As the end of the first period closes in, Chicago ties with Philly one-one. I have to pee, but I don’t want to leave my seat, worried someone will recognize me. Alex is killing it out there, but he can’t seem to get the puck past the goalie. I can practically taste his frustration. The puck is a black blur across the ice as Philly gains control. I crane my neck to see what’s happening when a body slams against the plexiglass and scares the living bejesus out of me.
It’s déjà vu. Those pretty, pretty eyes bore into mine the way they did the first time I saw him play. They hold shock, surprise, and a whole lot of sexy as his mouth drops open. I wave shyly. He’s so close; if it weren’t for the damn plexiglass, I would be able to touch his sweaty, fuzzy face.
Our eyes lock for the briefest moment before he pries himself off the glass and bolts down the ice after the puck. For the rest of the period, I feel Alex’s gaze on me and meet it often when he’s on the bench. He looks hopeful, worried, desperate, and determined at the same time. Interestingly enough, it's a reflection of my own emotions. I can’t sit still, nervously wringing my hands every time we make eye contact.
It’s an intense game with a close score. I’m already in celebration mode in the third period. That is until Philly scores a goal with two minutes left, tying the game. The crowd goes insane. Fans scream at the Hawks’ goalie and freak out on the defense. Unable to recover, they go into overtime. I’m on the edge of my seat, my butt puck no longer underneath me but pressed up against the glass as I scream Alex’s name.
He steals the puck from the Philly center and flies down the ice. I can see ten years of figure skating come into play as he maneuvers around his opponents with incredible grace. He dances with the puck, getting in close to the net only to pass to Darren and skate around behind it.
Philly’s goalie is focused on Darren, so he doesn’t notice Alex come around the other side. Instead of taking the shot, Darren passes back. By the time Philly realizes what’s happening, it’s too late. Alex taps the puck; it sails past the goalie’s stick and ricochets into the net.
And just like that, Alex scores the goal to win the Cup.
The crowd goes absolutely wild, and so do I. It’s a high like I’ve never experienced before. The Hawks swarm the ice, slamming into each other in aggressive, enthusiastic hugs. Wives and kids meet their sweaty, excited husbands and fathers in the middle of the rink, where the media film the action and broadcast it on the huge screens.
The Cup, in all its majestic glory, is passed among the team. Alex raises it above his head and skates around the center of the rink, his triumphant grin directed at me. A camera is suddenly trained on me, and my face is plastered on the huge screen for the entire arena to see. I raise the butt puck, shielding my face, and return his excited smile.
Eventually we make our way out of the arena, and Sidney drags the three of us toward the locker room. I want to be here, but my stomach is in knots. My mom and Charlene flank me in an attempt to protect me from the media slores. They’re so busy questioning the team they don’t notice me. Not yet, anyway.
A million microphones are pointed at the team, with Alex front and center. They’re all beaming, gripping the massive trophy. One reporter shoves the mic in Alex’s face.
“How does it feel to score the winning goal?”
“It feels good to be able to come through for my team on such an important night. We worked together to make it happen.” Alex throws an arm around Darren, who stands beside him. “I’m proud of my teammates for bringing the Cup home.”
This is the version of Alex I thought I knew; the one who shares the victory. His eloquence and humility are sexy. I want this to be the real him, the man I’ve fallen for.
He scans the crowd and when he finds me, his smile widens, those dimples deepening. He passes the trophy off to Darren and grabs the microphone from the closest sportscaster. To her credit, she tries to hold on. It’s comical the way her arm extends as Alex yanks it out of her grasp.
“I need to say one thing.” He reassures her, then seeks me out once again. “Violet Hall. I’m an idiot for not saying this sooner. I’m in love with you.”
A split second of silence follows his declaration. The subsequent roar of the crowd is deafening. Reporters' questions blend together in the cheers and screams. Cameras flash incessantly, blinding me and making it impossible for me to see past the spots in my vision. Microphones are shoved in my face. I can’t hear their questions. Besides, I’m too stunned to speak.
