The next week passed in a dizzying blur.
I’d been in a daze the morning after my night with Vince, waking up with a cacophony of questions and thoughts screaming at me all at the same time.
What the fuck happened last night?
Oh my God… what the fuck happened last night?
That was a mistake.
That was the hottest experience of my life.
It can never happen again.
I can’t wait for that to happen again.
I need to talk to Livia about it.
I shouldn’t tell anyone it happened.
It was just for fun.
It was more than just a little fun.
At some point I let out a scream, stalking to the shower to scrub off the night and the memory and all the questions that paraded on the heels of it.
So what, we’d had sex. So what, it had been the best sex of my life by far.
I was a professional, and he was my client, for all intents and purposes. He was also a professional, and it would all be fine. We’d made an agreement that it was one time and one time only.
I only half-believed that as I made my way to his condo, feeling like I was doing the walk of shame even though I was showered and refreshed, and no one knew Vince had had my ass hanging off a weight bench while he ate my pussy last night.
I wondered if he’d smirk at me all knowingly when he saw me, if he’d tease me about the noises I’d made, or how embarrassingly wet I’d been for him.
But when Vince opened his door, he just offered me a polite good morning before letting me inside, and his pre-game rituals got underway. We went to the morning skate, he retired for his nap, we had fettuccini alfredo together, I posted a video mashup of him doing his pushups and turning on his closet light and calling his sister for their traditional dance.
And all the while, he didn’t say a word about the night before.
Sadly, we lost the game at home that night, ending the hot streak we’d been on. Vince had scored, but a nasty fight had broken out between the teams that seemed to tip the momentum into the hands of our New York opponents. They scored twice, back to back, leaving our fans going home as disappointed as the team was.
After that, the week just sort of… happened.
The One Month with Vince Tanev account had grown into a feeding frenzy. As soon as I posted a story, it was screenshotted or recorded and shared on other accounts, everyone thirsty for more content. My messages were so insane, there was no prayer of keeping up, and I couldn’t post a photo or video without it having thousands of likes in mere seconds.
When the account broke one-million followers, Reya and Camilla gave me a generous bonus.
And an extension.
One Month with Vince Tanev was now just Rookie Season with Vince Tanev. The Ospreys’ GM was so thrilled with how tickets were selling and all the coverage, that he wanted me there at least through the holiday season, and my bosses agreed.
It was business as usual.
I spent my days and nights with the team, almost feeling like I had always been a part of it. And though I worried it would, Vince’s demeanor didn’t change. He made his snarky little remarks and smiled in victory when he managed to make my skin heat. He tested out a few new pet names — darling, sunshine, sweetheart — all of which were shot down by a smack or glare from me.
Things weren’t weird, and he also didn’t push me, didn’t press for another night together.
Which was exactly what I had asked him for.
So why was I perturbed by it?
I felt like a toy that had been wound up tightly and then bound in rubber bands. I was ready to go, all this pent-up energy crackling beneath my skin, but I was stuck, unable to release any of it.
I masturbated more in that week than I had in the last year, even going so far as to buy a toy.
Each and every time, I thought of Vince, which only pissed me off.
After that picture he posted of us, the Internet had been buzzing with rumors. Camilla and Reya loved it, but they didn’t read the comments that streamed in under every post, or the messages that plugged my inbox.
You’re too ugly for Vince.
What does he even see in you?
You only got this job because he wants to have sex with you.
How big is his cock, Maven?
When he’s done with you, send him to me.
Whore.
Slut.
Puck bunny.
No one wants to see you. This is about hockey, not some romance fantasy.
I tried to ignore them, and when Vince was asked about us in interviews — which wasn’t often, but enough to make me grind my teeth each time — he would always laugh and politely defer. He spoke highly of me, saying I was a professional and I was good at my job, that the team loved having me around, but that there was nothing romantic between us or me and anyone else on the roster.
The first time he said it, that there was nothing between us, I’d felt queasy.
Even though it was what I wanted him to say.
… Right?
I was a damn mess.
Livia told me as much the night before I traveled with the team to Atlanta, me sprawled on her couch while she steamed one of her dresses.
“You’re a damn mess.”
I sighed.
“You like him. And he clearly likes you. Stop being a dumdum.”
“He’s fun, sure,” I conceded. “We have a good time together. But I don’t like him. And he doesn’t like me. He just wants to get me naked.”
She leveled me with a look, hanging one hand on her hip. “Bitch.”
I held up my hand to stop her. “I can’t like him, Livia.”
That made her pause, her brows folding together.
“I can’t,” I said again, throat thick. “I get hives just thinking about it.”
