Each interaction with him left me feeling more and more bewildered by my actions from the first night we met. What about him then caused me to overreact to his words? What changed that now caused me to act like a lush when I encountered him?
His whiskey brown eyes scanned the room as he tucked his sunglasses into the gap at the top of his button-up shirt. It was with a blush that I raised my hand slightly. He acknowledged me with an incline of his head before he approached the counter to order. I worried my lip and considered the half-empty coffee cup before me. I stared at Devon’s broad-shouldered back as he chatted with the barista preparing his drink.
My stomach churned uncomfortably, and I stared at my coffee cup. My knuckles were white from my grip on the handle, and I forced myself to let my hands fall to my lap, slowly flexing my fingers to ease the ache my death grip produced. I fidgeted with the sleeves of my aquamarine sweatshirt and fell into the memories of the previous evening.
The scraping of a chair against the paneled floor pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced up as Devon slid into the seat across from my own. He shoved his coffee and sandwich to the side and sat back with his arms crossed over his chest. The look in his eyes screamed triumph as he quirked an eyebrow at me and smirked in his familiar devil-may-care sort of way.
Heat blossomed in my core, and I reached a shaking hand for my coffee. I couldn’t let myself get distracted by how turned on one look could make me.
— D —
Charlie’s hand shook as she lifted her cup of coffee toward her lips. She cursed under her breath before dropping the cup back onto the table without taking a drink. She tucked her hands into her lap and stared at the tabletop for what felt like an eternity. I drank slowly from my coffee. A blush colored her cheeks, and I hoped she was remembering how right our bodies felt pressed together against the wall of my bedroom. After all, I’d spent all morning lost in the memory of her telling me I tasted like whiskey and inviting me to bed.
I pulled my mind out of the gutter and focused on the quiet woman in front of me. She fidgeted in her seat, and my curiosity piqued. We only moved into the plane of friendship within the past few weeks, and last night found us in a dark bedroom together with my tongue down her throat and my hand up her shirt. She already knew what my lips tasted like on hers, so why was she so nervous now?
“I gotta say, I’m surprised,” I said after a few minutes of silence and uncomfortable anticipation. She glanced up at me sharply.
She wiped her palms down the thighs of her jeans, and I cleared my throat. Charlie cast her eyes downward, so I continued, “You said you wanted to talk, so I thought you might actually have something to say.”
She inhaled sharply, and her jaw clenched as she released a slow breath. A blush colored her cheeks. I was kicking my own ass internally—it was apparent that neither of us showed up prepared to fight, and I needed to stop baiting her.
I’d just opened my mouth to apologize when she said, “I’m sorry that you had to spend more time taking care of me last night. I swear I’m not always a drunk disaster.”
“Charlie, I’m not a complete asshole. You got drunk a couple of times, and you needed help. Any decent person would’ve done what I did.” Except for the part where I tried to take your bra off and was barely able to keep my hands to myself when you pulled away.
I didn’t think I was imagining the bite in her tone when she replied, “Sean certainly didn’t bother to help the first time, and where was he last night?”
I laughed and shook my head. So we made it back to the golden boy again—how was she seriously still interested in that twat? “I said any decent person would’ve, Charlie. Of course Sean didn’t help you.”
“You don’t have to be an asshole,” she retorted sharply, and I couldn’t help but laugh. She rolled her eyes and returned her attention to her coffee.
I shrugged and flashed a smile at her, hoping to relax her just a bit. “I’m sorry, Charlie. It’s rude to talk about your boyfriend that way.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Devon,” she exclaimed with no uncertain amount of exasperation lacing her tone. “He’s no more my boyfriend than you are.”
I felt my jaw set tightly, and my arms crossed over my chest. Her words might’ve been true, but the sting was still there. I may not have been her boyfriend, but that didn’t stop her from pulling me into a dark bedroom and making out with me the night before.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I said tersely. “So what do you want to talk about?”
Charlie pulled her glasses off, dropping them on the table before running her hand down her face. She chewed her, and I forced myself to not let her tongue swiping over the abused flesh distract me. Head out of the gutter, Cote.
“Okay,” she started, “I’m not really sure how to say what I want to say here…”
“Okay…”
“Listen, the night we met at Big Game, I was only there because Lindsey forced me to be. I brought my Kindle because the last time I let Lindsey drag me out, I had a really bad time.”
The guilt that gnawed at my stomach over the thought of her Kindle lying on my bedside table passed quickly. I was curious about her statement, but I had a pretty good idea of why she said it. I felt bad for her. She didn't realize how much of a bombshell she was in comparison to her friend.
“Why’s that?” I asked her simply.
A slight shake of her head told me everything I needed to know without her actually saying anything. Her mouth opened and closed. She took another sip of coffee before finally answering, “It doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that I went to make sure Lindsey didn’t get into trouble, and I didn’t want to be bothered. Instead, you sat across from me and then may or may not have inferred that I had been stood up.”
I opened my mouth to apologize, but she kept going, “My frustration with you transferred to Sean, especially after Cam grabbed my ass and Sean spilled his beer all over me. And then Sean went on to tell me that he didn’t need some fat ass librarian all over his junk, and I just kind of lost it on him.”