Alex Waters stole his own thunder in front of the entire sports-watching nation.
VIOLET
It’s the cheesiest declaration of love ever. It belongs in one of those romantic comedies my mom forces me to watch on girls’ night. The ones I secretly love but pretend to hate.
I’m frozen, which is unfortunate since my mouth is hanging open in utter shock. I know I should do something, but I can’t seem to connect my brain to my body. Charlene is bouncing beside me, screaming her head off at the reporter who keeps trying to ask me questions I’m unable to answer. My mom grabs the microphone and graciously responds for me. She ignores their commentary on my relationship with Alex and tells them how excited I am that the Hawks won the cup. It works for me.
Alex passes his mic back to the wide-eyed woman and pushes his way through the crowd.
“I love you,” Alex says. I can’t hear the words because it is too damn loud. For all I know he’s actually saying “vacuum” which looks like “I love you.”
The romance and sweetness of the sentiment is devoured by the incessant clicking of cameras and the overwhelmingly raucous cheers of the crowd. This is definitely not the way I imagined the first real ILY going down, but I’ll take it. Somewhere down the line it’ll make a good story—if there’s a somewhere down the line for us.
Alex takes my face between his hands and presses his lips against mine. His beard tickles my mouth and nose.
Disregarding his smelliness and the dampness of his palms, I thread my fingers through his sweaty hair. He wraps an arm around my waist and bends me backward as he goes in for a real kiss. The mouth fucking commences. Good Lord, he’s just going for it. His lips are warm, his tongue soft as he eagerly seeks out my own. I've missed this. The way it feels to be touched by him, kissed. I strain to get closer, impeded by padding. As hot as this is, considering how long it’s been, I’m thinking it would be a good plan to stop while we’re ahead.
“Um, Alex?” It’s difficult to get a word out when he goes in for yet another kiss.
His arm tightens around me. “I missed you.”
“Um, yeah, I get that, but do you think we could continue this somewhere more private?” I don’t want to look like a complete ho-bag if I can avoid it.
“Huh?” Alex pops back into reality as he surveys our surroundings. Numerous phones and cameras are aimed at us right now, along with several mics. “Oh. I’m sorry. Of course.”
There’s a ridiculous amount of excitement as he waves to the screaming crowd, and he blushes when he sees Charlene and my mom behind me, flanked by an irritated Sidney. Buck is behind the line of reporters, wearing an expression similar to Sid's. Alex keeps a protective arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me along as he clomps his way to the locker room. Inside, a few mostly naked guys mill around. Now that I know them by name, and most of them have seen me in a similar state of undress, it doesn’t feel right for me to be in here.
I cover my eyes with my hands. “Maybe I should meet you at the bar.”
I motion with my elbows in what I’m sure approximates an uncoordinated version of “The Chicken Dance.” With my hands still in front of my face, I sidestep in the direction of the door only to slam into the wall.
Alex takes me by the shoulders and turns me around. “You can open your eyes now, Violet.”
I spread my fingers and peek through them.
He takes my hands in his. “Promise me you’ll be at the bar?”
He looks so worried. My silence has
been as hard on him as it’s been on me, but I feel somewhat justified. He did tell the entire sports watching nation we were just friends, after all.
I nod, excitement and anxiety duking it out in my stomach. “I promise.”
He ducks down, his lips close to mine. “I probably should’ve asked before I kissed you the first time, eh? Can I steal one more? Please?”
At my nod, he touches his lips to mine. He doesn’t try to slip me the tongue this time.
My parents and Charlene are waiting outside the locker room. They surround me like security detail, shielding me from the flash of camera phones, video cameras, and outstretched mics. Alex has certainly created a buzz tonight.
“I knew he’d finally get it right!” my mom yells.
Charlene nods. “Here I thought Alex was pulling out the big guns with the interview! Everyone’s going to be talking about this!”
