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“Oh.” Mav shifts uncomfortably. “I’m calling a ride.” He holds up his phone with the rideshare app.
“Okay. Still, I’ll put this in a bag.” Our conversation is as awkward as trying to learn a new dance on stage, under the bright lights.
He’s leaving because it’s what I want. Only I’m not so sure.
We walk to my front door, and he turns to face me, setting his bags on the floor and shoving his hands in his pockets.
He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out and I break. I don’t want him to leave. Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m flying at him and he catches me with an arm around my back and the other under my ass. My legs link behind his waist, and I bury my face in the crook of his shoulder.
He rocks and brings a hand up to massage my neck.
“It can’t be like before,” I sob pitifully, determined to hold some ground.
“I promise, Angel, it won’t be.” He carries me into the dance studio, and my old nickname clouds my head, sounding so natural and right. “Do you have a couch?” he asks, spinning in a slow circle.
“Living rooms are so mid.” I wipe my tears on his shirt. “I don’t invite people over, but there’s a love seat in the pantry.” Unhooking my legs, I slide down his body and take his hand. My reading nook is the old pantry, since I don’t need it for food, so I converted it.
On one side, the shelves are lined with books, the tiny couch sits below a window in the rear, and I strung fairy lights around the crown molding at the ceiling. The other wall has textured wallpaper where the shelves have been replaced. The room is a warm hug.
“This is amazing.” Mav runs his hands over the soft wall.
“It’s my favorite room. Totally comfortable but low on function.” I gasp when he picks me up and settles me on his lap so my back leans against the arm of the sofa.
“I’d say the potential for fuc…function is unlimited.” He nuzzles my neck and inhales.
“Mind always in the gutter.” I curl into him, giving myself this luxury, even if it ends badly.
“I’m a hockey player; it’s our default. Naked and rude.”
I laugh but wish the hard conversations were already behind us. But pretending everything is fine is what broke us apart in the first place. It’s hard to find the right words when he’s so warm and smells like my soap.
“I want to date you,” Mav says into my ear as he holds me tight. “No sneaking around, go on a date with me out in public. You choose.” When I’m silent for too long, he says, “I won’t push to start where we left off.”
Everything in me screams yes, fucking date me, be proud of me, tell the world about us. But I made decisions that could hurt his reputation.
“I want to say yes.” I sigh, and his lips graze my hair. “But there are lots of reasons we’re a long shot. One of which is my job. I don’t want my website career to tarnish your image.”
Mav laughs so hard that he can’t speak. I don’t think it’s the least bit funny.
“Tarnish my image?” he asks, still laughing. “Am I a Victorian debutante or a stuffy rich bitch?”
“Both.” I nip his pec and he groans.
“You can’t expect me to control myself when you do that.”
“Oh, you like it?” I ask, remembering how sensitive his chest is. Although I didn’t plan on instigating anything, I’m not sad about it.
“Don’t change the subject. I’m serious. I’m asking to spend time with you, and you shut me down because my illustrious image as a”—he tips his head up to look me in the eye—“goddamn hockey player might be ruined.” Hurt clouds his hazel eyes and rings in his voice.
“Your career means everything to you, and some people are rude and judgmental. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I brought you bad publicity.” He’s never had to put up with people talking to his face in such a way that makes him invisible and saying vile things. I love my job, but it still takes a toll.
“Publicity is Finn’s job, and I don’t care. Our team has had so many scandals that Finn will barely break a sweat.” Mav reads my face and says, “He’s our PR director.”
“I highly doubt that. The poor man is probably a closet alcoholic from dealing with you guys and your scandals.” Not that I scoured all relevant postings of the team and got an eyeful after Mav got called up to the Enforcers. I’d fire myself to get away from them if I were their PR director.
“What’s the real reason?”
That you’ll break my heart again, and I won’t survive it a second time. “What do you say to getting to know each other again, just the two of us? We’ll take it slow before going public.” This protects both of us because if we fall apart again, we don’t need it to be in the public eye.
