn’t think anything of it when he came to me and told me that dealing with everything was just too hard.”
Turning my attention back to Noelle, I keep going. “I suggested he take a deep breath. The season would be over, a vacation opportunity was on the horizon, a weekend away might help. I didn’t realize he didn’t mean it that way. He told me that it would be easier if it was all over.” I close my eyes briefly as the pain of loss hits me, even all these years later. “I didn’t realize that he meant what he said. I thought he was talking about losing. We weren’t having the greatest season, but we had a lot of good times. I thought if he could just wait it out, we’d be riding that high again.”
I fight the tears forming in my eyes but then stop trying. “Jason didn’t make it to the next winning streak, he didn’t make it to the next season, and he didn’t make it to the off-season when the opportunity for time off would be readily available. My friend took his own life because dealing with his inner demons was what he meant when he said it was too hard to deal with everything. To this day, I personally don’t know what that means. I’ve never felt that way. Sure, I’ve had some low points, but I don’t have firsthand experience with depression like he did.
“But thanks to foundations like Mia’s, I know people who have experience with it. People who have suffered, know someone who has, and those who understand how to help them. I can’t help but wonder if I’d known then what I know now, maybe I could’ve helped Jason. If I had only known what depression really was, what the signs were, I could’ve reached out for him, found someone who could’ve talked to him, offered medical treatment.
“It took Jason’s life ending for me to understand that he suffered from something far more serious than sadness. Jason was diagnosed with bipolar depression. The highs and lows he experienced were vastly different than what I’ve experienced. I didn’t have the information necessary because people don’t make a point to educate themselves on suicide. It’s a topic of conversation that’s considered taboo. Or it once was, anyway. That’s changing. And that’s a good thing.”
After taking another sip of water, I push forward, watching Noelle through blurred eyes. “I miss that man. I miss his friendship. I miss the way he harassed me. I miss his crappy jokes and his over-the-top laugh. I can’t bring Jason back and I can’t change what happened to him. But with any luck, if we get information out to the communities, to schools, and to people’s dinner tables, if we raise awareness of this fatal disease, we can help stop suicide. I’m grateful that you’re here tonight. It means that we’re making the necessary strides to call attention to this important topic. Getting the message out there can and will help. We need to talk about this. Until we do, we don’t have a chance of helping anyone like Jason, who didn’t think there was any other way.”
Clapping ensues, starting in the back, and I nod my head, ready to run off the stage. I manage to walk, though, and when I see Noelle waiting for me, I feel a relief so strong I fear I might fall to the floor.
Half an hour later, after several people stopped me to talk about Jason and people in their lives who have been affected, I realize I’m a little overwhelmed.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to steal him away for a dance,” Noelle suggests softly, placing her hand on my arm as I’m talking to one of Mia’s doctor friends.
Clearly she realizes it, too.
“Absolutely,” Johnathan says as he takes his wife’s hand. “I think that’s a brilliant idea.”
I let Noelle guide me to the dance floor. “You know I can’t dance, right?”
She turns to me with a brilliant smile on her face. “Just follow my lead.”
I’ve spent the better part of the night trying to remind myself that I’m here with Noelle as friends. That’s not nearly as easy as it sounds. From the moment I stepped into my sister’s house and saw Noelle standing there in her silky dress, her exquisite body outlined to reflect her utter perfection, I’ve had to fight to keep from ogling her. She looks stunning. She smells even better than she looks.
“Put your arms around me,” she says softly.
I do as she instructs.
She steps up close, her arms coming up to wreath around my neck. And suddenly we’re so close I can smell the subtle hint of her perfume. It’s a light, musky scent that makes my body tense. Or maybe that’s the way her lush body is pressed against me.
“You’ve done really well tonight.”
I pull back enough to look into her eyes. “Don’t lie to appease me,” I say with a chuckle.
“I’m not. I always tell it like it is. And you have… You’ve done really well. Sure, I can tell that you’re nervous, but I can’t say I blame you.”
“Thanks.” Calling it out does nothing to settle my nerves.
“Have you always had issues with these events?”