As we make our way to the after-party event, my nerves kick into high gear. As awesome and embarrassing as it is to be on the receiving end of a public profession of love, Alex and I still need to talk.
Tonight’s party is a private affair, but the venue is still packed. The crowd is in a celebratory mood courtesy of the win. I accept a tall glass of champagne and sugary shooters, more as a means to manage the nerves than anything else. By the time the Hawks arrive, I’m tipsy.
Alex finds me immediately. “I can’t tell you how glad I am you’re here. It makes the win so much better,” he says. His lips brush my cheek, but he doesn’t make another move to kiss me. “I have so much I want to say.”
While a conversation is coming, it will have to wait until later, when he’s not the center of attention and in celebration mode. His teammates and his family swarm him, but he keeps a tight hold on my hand. It’s difficult because so many people want to bask in his glow tonight. I can sense how divided he is by the way he constantly reaches for me, making sure I haven’t disappeared.
An hour into the party Alex switches to water and stops accepting drinks. I follow suit, aware we should be sober for our inevitable talk.
We find Charlene at a table with Darren. Buck and Sunny are cozied up together as well, along with both sets of parents. I look to Alex to gauge his reaction to the way Buck’s arm is casually slung across the back of Sunny’s chair. Surprisingly, he doesn’t seem worried. Although, I suppose in the past month, Buck has made it abundantly clear to the media hounds that he’s off the market.
Robbie stands as soon as he sees me, his smile broad as he opens his arms and welcomes me with a hug. “It’s very good to see you again, Violet.”
“You, too.”
He smiles down at me. “I’m sorry my son was a dipshit.”
Alex’s dad is the best. I don’t think he sugar-coats anything. “Me, too, but I think we’re going to try to work it out.”
“I’m happy to hear that.”
Daisy stands when Robbie releases me. She runs her hands down my arms, her smile soft. She leans in and air kisses my cheek. “He’s been miserable without you.”
It’s Daisy’s version of an apology, and I accept it. “I’ve been miserable without him, too.”
We join the table; it’s cramped and Alex has to put his arm around me so both of us can fit on the bench. The closeness is welcome, as are his whispered words of apology every time he leans in to kiss my cheek.
When the party starts to wind down, Alex makes a call for a car to pick us up. We say our good-byes and leave the bar. Once we’re in the car, Alex gives the driver his address but holds up a hand and turns to me. “I know it’s late and we have a lot to talk about, but I would really love for you to come home with me. I’ll understand if you’d rather I take you back to your apartment.”
The idea of going home holds no appeal, now that I’m here with him. I’d rather figure out how we move forward from this. “I’ll come back to your place.”
The tinted glass divider whirs up, separating us from the eyes and ears of the driver.
Alex takes my face in his hands. “It’s been so shitty without you.”
I put my hands on his chest when he goes in for a kiss. I’m aching for his touch, and my beave definitely wants to hug the monster cock. Unfortunately, if I allow the kissing to continue, I won’t be capable of coherent thought, let alone words. Plus, we’re not actually alone.
“I think we should talk.” I’m all breathy and clinging to his shoulders. It’s hardly convincing.
“You’re right.” His lips are still on mine. “We definitely need to talk.” He softens his kisses as though he’s preparing to stop. I fail to push away. Instead, I suck on his bottom lip, so he maintains a slow mouth fuck. I underestimated how much of an impact he has on me—physically and emotionally. After a couple minutes where I don’t make an effort to pull away, Alex shifts until I’m lying on the back seat.
“Wait!” I cry.
He releases me immediately, and I sit up and move back a few inches so we’re no longer touching anywhere. This helps with the whole perspective and control issue. While the interview explained a lot, it’s not a replacement for a real discussion.
“I can’t do this yet.” I adjust my shirt and try to get my breathing under control.
He runs a rough hand through his hair and scratches his beard. God, it’s sexy. “I know. You’re right. It’s just been so long since I’ve touched you. I’m sorry.”
