by Toni Aleo
She shrugs, but that little smirk doesn’t leave her full lips. “I think you should call him.”
“No, I’m not calling him. I don’t want to see him.”
“Yous a damn lie.”
“I don’t,” I say more sternly. “He probably won’t want to see me either.”
“There it is,” she says, pointing at me and leaning on the counter. “For such a strong, beautiful woman, you sure are insecure as fuck when it comes to guys. It’s the main reason you took Mike’s bullshit for so long. You know you’re better than this, right?”
I shake my head. “Whatever. I’m not insecure.”
“Aviva, why did you let him see you the way you did?”
I gawk at her, confused. “’Cause he grabbed the boob. I didn’t want him to yank it off. That would have been something. I would have been mortified.”
She snorts, shaking her head. “That would have been the best story, though.”
“Focus,” I say dryly, and she nods.
“Yes, anyway…while I can understand that excuse, I know it’s just an excuse. You told him because you trust him, because for once, you felt good. And you felt confident about someone.”
I blink. “No way.”
“Yes way. You were fucking Mike for how long? Fifteen years?”
“Why is Mike coming into this?”
“Oh no! They scored again! Look at him, Aviva! He is so bummed!” Callie yells, and both Jaylin and I look at the screen.
Aw. He does.
“He’s a man. He’s fine,” I say offhandedly. My comment is not well received by Callie or Jaylin.
“You’re a jerk.”
“Why are you so mean?”
“What? I’m keeping it 100,” I say, mocking Jaylin. She just laughs, though. “Back to Mike, please?”
She holds out her glass to me. “After your surgery, Mike never saw your chest. Never. Am I right?”
I really don’t know why I chose her to be soul friends with. I look down into my glass, moving my fingers along the rim. “Yes,” I mumble.
“And that was, what, after five years of knowing him before you had the surgery?”
“Yeah, so?”
“You’ve known this guy for like a month, and you showed him.”
I press my lips together, my heart beating funny in my chest. “Doesn’t mean anything.”
“Oh, sis. It screams volumes, and you know it.”
I swallow hard as I shrug one shoulder. “He’s kind.”
“Yup.”
“And sweet.”
“Yeah, his eyes were trained on you like you were a puck.”
“Crap, they scored again!”
She jerks a thumb behind her. “Not tonight, though. Tonight, he apparently sucks.”
We both look over at the screen as the announcer says, “I have never seen Merryweather let in this many pucks in a ten-minute span. He looks lost. He looks like he’s not even in the game. I fully expect them to pull him.”
Callie looks back at me, her eyes wide. “No! That will hurt his feelings.”
“It’s a game, sweetie. He’s really strong,” Jaylin says then, waving her off. “But I think he’s good. Look at him. He’s pissed. He’ll bounce back.”
Callie seems to agree with that as she sits back on her heels. She’s newly obsessed with hockey, and if I’m honest, I may be as well. It’s mainly the thing I have for the goalie.
Jaylin looks back at me, her eyes critical. “For the first time in, shit, I don’t know, nine years, I actually saw excitement in your eyes.” She leans over, taking my hand in hers. “You had this smile on your face that warmed me from the inside out, Vee. I mean, it was beautiful. When you kissed him, I watched your whole body do it—”
“You sound like a stalker,” I comment, but she doesn’t care. She’s going to tell me what I don’t want to hear. What I already know.
That Nico means something to me.
“He makes you feel alive. And damn it, Aviva, I need that for you. I need you to live. If he has a way to make you want to live, then damn it, I’m Team Nico. All the way.”
“You’re supposed to be Team Aviva,” I say softly.
“That’s a losing team right now. I’m a winner.” When our eyes meet, we both laugh. “You’re a winner too.” She laces our fingers together and squeezes. “I think he is wonderful, and you should call him.”
Before I can even comment, Callie screams as she shoots up off the couch. “No!”
“What? What’s wrong?” I ask, panicked. Did she hurt herself? Was she flipping off the couch again?
