“What do you think about making this official? Us, I mean?”
Her eyes convey her surprise and her pouty pink lips part. “Like, you want us to be a real couple?”
I nod. I want it more than any-fucking-thing. So much so that for the last few days all I’ve thought of is Grace and hockey hasn’t crossed my mind. That never happens. Hockey has always been my sole focus, but not anymore.
She doesn’t say anything and that worries me. I start to take it back, to tell her to forget about it, when she gasps the softest, most perfect, “Yes.”
I breathe out an embarrassingly loud sigh of relief and take her face between my hands, kissing her. She smiles against my lips and lets out a quiet laugh.
“Are you sure about this?” she asks. “I know you don’t date.”
“I didn’t, but you … changed things. It’s been killing me being this close to you and having to realize it was all fake.”
“That was your idea,” she reminds me. “For me to be your fake girlfriend,” she adds like I didn’t already know what she meant.
“I know, sweetheart, I fucking know.” I press my forehead to hers, my hand winding around the back of her neck.
“By the way,” she says with a smile, “it’s worked.”
“What has?” I ask, confused.
“You using me as your fake girlfriend,” she whispers. “Look what Elle just sent me.”
She holds out her phone to me with a picture Elle snapped of the inside of a magazine. The headline reads: Meet Hockey’s New ‘It’ Couple. There are photos of Grace and I on campus, the one of our kiss at the game, and even one of me standing outside her dorm with coffee and cupcakes. The photo is out too far for me to read what it says, but from the headline, I’d say it’s pretty positive.
I smile. “Thanks for saving my reputation.” I draw her close and kiss her forehead.
She smiles. “And now it’s real?”
“It’s real.”
“I like Bennett,” my mom says, shuffling clothes around on a rack.
When she asked me to go shopping, I knew she had an ulterior motive for getting me out of the house.
“I do too, obviously,” I say, picking up a dress from the rack and holding it up to my body.
“That would be cute on you.” My mom nods to the cobalt blue dress I hold.
“I need to get a dress for the New Year’s Eve party,” I tell her. “I don’t think this is fancy enough.”
Everyone goes all out for the annual Wentworth New Year’s Eve bash and the dress I hold looks more appropriate for a winter formal.
“You’re probably right,” my mom says. “I need to get a dress too.” She makes a face of disgust. I definitely didn’t get my love of fashion from her. She’s a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl while I usually wear a dress or skirt. Although, on campus I’ve been wearing jeans more often thanks to the frigid temperatures.
I move to another rack and flick through the dresses. The standard red and green colors make me want to pull out my eyeballs.
“Bennett seems really into you,” she comments, getting back to what she really wants to talk to me about.
“He better be. I mean, we’ve only been dating for six months.” Or, you know, a week.
“He hasn’t always been a one-woman man,” she tells me like I don’t already know.
“I know, Mom,” I say. “Things are different with me.”
She looks unsure. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt, Grace. This is your first real relationship and he’s known to get around. Just … be careful, okay?” she pleads.
“I am,” I promise her.
She nods but I doubt this is the last I’ll hear about this. She’s a mom, so she worries twenty-four-seven.
“How about this dress?” She holds up a purple sequined number.
“For me?” I ask, and she nods. “I don’t look good in purple.”
She laughs and puts the dress back on the rack. “What about this one for me?” She holds up a strapless navy dress with silver detailing.
“I think that would be gorgeous on you,” I tell her honestly. My mom is still young and can pull off anything she wants.
She drapes the dress over her arm. “I’m going to try it on.”
“I’m going to keep looking for a dress for myself,” I tell her. “Just holler for me when you’re changed.”
She nods and heads over to the dressing room a few feet away.
I pick up a gold and teal dress and look it over. It’s nice, but still not the one. I put it back on the rack and keep looking. Thankfully, the store is full of dresses, so if I keep looking, I’m bound to find something eventually.
A few minutes later, my mom calls me over to check out the dress she chose.
She steps out of the dressing room with a wondering smile. “What do you think?”
I smile widely. “You look hot, Mom.”
She rolls her eyes. “Oh, Grace.”
“I’m serious.” I laugh. “It looks great. You’ll need a pair of heels, though.”
At the word heels she looks I’ve just handed her a death sentence. “So you think I should get this one?” She turns, appraising herself in the mirror.
I nod. “As long as you like the way it looks and feels, go for it. It’s a great dress.”
She nods at her reflection and smiles. “Yeah, I think I’m going to get it.”
She heads back into the dressing room to change back into her clothes, so I return to searching for my dress.
By the time she comes out, I think I’ve found it. “I’m going to try this one on,” I tell her. “Wait for me.”
I change into the dress quickly and step out of the room for my mom to see.
“Oh, Grace,” she gasps. “You look beautiful.”
I turn to look at my reflection in the full-length mirror. The skirt on the dress is long and fitted down my hips and thighs. It’s done in gold and pink tone sequins while the top is white with short sleeves. It’s simple but elegant, and totally me.
