“You’ve got this.”
It’s mid-afternoon and the coffee shop is packed with students grabbing caffeine to get through the rest of the day. Nadia and I managed to snag a small table in the corner. I’d brought her with me for support, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to bail.
“It’s too soon.”
“No,” she says, taking a sip of her mocha, “it’s the perfect time. It’s why there are all those sayings like, ‘If you fall off a horse get back on,’ or my personal favorite, ‘the best way to get over someone is to get under someone new.’”
“I want to ask Logan to the fundraiser,” I say, wiping the condensation off the side of my ice coffee, “not get under him.”
“Not yet.” She winks.
This is the fundamental difference between me and Nadia. She’s already moved on from the situation with CJ, like it never happened. In fact, when I got home last night from practice, she was already at a party with some guy from the baseball team.
“I’m just not sure it’s a good idea.” Across the café, Logan steps in, hair disheveled and cheeks red from the wind. He looks around, eyes brightening when he sees me. He waves, gesturing that he’s going to get in line. I nod back. “Reese and I are definitely over, but I’m not sure I’m ready to get involved with anyone else.”
“You’re inviting him to a school-sanctioned event. It’s not a commitment of any kind. You need a date and he’s a nice guy who will look hot in a suit and make you look good to your boss. He checks all the boxes.” She stands, grabbing her coffee. “Don’t let your breakup with Reese send you into another two-year hibernation.”
She’s right. I agreed to fake date Reese in the first place so I could actually have a social life and get the courage to meet guys and go on dates. The last thing I want is to go back to being invisible. If one thing can come from this disaster, it would be for me to use the skills he taught me.
“Go get him,” she says, slipping out the back door.
Thankfully, before I can talk myself into following her, Logan walks up. “Hey,” he says, pulling out the chair. He shrugs out of a charcoal gray coat and hangs it on the back. “Sorry I was late, some guy in my Econ class wouldn’t stop asking questions.”
“Let me guess, second career?”
“Yes!” He shakes his head. “How did you know?”
“It’s just something I’ve noticed.” I watch Logan dump a packet of sugar into his coffee. “Older students—the ones that are paying for their own classes–definitely seem to want to get their money’s worth.”
“Same. I get it, but sometimes I just want to leave class early,” he grins, “and hang out with this cool chick I know.”
“Well,” I say, hoping my cheeks aren’t too red, “Nadia and I needed to go over some stuff for our history of rock class anyway.”
“Oh, you got in that class?” He settles back in his chair. “I’ve heard it’s really interesting.”
“I’ve enjoyed it, but so far no New Kings.” I smile. “Guess they’re too contemporary.”
“Have you ever heard their cover of Elvis’ Suspicious Minds?” he asks. “It’s epic.”
“Oh my god, yes, it’s so good.”
Logan is easy to talk to—at least about our favorite band. It’s not a hardship. I can fangirl about them for hours. I feel the tension of the week loosening as we discuss our favorite songs and the playlists for the concert. “I still can’t believe I didn’t get tickets.”
His cup hovers in front of his mouth. “Have you tried the resellers?”
“Yeah, way out of my price range.”
“I wish we’d known one another when they went on sale. I totally would’ve bought you one.” He sets his cup back on the table. “And to be honest, I’d definitely rather go with you than my roommate Trent.”
His comment is easy enough–transparent enough that I finally blurt, “I have a confession.”
“Oh yeah?” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. “What have you done, Twyler Perkins?”
“I may have invited you to coffee for ulterior motives.”
“Now I’m definitely intrigued.”
“That may just be my way of tricking you into thinking what I’m about to ask you is interesting.” I take a deep breath. “I have this fundraising event—an athletic alumni thing—this weekend. I have to go as part of my internship, but I can bring a… guest. I wondered if you’d be interested in going.”
Clutching his cup between his hands, he asks, “What about the hockey player? Is he going to be there?”
“Yes,” I say, not sure I’m following. “All athletes involved in varsity sports are required to attend.”
“He just made it pretty clear at the animal shelter that he was into you.” Right, the marking his territory thing. “I like you, Twyler, and I’d really like to spend more time with you, but I don’t want to have some six-foot-two hockey player on my ass.”