She throws out her hands toward the screen. “They scored again!”
Yup, they sure did. Beside the celebrated hug is Nico, his shoulders drooping as he stares at the bench. He looks like a statue, and then he nods. He smacks his stick to each side of the net and then skates toward the bench as another goalie comes on.
“Oh, they kicked him out!”
My heart aches as I watch him throw his stick down the hall and then his gloves. He kicks the door and then slams himself down. His helmet is still on, and when they hand him a hat, he throws it back at them.
“I have never seen this behavior out of Merryweather. It’s as if I don’t even know him,” the commentator rambles on.
“For sure. He needs to regroup and come back strong on Wednesday. We need him. This game is over,” the other jerk in a suit says.
When the camera pans off Nico, Callie turns, her eyes full of tears as she crosses her arms over her chest. Her face is red, and I think she’s upset. I mean, I could be wrong, but she doesn’t look pleased.
“You broke Nico.”
I’m taken aback. “What? Who?”
“You!” she yells, pointing at me. “I know you think you don’t deserve happiness, but you do. And so does he! He chose you, he likes you, so stop being an idiot and be nice to him!”
“Callie, be real.”
She stomps away. “We all know you like him. You broke our goalie! I hope you know, I’m telling everyone so they can come and tell you you’re an idiot.”
The door slams, and I look at Jaylin. The asshole is laughing. “Freaking hormonal teenagers.”
She shakes her head. “No, she’s keeping it 100 too.”
“Really? I didn’t break him. Be real.”
Just then, the camera focuses on Nico, and he looks so defeated. Even through his mask, I can see his dark eyes, and they are stewing with disappointment. He looks incredibly handsome but also murderous. It’s hot.
“Shit. Did I break him?”
Jaylin nods. “You are the reason we lost.”
I glare. “Whatever. But wait, am I about to have a whole fan base come for me?”
She shrugs. “I hope so. Maybe they’ll be able to talk some sense into you.”
I watch the screen for a second. I want to call him. I want to see him, but I can’t. I won’t allow some man to speak to me like that and then I just chase after him. If we need to see each other again, the universe will intervene. It has before, and it will again. Or we’ll go our separate ways.
With a grin, I say, “I wonder if they’ll want subs.”
“You’re such an asshole. You aren’t gonna call him, are you?”
I bring my glass to my lips. “Nope.”
No matter how much I want to.
Chapter Fifteen
Nico
“How are you feeling?”
I don’t even want to answer the woman who has been sent to fix me. There is no fixing me. I look down at my knees, watching them bounce. I can feel Dr. Jenkins’s eyes on me. Even though I have no desire to answer or even participate in this session, I know I have to. “Like shit.”
“Can you elaborate?”
I let out an annoyed sigh. I’m five seconds away from being a child and mocking her. “Can you elaborate?” No. Leave me alone.
“Well, I haven’t been pulled from a game in almost a year, and then I got pulled Monday. I let in three go
als Wednesday, and that fucking pisses me off.”
I still won’t look at her. I feel her staring at me. I know she wants more, but I just don’t have it in me. While I’ve been playing like complete shit the last couple days, that’s not what has me on edge. I’m pissed that I haven’t heard from Aviva. She hasn’t called, texted, or anything. I haven’t been to the shop because I’ve had games and practice, but still, she hasn’t made any attempt to see me. She ran out on me. She rejected me. And while I had been chasing her like crazy, I won’t now.
Well, at least, I won’t right now. I gotta calm down. I gotta figure out how I want to approach this. We went at it, and while I was pissed, I just wanted to kiss that angry little look on her face. I wanted to taste those lips, and damn it, I wanted to hold her. I wanted her to feel how much I enjoy spending time with her. Enjoy her. I really don’t understand. How could she think I wouldn’t want her? Fuck, if she doesn’t make me crazy.
“Do you feel off?”
I shrug. “Yeah, I’m not focused.”
“Why’s that?”
I shake my head and thank God for player confidentiality. “I’m caught up on a girl.”
