Page 19

I shift my gaze toward the door, toward the hundreds of people that could walk in at any moment as I slowly unzip her dress. It falls to the floor, revealing her black bra and panties, and her decent but not magnificent tits and perky ass. I get what Ezra sees in her. She is a cute girl.

I pick her up, and she wraps her legs around me; I find the cleanest place in the bathroom to lean her against, unzip my pants, throw a rubber on, and try to be quick about it knowing I’m making another terrible fucking decision.

Chapter Seven

Two days have passed since the gala, and Olivia seems to have gotten the hint. She stays at the house with Maison but ignores me and I’ve locked my door every night just in case. Which also means I have a lot of pent-up energy, since Naomi still has a curfew and she’s not allowed over here when she’s with her dad, so I haven’t fucked her again either.

Olivia was easy. She relieved a lot of that for me; I hadn’t realized how much. I never should have agreed to date Naomi. I don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with her either. Luckily, the hockey pre-season will hit soon, and training will be in overdrive. I can’t see how Maison can keep things up with Olivia. Hopefully, she will disappear and go back to Fitzgerald.

Wishful thinking. Olivia is not the type of girl who will back down. She’s cunning, manipulative beyond belief. She trapped Maison and me on night number one. I doubt she will just keep her mouth shut. I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop with her. While I’m stressing out, she’s sitting pretty, biding her fucking time. If she accuses me publicly of sexual harassment, it would be over for me. Everyone would believe her. The court of public opinion rarely sides with the accused. And really … I’m guilty as fuck. The local news would have a field day, and my parents would probably disown me for staining our family name.

Fuck.

I can never do that again. I will never have sex with a girl unless she knows 100 percent it’s me she’s fucking or without her explicit consent. This was not worth it, and I thought maybe it would be easier to give her what she wants. Still … I can’t be with her just because she’s blackmailing me.

It’s past ten when I get my gear off, shower, and head out to the empty parking lot of the arena. I stayed at least two hours after the rest of the team left, working on my shot. I think I sliced the puck five hundred times, replaying Olivia’s threats in my mind, and regretting screwing Naomi like that when I’m in such a shit headspace. I defiled that girl, and she loved every second.

As I step outside the arena, the warm summer air wraps around me. A thin veil of clouds covers the moon and stars. New Ocean Arena is poorly lit with only one light at the entrance. So, I step carefully toward my car in the empty parking lot just as bright lights shine right in my face. I jump back and squint, dropping my hockey bag.

It’s fucking Olivia. I recognize her beat-down Honda Civic. What is she doing here so late? And where is Maison? He practically jumped out of his skates earlier to meet her. I step toward her knowing I shouldn’t get in her car, but the little twinge of adrenaline I always feel with her tingles my skin. I can’t tell what she’s doing because her high beams are blazing right in my eyes.

My car is parked a few feet away, so I walk toward it to drop off my bag. Olivia makes no motions, nothing. She just sits in some weird trance waiting for me. I should get in my car and leave and not get in the car with her. But I know I will.

When I slide in her passenger door, our eyes meet. Something is wrong. She’s slumped over, with streaks of mascara running down her face. I swallow a lump in my throat at seeing her like this. Not composed and put together like she usually is.

She’s crying.

I fucking hate seeing girls cry. She looks defeated, broken, and out of her damn mind. This chick is anything but sober. Her body sways while she chokes on her breath from crying so hard. Her head turns toward me as I gently touch her bare leg.

Damn, even when she’s broken, she still looks amazing in her summer dress.

“Olivia,” I say cautiously, “give me your keys; you shouldn’t be driving. How much have you had to drink?”

She smirks and pulls the car into gear.

“Olivia, stop.”

She does the opposite. She laughs at me and whips the car in reverse.

Fuck, goddamn it.

I lean over and try to pull the keys out, but she’s already in motion. She puts the gear in forward and whips onto the street. I lean in and grab the wheel to keep it steady and pull on my seat belt. “Olivia, pull fucking over. Don’t do this okay. I’ll stay with you; we can keep sneaking around. We don’t have to stop being together, but please stop, you’re going to get us killed.”

I don’t mean any of what I just said. I can never have sex with this girl again. We underestimated the extent of how messed up she is. I should have known something was up when Fitzgerald broke up with her. Why else would he break up with the hottest girl I’ve ever seen?

My voice doesn’t seem to land with her. She jerks the car all over the road. This back road goes on for miles, just darkness and trees along the rocky shores. We may end up in the trees or at the cliff’s edge if she continues driving like this.

I grab the wheel again. “Let me steer, at least.”

“Calm down, Micah,” she says as she accelerates the gas. “I’m just driving to Waverly Point. I just want us to talk for a few minutes.”

Talk? She wants to talk? About fucking what?

Waverly Point is a two-minute drive from the busy highway and offers an ocean and lighthouse view. It’s also popular for teen make-out sessions. Typical small-town shit. As soon as we get there, I’m prying the keys away from her. She slows the car and pulls into the spot, pulls the keys out of the ignition and looks at me.

“What happened, Olivia?” I ask her.

She takes a shallow breath. “I broke up with Maison. I want to be with you, Micah.”