Six-foot-four.
“Oh no,” I say quickly. “That is not a thing. I promise. We’re just friends. Not even that.”
A small smile lifts his lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say, trying my hardest to feel it in my bones. To will it to be true. Logan is great. He’s the right kind of guy for me. He’s my type, not off-limits, and definitely not a distraction. “What do you think? Free food? Limited drinks? Weird old guys reliving their glory days?”
“Well, when you put it like that…” he says, tilting his head in consideration, “…sure, I’m in.”
I grin, feeling a mix of pride for pulling it off and nerves, wondering if I’m doing the right thing. It’s one thing to try to move on, it’s a whole other to attempt to do it in front of the man you’re trying to get over.
The knock on the door comes just as I’ve pulled my dress over my head. My hair is done. Makeup, as Nadia calls it, on point. The lace-up back of my dress needs tying, but I leave it, rushing out of my room to open the door for Logan.
Except it’s not. Logan, that is.
Reese stands on my front porch, looking like a fucking GQ model, in a dark gray suit and tie that match his eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, completely rattled. Have I lost my mind? Did our wires get crossed? No. Hell no. He never asked me to go with him and even if he did, I wouldn’t–couldn’t have–said yes.
While my brain is having a seizure, his gaze sweeps down my body, taking in the red formal dress I’m wearing. The knot in the back of his jaw pulses and he swallows, so slow, that for a second, I think he may choke.
“Reese,” I repeat, “what are you—” My eyes dart behind him. “Logan!”
Reese recovers and grins, turning to my date. “Hey, man, how are you?”
“I’m… good.” Reese offers his fist, and although Logan looks at it warily, he bumps it, as though it would violate some bro code not to. Questioningly, he looks to me.
“I don’t know what he’s doing here,” I say, quickly. “I promise.”
“Me?” Reese asks innocently. “Oh, I’m just picking up my date.” He peers over my head. “There she is.”
Behind me, Nadia strolls out of her room in a skin-tight, black dress. The front plunges into a deep V-neck, revealing more cleavage than I could ever muster. She rests one hand against the doorjamb, while easing her foot into a five-inch heel. “Hey, Reese. Hey, Logan.” She takes them in. “You guys look great.”
“So do you,” Reese says, giving her a wink.
Something in my brain breaks. “You’re here for Nadia.”
“Yep.” Something mischievous twinkles in his eye. “I asked her to be my date for the fundraiser.”
“You…” I take a deep breath. “Logan, can you excuse us for a minute?” I don’t wait for him to respond, grabbing Reese’s arm and dragging him inside. “Be right back.” I grin apologetically at my date before shutting the door in his face.
“Okay, what the hell is going on?” I spin, hands on my hips, looking between them.
“I needed a date,” he shrugs, “and Nadia needed to prove to CJ and Brent that she’s okay. So, it seemed mutually beneficial.”
Ah, another deal. “Nad, is that true?”
She looks at Reese and then back at me. “Pretty much. The last thing I want is for those two to think they ruined me.” She grabs the bodice of her dress and lifts her tits up higher. “Fuck them.”
I look at Reese and he’s the picture of innocence. I’ve spent the week avoiding him–making sure that I was completely focused on practice and my work with the team. It’d been a challenge for sure, and more than once I’m pretty sure I caught him staring at me. But seeing him now, how he makes my chest close up–I know I made the right decision. I mean, I’ve barely even spoken to my date. Reese is too consuming.
“Whatever,” I say, turning to head back to my room. “Let me get my shoes.”
I grab them off the floor and when I come back out, Nadia’s on the porch with Logan. Reese is still in the living room. “Hey,” he says, pointing to my back. “You forgot the back.”
“Shit,” I mutter, reaching around and feeling the strings. “Let me get Nadia.”
“I can do it.”
The back of my dress is designed like a corset, with a crisscross of straps that ties down at my lower back. I start to tell him no, but I can’t do it by myself.
“Sure, okay.” I turn, exposing my back to him. He lifts my hair and drapes it over my shoulder. Goosebumps run down my arms.