My stomach drops into my toes. We’re doing this right now. I’ve never done the “we need to talk” without it ending in a breakup.
“What are you sorry for?” Beyond an apology, I want the explanation I never got. Or never let him give me.
“For saying you were just a friend when I should’ve said I’m in love with you. For listening to my stupid-ass agent, who I fired, by the way. For blindsiding you and not telling you how I felt about you sooner.”
It’s a decent list. I want so badly to forgive him and move on, but he ripped my heart out and high-sticked it into the dumpster. “Do you understand how much you hurt me?”
He turns, facing me, and takes my hands. “I know, and I’m sorry. As soon as I said it, I wanted to take it back, but I couldn’t. I didn’t know how to fix it once it was done. You wouldn’t talk to me.”
“Can you blame me?”
“No. What I did was awful.” His knee bounces nervously. “I know an apology is just words if it isn’t followed by action. I just want a chance to show you that I love you. There’s a huge void in my life, and you’re the only person who can fill it.”
“How do I know you mean any of this? How do I know this isn’t part of some publicity stunt to help boost your reputation?” It’s a reasonable, if not slightly neurotic, question.
“Come on, Violet. You know me better than that.”
“Do I? I’m not sure if that’s true. One minute you were asking me to move in with you, and the next you tell the media we’re just friends. How does that even work, Alex?”
There’s no denying how I felt about him before he did what he did, and those feelings are definitely still there. However there are so many sticky webs to weave through, and I don’t want to end up tangled in them.
“I should’ve been upfront with you about Dick and the endorsements. None of it felt right, but I was under so much pressure. It’s a terrible excuse. I know that. I’m not justifying why I said what I said. I’m just trying to explain so you’ll understand and maybe find a way to forgive me.” He sighs. “You’re here right now, so I hope you want to work this out, too. Unless you’re just here for . . .”
“Here for what?”
“This.” He motions below his waist.
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Alex look truly insecure. As a famous hockey player, women must want to use him for sex all the time. Meaningless sex could make a person feel lonely and resentful after a while.
I give him a small, sad smile, gesturing to the front of his pants. “That may have been how we ended up together in the first place. But it’s not
why I came home with you.”
He looks relieved. “Do you think you can forgive me?”
Avoidance was so much easier in some ways. “I think so.”
“Then talk to me, please. Tell me what you need.”
What he did was hurtful, but at the same time, I’ve made this harder on myself by postponing a conversation. Instead of confronting him, I shut him out. If I want to be with Alex, I have to let him in, at least a little.
“There’s a big difference between being evasive with the media and flat out denying anything was going on between us. I need to know you’re never going to do something like this to me again.” I can’t stop the tears from leaking out of the corners of my eyes. Sometimes being an emotional girl sucks.
“I made some bad decisions, Violet. I compromised your integrity with the locker room sex, and I created a lot of issues for my team because I kept my relationship with you from Butterson. I did a piss-poor job of managing the situation.” Alex cups my face in his palms and brushes away my tears. I’m shocked to find his hands are shaking. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to make it up to you. Please don’t cut me out of your life again.”
He’s so earnest in his plea. I have two options here. I can take a leap of faith and put my heart back on the line for this man, or I can walk. As terrifying as it is, I’d rather take a chance on him than wonder if we could’ve made it work if I’d been a little braver.
I take a deep, steadying breath. “Just don’t do something like that ever again and I won’t have to.”
“I won’t. I promise.” The car comes to a stop as he moves to kiss me, and the intercom in the ceiling crackles.
“We’ve arrived, Mr. Waters.”
Alex closes his eyes and exhales on an annoyed sigh. Releasing his hold on me, he reaches over and opens the door and Jeeves offers me his hand. I accept it, feeling a little unsteady after such an intense conversation. Alex thanks him, and guides me up the steps to his house.
Once we’re inside, things become awkward again. He shoves his hands in his pockets and offers me a drink.
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