I’m not sure how much I want to share with Noelle. I tend not to give away too much personal detail to anyone. I learned long ago that sharing can come back to bite me in the ass. When you’re a public figure, anything you say can be quoted, and oftentimes it’s taken completely out of context. I make it a habit to think before I speak. But I find myself laying it all out there anyway. “I hate these things. They make me anxious. I don’t do well talking to people.”
“I think you do better than you realize.”
Now I know she’s trying to be nice.
“Don’t look now, but Amber is watching you.”
I don’t bother to turn and look. I don’t need to. If Amber is looking at me, she’s probably tying together some of the things we’ve talked about. I’ve confided in Amber in ways I didn’t think I was capable of. The fact that I’ve been pushed that far means that this thing between me and Noelle is getting to me. Otherwise, I would’ve convinced Amber to come to this thing with me because she’s safe. I don’t have to worry about what she wants from me. We’re clear on that now.
However, with Noelle here, I feel a million times better than I ever would with Amber or anyone else, despite the continuous churning in my gut.
“I could care less about Amber,” I tell her, pulling her into me as we slowly move across the dance floor.
“No?” Her eyes are wide as she stares up at me.
“No. I’m quite content right here, right now.”
She doesn’t say anything, but her smile dims a little.
“Does that bother you?” I don’t know why I ask that. It doesn’t matter.
“It does and it doesn’t.”
Noelle definitely tells it like it is.
“And why does it bother you?”
She leans in closer and I hold her tighter. Her body feels so good against me and I know that it shouldn’t.
“We’re friends, Spencer.”
“We are,” I agree. Friends who threaten to incinerate the Sheetrock when we’re together.
“I think Amber’s reappearance has got you a little confused.”
“It’s different, sure. I haven’t seen her in a long time and now we’re working together.” I can’t lie to her. I don’t know what I’m doing, but it feels right to me, so I can’t bring myself to stop.
“She was the love of your life. That’s bound to be difficult. And in that regard, I’m not interested in being a distraction. And I’m not interested in being used to make anyone jealous.”
Love of my life? I’m not sure I’d go that far. But it’s Noelle’s last comment that throws me off and I stop moving. I release my hold on her and take a step back. “Is that what you think I’m doing?” I’m offended that she would think I would stoop that low.
“I didn’t say that.” Noelle doesn’t seem at all affected by my defensiveness. “I just want to bring it to your attention.”
I appreciate her honesty, but it still bothers me. I narrow my eyes on her face and move in closer. “Somethin
g’s happening between us, Noelle. I don’t know what it is, and I’ve been trying to take things slow, to keep them uncomplicated, because that’s what you seem to want. The last thing I want is to hurt you.”
Noelle nods and her eyes soften. “Something did happen. But that doesn’t mean we should pursue it. I’m here as your friend. And I’m afraid that’s all I can be, Spencer.”
I don’t like her answer, per se, but I completely understand it. And that’s the only reason I force a smile, pull her closer, and whisper, “You have nothing to worry about. I’m not looking for anything more, either.”
And for the first time, I think I just lied to someone I respect.
Noelle
AS THE NIGHT WEARS ON, I wish I would’ve snuck out with Ellie and Kingston. They disappeared earlier, and right now, I want nothing more than to be at home in my bed, reading something to take my mind off of the crazy thoughts that have been assaulting me for the past hour.
I keep hearing Spencer’s words in my head: You have nothing to worry about. I’m not looking for anything more, either.
It’s not like I wasn’t expecting him to say that, but truth is, his words cut me to the bone. I would’ve preferred to hear him tell me that he wants more than friendship, more than even the brief affair we’ve had. I shouldn’t let it bother me, but my heart has taken control of those words, twisting them around and around like a knife to the heart that’s all but making me bleed.
I’m tempted to leave, to catch a cab back to my place, but I stay for Spencer. I know he’s having a hard time, and I want to be here for him. I’m no martyr, I assure you. I’m simply his friend and I’ve never abandoned my friends. I don’t plan to start now.
He honestly doesn’t realize the good he’s done tonight. Sharing Jason’s story brought tears to people’s eyes, mine included. Personally, I understand more now. He can do so much good by just being who he is.
Kaufman: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 2) Page 17