“I want this one,” I say, fighting a smile. I love the way I look in the dress, but I really can’t wait to see what Bennett thinks of me in it.
“Okay,” she chimes. “Change and we’ll checkout. Then how about we get some lunch? I’m starving.”
“Sounds good. Do you mind if I invite Willow?” I ask, referring to my friend and brother’s girlfriend. “I haven’t had a chance to see her since I’ve been back.”
“Yeah, of course. That’ll be fun.”
I lock myself in the dressing room and change back into my navy skirt and white top and coat. My mom’s waiting for me outside the changing room and she takes the dress from me so she can go checkout. While she does that, I send a text to Willow and browse the shoes and jewelry.
My phone vibrates in my hand with a text from Willow saying she’ll meet us there.
My mom finds me, bag in her hand, and we head out to the car and to the restaurant.
We beat Willow there so we sit in the car to wait for her. She pulls up ten minutes later in her SUV and runs over to the car. I get out and she shrieks in excitement before squeezing me tight. Willow and I went through a rough patch a few months ago, nothing serious but our friendship needed some TLC, and now we’re back on track.
“I’ve missed you.” She smiles widely at me. Willow has the kind of smile that takes over her whole face, and it’s infectious so I find myself smiling in response. Her blond hair is a wild mess of curls, like she forgot to brush it this morning, and her cheeks are flushed with happiness. Willow’s one of those people who’s almost always happy. The minute she’s not smiling or bouncing off the wall, you know something is seriously wrong.
“I’ve missed you too.” I let her go and we just stare at each other for a moment, taking in the small changes that have happened while we were apart. I notice her hair’s gotten a little darker and she’s cut it shorter so it now brushes her shoulders.
“How’s college treating you?” sh
e asks as we walk up the steps into the restaurant.
“Good,” I answer. “I took way too many classes.” I laugh. “But I like it.”
She makes a face. “That makes one of us.”
Willow should’ve been in her second year at NYU but over the summer she decided college wasn’t for her. At, least not right now. Maybe one day she’ll go back, or maybe not, and that’s okay. I know Willow enough to know she’s not going to sit on her ass and do nothing with her life.
“What have you been up to?” I ask her.
“Working on my blog,” she answers. “I’ve been talking to Liam a lot and he’s teaching me the basics of photography,” she says, referring to her cousin who lives all the way on the coast of California. I haven’t seen him in a few years but he’s a professional surfer now.
“That’s cool.” I bump my shoulder with hers playfully as we follow my mom inside the restaurant. Someone immediately appears to take us to our seats.
“I haven’t been here since your graduation dinner,” Willow tells me, looking around with a wistful smile.
“Me either. Is Liam coming home for Christmas this year?” I ask her as we take our seats. I pick up the menu from the table and look it over.
“I think so,” she says. “Mathias and Remy said they’d skin him alive if he didn’t.” She laughs.
“He has a girlfriend now, right?” I ask, trying to remember things she’s told me over the last few months.
“Yeah. She’s nice, but …”
“But what?” I ask.
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “She dragged him into a whole heap of trouble. It wasn’t pretty.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.
“What rock do you live under?” she asks. “It was all over the news.”
“I’ve been busy,” I reason.
“True,” she agrees. “Well, that’s his story to tell, not mine.” She waves her hand dismissively. “Now, let’s eat.”
“I missed you.” Bennett climbs into bed behind me and wraps his arms around me. I know I should kick him out, like I should’ve done every other night since we made this official, but I can never bring myself to do it. I like these stolen moments with him too much to give it up.
I roll over and kiss him, tangling my legs in his. “What’d you do today?”
“Played hockey.”
“Really?” I ask surprised.
He nods. “Drove down to D.C. and hung out with the team there. I have a few friends there.”
I rub the facial hair on his cheeks. “Do you think they might take you after your contract ends?”
He shrugs. “I talked to the coach some but I won’t get my hopes up.”
I frown. “I hate that you’re not allowed to play with your team. I know you miss it.”
He sighs. “I really fucking do, but I’m fighting an uphill battle with Matthews.”
“Have you talked to that player? The one you saw him give steroids to?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“I think you should.” I trace my fingers over his lip. “Look at the way Matthews is basically blackmailing you. You don’t know what’s really going on there. There might be more to the story than that guy being your coach’s puppet.”
He nods. “You might be right.”
“We have a rink here in town—no fancy arena, that’s for sure—but I want you to teach me how to skate.”
His lips tip up. “Princess doesn’t know how to ice skate?”
I shake my head. “I was more into dancing on dry land.”
He chuckles and kisses the end of my nose. “Let’s go tomorrow.”
I nod and snuggle closer to him. “Just don’t let me fall on my ass.”
His chuckle rumbles against my ear. “No promises, sweetheart.”
Grace falls on her ass after approximately five seconds on the ice. I bust out laughing instead of helping her up.
“You’re such an asshole!” she curses me, trying to get up on her own, which results in her legs kicking wildly. Thankfully, we’re the only ones on the ice. “Help me up, dickwad!”
I hold my hand out to her. “You’re so nice to me.”