I seethed internally over my roommate’s words but let her continue. Charlie went on to detail each of our interactions, from running into each other at the rooftop bar all the way to her argument with Sean that I witnessed at Chili’s. I nodded along, confused but understanding that she needed to get it off of her chest. She glossed over the locker room incident, and I was secretly pleased that it seemed I would never have to share that shame with anyone in my lifetime. She didn’t mention the night before, and I wondered if she remembered the kisses at all. Overall, I didn’t know why she was my telling me these things, and I still didn’t understand what I was supposed to be getting from it.
I cut her off when she finished detailing how much it pissed her off that she had to hang out with me and Cam the first night she came to our apartment. I truly didn’t understand where she was going with her line of thought, and I didn’t have time to sit around and listen to someone that clearly couldn’t care whether or not I was in the same room with her most of the time.
“Charlie, what’s the point of all of this?”
She swirled her coffee around the bottom of her cup as she sighed heavily. “I’m just trying to make sure that you understand that it isn’t just you.”
My eyebrow quirked as I considered the woman before me. “I’m not sure that I understand at all,” I said.
She stared pointedly over my shoulder while chewing on her lip. She seemed to be weighing her words carefully. With a sigh, she responded, “I guess I just really wanted you to know that I’m sorry.”
“For what?” I asked.
— C —
“For everything, I think.” I continued to stare over his shoulder at the gleaming carafes and shining espresso machines on the front counter. I bit my lip. I wanted desperately to run my hands through my hair but settled for rubbing them down my face when I remembered the tight chignon at the nape of my neck.
“I still don’t underst
and,” he said quietly, his confused expression mirroring exactly how I was feeling on the inside.
I bit my lip and sighed. How could I possibly rationalize my behavior in a way that wouldn’t make me seem like a total lunatic? “Picking fights and pushing you until you’re pissed has been a way for me to have an excuse to not be involved with you.” A flush burned from my neck to my ears. Whelp, there goes not sounding like a total lunatic.
“And is that what you want? To not be involved with me?” To be perfectly honest, I didn’t know what I wanted. My cheeks continued to burn as Devon stared at me expectantly. Fuck me, his eyes were beautiful.
“I… no? I just—I don’t know.” I sighed and worried the inside of my cheek. Devon considered me with guarded eyes. His frustration was palpable. “Look, if I’m being perfectly honest, you just need to know that you scare the shit out of me.”
“What?”
I tried my best to explain my jumbled thoughts. “Devon, you’re hot. Like really, really hot.”
“Wait, what? Charlie, I have literally no idea what you’re trying to say here.”
“I’m not scared of you, per se, I’m scared of how you make me act. I mean, look at you, you’re basically God’s gift to women, and I’m me. You could be with anyone that you want to be with—with girls that look like Lindsey—but instead, you’re taking care of me and making out with me in pitch black bedrooms. Devon, I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think no one else is looking, and it doesn’t add up.”
He scoffed, and I looked up at him. He sat, arms crossed over his chest with a hard set to his jaw. A storm was raging behind his eyes, so I continued before he could say anything. “You can sit over there all indignant, but we both know that I’m not your, or hell even Sean’s, usual type of girl. He told me he would’ve slept with Lindsey if I hadn’t gotten in the way, and you clearly would have gone home with that painting instructor last week had you not needed to take care of me. That’s what scares me.
“The man that I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with dumped me for a girl with a quarter of my wit and intelligence because she was half my size with twice my self-confidence. I can’t do that again. I won’t do that again. It’s been over a year, and you’ve seen first-hand how fucked up I still am over it. That’s why whatever this is that’s starting to happen between us has to come to an end.”
“No.”
“What?”
He rolled his eyes and uncrossed his arms to lean toward me over the table. With a hard glint in his eyes, he said, “I’m not your last boyfriend, Charlie. You really think I’m that shallow? Would I have slept with Sarah last week given the opportunity? Absolutely.”
“That’s really reassuring, thanks.”
Devon slammed his hands on the table, not only drawing my attention but also the attention of the handful of other patrons at the coffee shop. “No,” he spat in a furtive whisper, “you don’t get to dismiss me right now. What you need to understand is that the only reason I would’ve slept with her was because I have so much goddamn pent up frustration from watching you fuck around with a man that honestly couldn’t give two shits about you, and I need a release. Yeah, I didn’t get the chance that night because I needed to take care of you. And Charlie? I’m glad that I needed to.
“Did you ever stop to wonder why I approached you at Big Game even though you were hiding in a corner with your Kindle?” I shrugged. “It’s because I thought you were really fucking hot and really fucking intriguing.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but he stilled my words by raising his hand. “Regardless of what you believe, Charlie, I do find you super attractive.” He pushed back in his chair and used the table as a brace as he leaned low to face me head on. “You’re feisty and intelligent, and you have a beautiful body—I mean seriously, your tits are perfect and your ass is out of this world. I get it—your last boyfriend was an asshole, but don't you dare lump me in with him just because it makes you comfortable.