“Jesus,” he mutters, “this looks like witchcraft.”
I laugh, happy for a break in the tension. “It’s kind of like lacing a skate–just make sure it’s tight.”
“Hm,” he hums, tackling the laces. “So, Logan, huh?”
“Like you, I needed a date.” His touch is so gentle—precise—and a shiver builds in my spine thinking of the times those hands made me feel so good. “I figured why let all those confidence lessons go to waste.”
Row by row, I feel Reese tighten the strings. I find my breath caught in my chest, terrified to move, until his fingers brush against my lower back tying the ribbon into a bow. “There. I think I got it.”
“Thank you,” I turn to face him and there’s no mistaking the dark heat in Reese’s eyes. I feel the same in the pit of my stomach. Is this what Romeo and Juliet felt like? Star-crossed lovers? Whatever it is, it hurts, and I’d do almost anything to take that pain away.
Almost.
“You guys coming?” Nadia calls.
Her voice breaks the spell, and I grab my purse and rush out the door.
We’ve got a party to attend.
The fundraiser is held in the athletic complex, in a huge room just for events. It’s located on the sixth floor and the wall-to-wall windows provide a fantastic view of campus, including the football stadium and hockey arena.
“Who knew this was up here,” Logan says, taking in the room. There are long buffet tables filled with food, and several bars tucked into the corners. Massive screens hang on the walls, displaying images that showcase Wittmore’s athletic teams through the ages.
“Yeah, the team had a promotional meeting up here before the season started and we were invited as part of the support staff,” I explain. On that day, it had been photographers and journalists attending, but tonight the room is a gathering place for men and women of all ages. It’s not hard to discern that many are former athletes; a lot of them possess the same confident aura as the guys on the team.
Logan and I drove here alone—thank goodness—giving me some much needed space from Reese. I’m still processing that he asked Nadia to be his date, and although his reasoning makes sense, I’m a little pissed.
Okay, I’m more than pissed. I feel betrayed.
I’d tried to explain to Logan how surprised I was to see Reese, but he waved it off. Apparently, the shocked expression on my face was enough to convince him that I had no idea what was going on.
“Holy shit.” The curse is followed by a long whistle. “TG?”
I turn and spot Reid gawking at me. I fight the urge to fidget with the satin fabric of my dress. “Told you I wear dresses.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t tell me how hot you’d look.” He punches Axel, who’s whispering in the ear of the girl hanging on his other arm. “You see this?”
Axel pivots and his jaw drops. “Fuck, TG—”
“Nope.” I hold up my hands, narrowing my eyes at them. “Don’t be a creep. Either of you. I’m still the same girl you proclaimed was like one of your twelve-year-old brothers.”
“I take it back. Every word,” Reid chimes in, more amazed than inappropriate. “I’ve just never seen you in anything other than jeans and a hoodie. You clean up good, Perkins.”
“Likewise,” I admit. I take in Reid and Axel in their fitted suits. Outside of practice, I’ve never seen them wear anything other than jeans and T-shirts either—and for Axel, the shirt is always optional. Tonight, they both look impressive and mature. Even Axel’s shock of blond hair and the tattoo creeping out of his collar doesn’t detract. I rest a hand on Logan’s arm and introduce him. “This is Logan.”
“Hey, man.” Reid extends his hand for a handshake. They make small talk, which isn’t as awkward as I thought since hockey isn’t Logan’s thing, but he keeps up. “Oh shit,” Reid grumbles, “Coach is waving us over. Probably another lecture on not embarrassing him.”
They head off and I turn to Logan. “Sorry about that. It’s like working with a bunch of untrained puppies.” I watch them gather around Coach Bryant. “All in all, they’re pretty harmless.”
Logan takes my hand. “For the record, I agree, you do look hot in that dress.” He pushes a curl of hair behind my ear. “Stunning, actually.”
The compliment makes my cheeks flush, but it also brings a warring conflict in my chest. Isn’t Logan what I’ve wanted? Why I agreed to Reese’s help in the first place? I hate the confused, weird way this whole thing makes me feel.