My best friend watched me for a long moment before she put her steamer down and sat beside me on her couch. “Can you walk me through why you feel this way?”
My eyes welled, and I laughed at myself, thumbing a tear away before it had the chance to fall. “I can try.”
Livia was quiet, patient, waiting for me to try to find the words to explain it. I kept coming up empty. How did you explain how someone left such a permanent mark on you?
I loved James. For nearly two years, he was my everything. I saw a future with him. We were building that future together. I believed him when he told me I was enough, that we were going to go the distance. I believed him when he said we were going to get married, that I’d bear his last name and, one day, his children. I’d built up a whole future in my head, one that felt so solid and sure.
And then he discarded me like an old golf club.
All it took was one event for him to feel ashamed of me, to go from viewing our differences as something beautiful to something insurmountable. He was the first person to make me second-guess my gut instinct, the first person I trusted who proved I was wrong for doing so.
When I was with Vince, when he opened up to me, when he asked me about what made me… me… it was terrifying.
Because I wanted to trust him. I wanted to spend my time with him. I wanted him to look at me, to touch me, to say I was his girl — even though I screamed at him when he actually did that.
But I knew, deep down in my gut, that we were from two different worlds.
And I knew even if I wanted to trust him, I shouldn’t.
After a long pause, I tried to explain it to my best friend. “I guess the best way I know how to put it is that it’s like if you were at a theme park, right? And you’ve heard terror stories about the roller coaster — how scary it is, how high it goes, all the loops. But you’ve also heard it’s amazing. And you’re an optimist, you’re a believer in good things happening to good people. So, you decide you’re going to take a chance, you’re going to ride the roller coaster.
“Your stomach is in knots as you wait in line, and when they strap you in, they look you right in the eyes and say, you’re safe.
“So, you throw your hands up, you laugh and feel the pure joy and excitement of riding that first slow incline up. You keep your hands there, and you revel in the joy of the first drop, the notion that you really are safe.”
I swallowed.
“Only for the seatbelt to break, and for you to fly out at the first loop, being tossed to the ground like a rag doll.”
I laughed a little through my nose, shaking my head.
“You end up maimed, physically and mentally, forever changed. And it doesn’t matter if it was a fluke accident, if the odds of it happening again are slim to none. Your body, your brain — they won’t let you take that chance. Any time you even think about it, you tremble. When you get close to it, you panic. You don’t even realize it, but you’re in survival mode, your instincts doing everything they can to protect you.” I looked Livia right in the eyes then. “You aren’t getting on another roller coaster again. You just… can’t.”
She rolled her lips together, nodding. “That was some powerful shit.”
“Maybe I should be an actress.”
“Nah, you’re too nasally.”
I laughed through the threat of tears, sniffing.
“Okay,” she conceded after a moment, her brows furrowed in thought. “What if you played within the safety net? What if it didn’t have to be serious? Maybe you don’t ride the roller coaster, but you still go to the theme park. You know — hang out on the spinning teacups, get your thrills on the water rides, eat too much cotton candy, stay late for the fireworks.”
I laughed. “Okay, I know this is my analogy, but you lost me.”
“Let him rock your world,” she said, leaning in and patting my leg. “Get your kicks, girl. You deserve them. And you need them, if I’m being honest. I can smell your sex-deprived desperation from here.”
I smacked her as we both laughed.
“That is a dangerous game to play,” I told her. “The friends with benefits route.”
“Could be fun, though.”
I chewed on her suggestion for a moment, but not long enough to actually consider it before I was waving her off. “Look, Vince and I are fine. We scratched the itch and got it out of our system. And now things are back to normal.”
“Normal,” she repeated, arching a brow. “Which is what, exactly, when it comes to you two? Because I’m pretty sure he’s been undressing you with those sexy eyes of his since that first night at the gala.”
“Maybe, but he’s seen the goods now. He’ll lose interest. He’s got a hundred girls throwing themselves into his lap every day. And we’re professionals.”
Livia pursed her lips. “Uh-huh.”
“I need to get going, long day tomorrow.” I popped off her couch. “Thank you for celebrating with me.”
“Hey, Reya and Camilla extending your assignment through the Christmas holiday is a pretty big deal.” She stood, too, grabbing my hand. “You are a big deal, my friend. Don’t forget that.”
I squeezed where she held me. “Thank you. I… I think I could actually see myself doing this for real, Liv. I love it. I’m good at it. Maybe this is just the start.”
“You can do anything you want to do. I’ve always told you that.”
“Best friend obligations.”
She pinched me. “It’s the truth. I just can’t wait to see what you do next.”
That made two of us.