“I didn’t know you were dating someone,” she says, her voice hinting at surprise.
Dating. Are we even dating? “I don’t know if we are. I want to date her.”
“Is she not returning the feelings?”
“She’s wishy-washy. One second, I think she does want to. But the next, this fucking brick wall comes up.” I shake my head, annoyed as I bring up her imaginary wall. “Like, fuck, I get that she’s been through some shit and all, but I’m not a bad guy. She’s making it seem like I fuck around a lot and don’t commit. I tried to commit. It blew up in my fucking face.”
Dr. Jenkins moves her pen against her notepad. “Did it really blow up in your face, or did you ignore the fact that Shelli didn’t want to commit to you?”
I hate therapy. I mean, come on, I don’t need this chick telling me the truth. Just lie to me. Smack a Band-Aid on me and tell me I’m good. I grind my teeth as I shrug. “Yeah, I ignored it.”
“Are you ignoring it here?”
Am I? Does Aviva not want to date me? Was it really just a fuck? But if so, then why did she share all that shit with me? Why did she comfort me? Hold me so tenderly when I was nervous about her thinking I was weird. It doesn’t make sense. Talk about some mixed signals. “I don’t think so.”
She gives me a small smile. Not just a kind one, but one full of sympathy. “With your diagnosis, Nico, you tend not to pick up on social cues. You see what you want. And it’s my job—”
“No, it’s different with her,” I insist, my voice getting louder. “It felt different. She talked to me about things she’s never told anyone.”
“Okay,” she says slowly. “But you have to remember, you feel differently from other people. You use sex as an outlet to feel things—”
“For fuck’s sake, stop with the handbook!” I roar, slamming back in the chair. “I’m not a bad fucking guy.”
“Nico, I never said you were.”
“She made me sound like a whore. I like sex. What’s wrong with that? I love women. But this one… This one is special. I want her.”
Her eyes meet mine, full of compassion. “But Nico, she might not want you, and that’s okay.”
I look away, my throat getting tight.
“Have you told her—”
“Fuck no.”
She pauses, and then I hear her writing something down.
Patient is a huge jackass.
I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I lashed out at her.”
“Why did you lash out?”
I squirm in my seat, embarrassed. “Because I felt abandoned. I have never had a girl leave like that. Usually I have to force them to leave. But I felt like Aviva was rejecting me. And now I think I’ve ruined it with her.”
“Have you spoken to her since that happened?”
“No,” I say softly. “I’ve kept my distance, and she’s kept hers.”
“And you associate that with your bad playing?”
I nod. “I’m not focused. I’m too busy replaying everything over and over again. I want to see her again, but this nagging feeling inside me says she doesn’t want to see me. Then, she is prideful as hell, so she’d rather cut off her arm than call me. I don’t know. I really like her. She’s spunky as all get-out and smart. Really strong, even though her confidence is shaken. So gorgeous and makes one hell of a sub.” I smile, though I still don’t look at her. “I miss her and her sister. I was helping her sister with math.”
When she doesn’t say anything, I glance up at her. Once I’m looking at her, she says, “I think that if you want to see her, talk to her, you need to. Or you’ll stay in this funk.”
I lick my lips as I look away. “What if she doesn’t want to see me?”
“Then you know,” she says softly. “But you need to see for yourself.”
I know I need to agree or disagree with her, but I’m in my head. I was such an ass to Aviva. How do I go in and ask what she wants? What if she doesn’t want what I want? And then…what do I even want? I want her. I understand my history and I know my track record, but I also know that the right woman could change everything. The one I want to work for. The one I want to see. The one I want to make happy. All of that points to Aviva. To Callie. I care for them both.
“Did you do your homework, Nico?”
Fuck me. “I didn’t.” I look up just in time to see the disappointment on her face. “But I was honest about what I liked and didn’t like with Aviva. She almost touched my helmet, and I stopped her.”
“Did you yell?”
I shake my head quickly. “No, I calmly asked her not to touch it.”