“I’m fine if you don’t want to explore whatever it is that’s starting to happen between us because you’re not interested in me, or because you have feelings for Sean—which is absolute fucking bullshit—by the way. I’m not fine with you pushing me away because you assume I’m going to be a total asshole based on one interaction. If you want me to back off so Sean can pursue you or so you can be safe and alone in your comfort zone, that’s fine but make sure you’re doing it for the right reasons.”
I leaned back in my chair. Did I want to end our budding relationship simply because I was projecting Mason’s asshole actions onto Devon? Did I even have a relationship to end? I glanced up at Devon, his hard eyes staring into my own. The question in his eyes read: am I worth this risk? Neither of us moved.
His phone dinged on the table. He glanced down, breaking us from our trance. With a sigh, he said, “I have to go—I have an interview for City Paper this afternoon.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“And listen,” he continued as he gathered his belongings and turned toward the door, “We’re throwing a huge, pre-playoffs party. I really want you to be there, but I want it to be on your terms. So here’s what I’m gonna do: I’m not gonna bother you at all for the next couple of weeks, but I want you to really think about what you want and let me know then. I’ll respect your wishes because I am a decent dude, but I need you to know that what I want is you.”
Chapter 13
— C —
Sneaking unnoticed into Valors events was quickly becoming a bad habit of mine. My week passed in a blur of frustration. I was frustrated with Devon for holding on tight to his promise not to interact with me until the party. I was frustrated with Lindsey for dropping clothing pieces off at my house that were no better than lingerie all week long because she assumed I was attending the party as Sean’s date. I was frustrated with myself for never bothering to correct her. Above all else, I was frustrated with myself for letting my insecurities rule my actions over the last several weeks. No amount of self-love could fill the hole I dug for myself.
Rather than be accountable for my actions, I chose to sneak into the party nearly an hour late. I stuck to the perimeter of the main room of the clubhouse before sneaking into a room down the first hallway I came across. The thought of Sean’s arm wrapping around my waist and his hand finding its way into unapproved territory made my skin crawl. In the beginning, I’d thought maybe he was different, especially since he was so insistent with his interest in getting to know me. I’d ignored the fact that he treated me as nothing better than a tool of jealousy between him and Cassandra. And I wouldn’t continue to let myself be used by a man that wouldn’t care if I was breathing as long as his ex-girlfriend could see him palming a handful of my ass.
The thought of Devon seeing me at Sean’s side in the ultra-sexy outfit Lindsey talked me into made me feel no better, especially when his hands were the ones I wanted on me. My stomach churned, and I studied the room. It was small and intimate in a way that suggested it was best used for hushed conversations between two old friends.
A large window overlooked an even larger pool with two club chairs positioned directly opposite of it. An ornate mirror hung on the east wall of the room and a decorative table sat just below it. My eyes caught a stack of leather-bound books placed purposefully on the table, the gold foil lettering flashing Reader’s Digest from across the room. I bit back a scoff. I knew what it was like to be dressed up on the outside when the inside didn’t seem good enough to match.
I studied my appearance thoughtfully in the mirror. I hadn’t quite managed to convince myself to take off the charcoal trench coat I wore that evening. It was buttoned all the way up my neck and cinched tightly around my waist, the knee length material eclipsing the fact that I was wearing anything at all underneath. If I were to take the coat off, I would be faced with the reality of a dress that just didn’t seem to quite fit me in the way I wanted it to.
The thin straps dug a little too deeply into
my shoulders. The plunging v at the front of the dress was so dramatic that I couldn’t wear a bra and instead prayed that the tiny silicone cups Lindsey dropped off gleefully would do their job. The bottom of the black peplum dress could’ve been okay, but the material ended just an inch or two above my knees, and from there to somewhere around mid-thigh, the dress was sheer lace. In true Charlie fashion, rather than rewarding myself any modicum of comfort, I allowed Lindsey to talk me into getting my legs waxed instead of wearing tights.
The door to my sanctuary was flung open unexpectedly. A giggling young woman fell into the room, slamming the door behind her. Her long strawberry blonde hair fell messily around her shoulders, and I felt severely overdressed when I noticed her lavender tunic and cream leggings. Her head turned wildly, her eyes wide.
She regarded me with confusion dancing in her eyes. “This isn’t the bathroom.”
I couldn’t stop the laugh that spilled from my lips as she pranced further into the room and collapsed into one of the leather chairs. “No,” I replied with a chuckle, “it isn’t at all.”
She sighed and stared at the pool in the distance. “I’m Brittany,” she said while turning to me with a smile. The glazed look in her eye and flush in her cheeks gave away just how drunk she was.
Standing over her felt awkward as she stared up at me with her slightly cocked head. The woman seemed friendly enough but something about her was familiar in an off-putting sort of way. “Charlie,” I responded simply as I dropped into the chair next to her.
A dramatic gasp caused my stomach to jump, and I turned expectantly toward the door. My heart thudded in my chest, and I cursed my nerves when I realized it was simply the strawberry-blonde next to me being drunk and dramatic and not some catastrophic event unfolding around me. Her hands flew to cover her mouth, and she began to giggle.
Breakaway: A Hockey Romance Page 14