“Yeah, well, you promised not to let me fall.”
“Actually, sweetheart,” I say sickeningly sweet, “I said no promises.”
“Ugh, I hate you.” She glares at me—and if looks could kill, I’d be dead. She holds onto my arm so tight that I’m afraid she’s going to cut off the blood circulation.
“You know, for this to be classified as ice skating, we actually have to move.”
“I’m not ready!” she cries, terrified I’m about to send her flying across the ice.
“Calm down, Princess. We’ll take baby steps.”
“Don’t let me fall,” she whimpers.
“Babe, you already did that, and chances are, you’re going to do it again. It happens.”
She gives me a mean look like she wishes a hole would open beneath me and eat me alive.
She takes a deep breath as we take a tentative step across the ice.
She lets out a small scream as we glide and tightens her hold on my arm.
“Grace, you’re going to have to let go of me.”
“No,” she cries.
“Hold onto my hand,” I plead. “I can’t move when you’re holding onto me like a goddamn spider monkey.”
She slowly releases her vice-like grip on my arm and entwines our fingers together. She shrieks as her legs wobble.
“I thought this would be easy,” she mumbles.
I laugh. “Most people think that, but it takes some getting used to. You can do it.”
“Not if I die first,” she mutters, looking down at her feet.
“You’re not going to die.” I shake my head at her. I find her reaction amusing. She normally always has this take charge attitude like she can do anything. It’s funny to see her losing her shit. “Come here, give me your other hand,” I plead.
“You want me to swing around in front of you?” She gasps.
“Yes.” I chuckle.
She whimpers, actually whimpers. I think it’s cute but she’d be pissed if I said that.
She works herself up and pushes off with her feet to glide around in front of me, but of course, she fucking stumbles and starts to fall onto the ice again. I pull her up before she can fall and she smacks into my chest. I hold on tightly to her, balancing my weight so we don’t fall.
“You’re good at this,” she gasps, and she actually sounds fucking surprised.
I laugh. “I have been doing this for years, sweetheart. Practically since I could walk. It’s like a way of life in Boston. You learn to walk and then you learn to skate.”
She shakes her head and holds onto my shoulders as I move us across the ice.
“Hey, this actually isn’t so bad.” She smiles up at me.
I laugh. “Well, it doesn’t really count as you skating since I’m doing all the work.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Thanks for bursting my bubble.”
“Anytime.” I kiss the end of her nose, and since I’m not paying any attention, we ram into the wall.
I lose my balance and fall to the ground with her on top of me.
Grace presses her lips together but can’t contain her laughter. I laugh too and it feels so fucking good to be this carefree with someone. With Grace, I don’t give a fuck about what I say or do, because I know she accepts me for me and vice versa. She’s just so fucking perfect for me.
I tuck her hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering on her cheek. “I love you,” I whisper.
I don’t know why the fuck words leave my mouth, but I can’t take it back, because it’s true.
She makes the tiniest gasp and she looks at me with wonder and happiness and a million other things I can’t even begin to understand.
The silence stretches between us and I worry that maybe I’ve scared her but then she smiles and kisses me. “I love you too,” she murmurs be
tween our pressed lips.
I and love and you have officially become my favorite words in the English language. I know that makes me sound like a lovesick sappy fool, but when you’ve never been in love and you finally find someone that makes you feel like a better version of yourself, the rest doesn’t matter to you.
I take her face in my hands and kiss her deeply. My tongue slides into her mouth and she makes a soft sighing sound as her fingers tighten around my shirt. The ice is cold beneath me but I don’t give a fuck. Nothing could make me move from this spot short of the zombie apocalypse, because zombies equal get the hell out of here.
Grace pulls back and looks down at me like she’s truly seeing me for the first time. “I never thought things would end up like this,” she admits, touching my cheek. “But I’m glad they did.”
“Me too, sweetheart.”
When I first asked Grace to be my fake girlfriend, that’s all I wanted from her—to use her, and that fact makes me feel slightly sick, but I can’t regret it, not when that led me to getting to know her and having her in my life.
We finally disentangle our bodies and I stand up, holding my hands out to her to help her up.
“I seriously didn’t realize how much skill you have to possess to ice skate,” she comments as we glide down the ice—well, I skate and she holds onto me.
I laugh. “And play a game on the ice,” I remind her.
“Right,” she groans. “Well, all I’m trying to say is you’re pretty amazing.”
“Aw,” I laugh. “Was that a compliment?”
She glares at me. “You wish.”
My laughter grows. “Really, because it sounded a whole lot like a compliment.”
“I can’t say anything nice to you, can I?” She sighs.
“Nope, sorry, sweetheart.”
“Whoa,” she cries when her feet skid a bit. “I think I’ve had enough of ice skating for the day.”
I chuckle. “Are you sure?”
“Yes!” she screams when she starts to fall.
I hold her around the waist and skate over to the exit. I lift her onto the ground and then smack her ass. She stumbles onto the bench and turns to glare at me with fiery green eyes.
The Game That Breaks Us Page 21