“That’s wonderful. Better than when you snatched it out of that girl’s hand and screamed at her.”
I nod. “Yeah, I don’t know why that girl slept with me.”
She smiles. “Why haven’t you told anyone?”
The thought of opening up that part of myself honestly freaks me out. “Same reason as before. I don’t want people to look at me differently.”
“The right people won’t.”
I swallow hard as I nod.
“You could tell Aviva.”
I scoff. “She’ll think it’s a line to get her to be with me.”
She doesn’t disagree. “I feel your best bet would be Chandler.”
I think that over for a moment. I could tell him, but just as I think that, the fear consumes me. I’ve been best friends with this guy for a long time. We share everything and he’s seen my neurotic ways, but can I tell him about that part of me?
I’m thinking of Aviva and Dr. Jenkins as I drive.
Since Aviva shared what she did with me, I feel sharing with her would be fair. But something holds me back. I fear she’ll think I’m using my condition to get her to like me. When, really, I’m terrified she’ll run the other way. As much as I want to tell Chandler, I don’t think I can. Not yet. He knows I’m phobic and anxious here and there, but he doesn’t know the full extent of it. I don’t want him to treat me any differently. I don’t want him to feel sorry for me. I don’t want things to change. I like how my life is now. I like that no one knows. It does worry me that when I have my episodes, people think I’m just a jackass instead of knowing the truth. That I’m suffering inside.
When my rental car signals a text, I hit accept, and then the system reads it aloud.
Hey. It’s Callie. I need your help with this stupid equations crap. Can you come by? Please. Pretty please with a cherry on top?
Oh shit. Thankfully, I come to a stop at a stoplight to text her back quickly that I’m on my way.
Me: Is Aviva there?
Callie: Of course she is.
Me: Does she know I’m coming?
Callie: Yup.
Me: Will I be walking into the lion’s den?
Callie: I can’t confir
m or deny that.
Little asshole.
Callie: One thing is for sure… She’s been jerk since you left. So, if you can fix that so my sister smiles again like she did Sunday morning, that would be great.
I don’t answer her. Instead, I drive off, heading toward the shop. I’d love to make Aviva smile again. I get giddy at the thought of making her laugh, but I don’t know how to do that and not feel for her. She isn’t the kind of woman I can be just friends with.
It’s all or nothing.
When I arrive at the shop, Callie is sitting outside with her head in her book. I pull my truck in, and when I shut it off, she looks up. Relief fills her features as I get out, shutting the door and locking it. I peek into the shop just in time to see Aviva look away. And just like every single time I see her, she’s beautiful. She has her hair up in a high bun, her bangs getting in her eyes. She moves around like she’s working, but there isn’t a soul in there.
“I hate this crap.”
Callie’s words pull my attention, and I chuckle. As I sit down beside her, reaching for her book, I ask, “Didn’t I tell you, you gotta try to like it?”
“I don’t like numbers. I have a calculator and Google. I don’t need this.”
I roll my eyes. “What if you don’t have your phone?”
She gives me a terrified look. “Why wouldn’t I have my phone?”
I shake my head. I pray for this generation. But truthfully, my phone is attached to me. That’s how I know Aviva hasn’t called or texted me. I don’t answer Callie as I look over what she is doing. “Oh, derivative concepts? Easy peasy!”
I glance over at her to find her staring back at me like I’ve lost it. “Easy peasy? What is wrong with you? This crap is so hard!”
“It’s fun,” I say excitedly. “Pay attention.”
For the next forty minutes, I make solid progress with her homework and her study guide. It doesn’t take long for her to catch on. I love this kind of math. While angles are my jam, I love watching numbers work. It stimulates me. When she gets through the backside of her homework, I hold up my hand.
“Attagirl.”
She smacks my hand, and the look of confidence on her face fills my happiness cup. I love helping her. I love helping anyone with math. “You should volunteer and help kids with this. It would really be great for kids like me who have no clue what is going on.”