I conceal all of this from Logan by suggesting we grab some food before the guys wipe out the buffet. We load up our plates, and I purposefully avoid the tables at the back of the room. They’re occupied with a myriad of athletes, accompanied by dates.
Brent is a central figure, with Shanna draped over his arm in a shiny, sparkling dress. They exude the air of a perfect couple. And when I spot Nadia and Reese seated with the rest of the hockey team, I get the same vibe. There’s a certain kind of woman that is required to support a leader like Reese. I know she’s not genuinely dating him, but her time chasing jerseys has finally paid off. Like Shanna, she knows exactly how to behave and act in this environment. She can be here for Reese and not have to split her attention between his goals and her own. That’s what he deserves.
And exactly what I can’t give him.
I lead Logan over to sit at a table with Coach Green and his wife, Janie. Jonathan’s there with his boyfriend, Rich, and there are a few other trainers that work with the other teams. This is where I belong. Logan helps me scoot in my chair and I put on my best effort while we eat.
“Hey,” I say to Logan after the plates are cleared, “I’m going to the restroom.”
He stands with me. “I’ll grab us another drink.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
I’ve just stepped out of the bathroom stall when Nadia walks in. We approach the sinks at the same time. I turn on the faucet, and she drops her purse on the granite countertop.
“You and Logan seem like you’re having fun,” she says, fishing out her lip gloss. “For a skinny guy he sure fills out a suit.”
“He’s a nice guy.” Her eyes meet mine in the mirror and I blurt, “You and Reese look good together.”
“Well, a sack of potatoes would look good next to him,” she mutters, opening her mouth into a circle. “But you should’ve seen Brent’s face when we walked in–” She stops abruptly, eyes widening. “Are you crying?”
“No,” I lie, grabbing a tissue off the counter and dabbing my eyes. “Absolutely not.”
“You are. You’re crying.” Panic fills her eyes. “Fuck no, that is not what’s supposed to happen.”
“I know he’s not mine to claim. I just… God, Nadia. Reese? Really? Do you like him?”
“Twy.” She drops her lip gloss and spins, grabbing me by the arms. “First of all, there is no reality where I’d go out with Reese Cain for real. He’s your ex–and that is a hard no for me. He’s also too fucking functional, and you know my type is hot and messy.”
I chuckle, because it’s true. One of the reasons it hit me so hard is that it took me by surprise.
“You do know the real reason he invited me, right?” she asks.
“Because you know how to make small talk, have killer tits, and will look perfect in the press photos next to the captain of the hockey team,” I guess. At the end of the day, Nadia is everything that I’m not. Confident, sexy, beautiful…
“Um, no.” She rolls her eyes. “He invited me because his coach said it was mandatory for the players to have a date and it would look bad if the captain didn’t follow through. You weren’t going to go with him and he sure as fuck didn’t want to open the door for another girl to get the wrong idea.” She squeezes my hand. “Babe, he’s locked down. For you. And he wanted to make that absolutely clear by bringing the one person who understood that.”
Her statement swirls in my head. He didn’t bring another date because he’s waiting for me? Even if it’s true, I’m not sure it matters.
“It hurt seeing you with him,” I admit.
“It hurt because you’re still in love with him,” she says gently.
“I may be, but nothing has changed. Nothing will change and we both need to get over it.”
Me. So I can get over him.
She snorts.
“What?” I ask.
“Men like Reese don’t get over stuff. They see an obstacle and figure out a way to bulldoze over it, or smash through it.”
“He’s more rational than that. He understands my decision. My job comes first—just like his does.” She makes a face, like she doesn’t believe me. But I’m not relenting. “I thought you supported me being here with Logan anyway.”
“I do support you.” She drops the lip gloss back in her bag and runs her hands through her hair, fluffing it. “But I also know that trusting other people, men in particular, to be there for you when you need it the most is something that’s hard for you.” She rests her hand on my arm. “I just think that if you gave him a chance, you may find out that you can trust Reese.”
She walks out and I follow her, feeling unmoored by everything going on in my life. Maybe I can trust Reese, I think, reentering the main room, but the bigger question is, can I trust myself?
