RoPlaying: So, I finally talked to The Guy.
ShootsAndScores: Yeah? How did that go?
RoPlaying: Good. Really good, actually. He gave me a totally legit reason for leaving like he did.
ShootsAndScores: And you believe him?
RoPlaying: I might be crazy for it, but I do. If you knew him, you’d understand. He’s just this…well, really sweet guy, so I can see it.
ShootsAndScores: Well, good. I’m glad you got it sorted out and you’re back on good terms.
RoPlaying: Me too.
RoPlaying: I think I may have you to thank for it.
ShootsAndScores: Me? Why?
RoPlaying: You convinced me to give him a shot at explaining himself. So, yeah, thanks for that.
ShootsAndScores: Well, then you’re welcome.
RoPlaying: You’re a good friend.
When he doesn’t respond after two full minutes, I click my screen off and slip my phone back into my pocket. I might be a lovesick fool or the most gullible person on the planet, but Fitz’s reasoning for ditching me at Slapshots was the sweetest thing ever.
It was so…Fitz.
He left to rescue his cat who is afraid of the dark because he didn’t want her to freak out? He may as well have been holding a lighter under my dress because I swear my panties melted right off.
“Oooh. You look like you’re thinking of something panty-melting. Tell me.”
Stevie rests her arms on the countertop beside me. The morning rush is gone, and we’re all out of things to do until it picks back up at eleven when people come in for their midday sugar coma.
“Fitz rescued his female cat who is afraid of the dark and likes to sit on bread and is named Carl, and I’m pretty sure it makes him the most beautiful man alive.”
When Stevie doesn’t say anything, I peek over at her.
“Did you hear what I just said? Fitz rescu—”
“I heard what you said. I also heard what you said yesterday when you told me this same story.”
“So why aren’t you swooning?”
“Oh, I am, because that is sweet as hell, but I also don’t want to be creeping on your man.”
“My man?” I scoff. “He’s not my man.”
“But he could be.” She bounces her brows up and down a few times. “Maybe even tonight at the party.”
“Ugh, the party. I still don’t know if I’m going.”
“What!” she explodes. “Of course you’re going. You have to.”
I don’t have to, but I’d be lying if I said a little part of me didn’t want to go. Fitz seemed excited by the idea of me going, and that made me excited about the idea of going. And who knows? Maybe this could be our shot. A loud party with flowing drinks, something to help ease the tension.
“I don’t have a costume,” I complain.
“Just wear your streaming getup. It’s not like anyone is going to know it’s you. Nobody knows you stream, right?”
I shake my head. “I haven’t told anyone.”
Not because I’m ashamed of what I do, because I’m not. It just hasn’t naturally come up in any conversation. And besides, when people ask me why I do it, I’m not sure I’m ready to explain the whole paying-for-school aspect of it because then I’d need to explain why I’m going back. I’m not ready to divulge that information to Scout yet.
“Then wear that. It’s sexy and it’s fun. And it shows off the incredible curves you have.” She bumps her shoulder against mine.
I used to be ashamed of my curves. I hated that my boobs were big and my ass spilled over the seats at restaurants. I especially hated the folds on my belly every time I bent over and the stretchmarks that lined my skin. I remember a time when I wore baggy clothes and gym shorts, doing anything and everything I could to not have something clinging to me.
Then, after everything that happened with Levi and I vowed to never be that meek little girl again, I did something daring—I wore a shirt that was actually my size. Sure, I still had my saggy basketball shorts on, but it was a huge feat for me. It took time, but eventually, I got to a point where it felt wrong to wear something that didn’t show off my body. Now, I’m proud of what I’m rocking, rolls and all.
“Whatever you wear, it’s going to have Fitz drooling, I know that.”
“And what if I show up to this party and he doesn’t recognize me and then we spend the entire night not talking or being awkward around one another?”
“Well, there is no doubt in my mind Fitz is going to be awkward because that’s just how that adorable shy boy is, but I know you’re not going to be. It’ll be a total movie moment: you walking in looking all hot, the music coming to a dramatic pause, and then he’ll see you and you’ll fall into each other’s arms and ask Lowell to use one of his rooms.”
“Not one of his rooms,” I remind her. “It’s a rental.”
“Even hotter because you don’t have to worry about leaving the room all messy. Actually, maybe I can sneak off with Greer…” The wheels start turning in her head, and I have no doubt she’s already plotting ways to get him up to a room—not that she’ll have to work hard. Greer is obsessed with her, and he’s not afraid to show it no matter who is watching.
She gives herself a shake. “Anyway, that’s what’s going to happen. Mark my words.”
“Oh, yes, I’ll just start holding my breath now.” I roll my eyes. “Don’t we have work to be doing?”
She groans. “Yes, but I don’t want to do it. I hate working here.”
“So why do you?”
She twists her lips back and forth a few times before saying, “Because it’s easy, and sometimes easy is nice. But what I really want is to do something else, maybe even teach.”
“You want to be a teacher?”
“I think so.” She bites on her bottom lip. “Do you think that’s crazy?”
“What? No! I think it’s a great idea! I mean, they’re tragically underpaid, so that part sucks, but I think it would be a good fit for you.”
“Really? Because I do too. I don’t think I’ve done a bad job with Macie, so working with other kids could be fun.”
“I think it’s the perfect job for you.”
This is it, Rosie. This is your chance to tell Stevie about wanting to open your own bakery.
“And this is the perfect job for you, you know. I don’t think Scout or I tell you enough, but we really appreciate what you’ve done here, stepping up to give her room to fulfill her writing dreams. It means a lot, and you mean a lot to us.”
Guilt eats at me more and more with every word that leaves her mouth. I love this place. I love Scout and I love Stevie too, but making donuts isn’t my dream. I want to do more. I want to make more. Hell, I might even want to cater some events.
I can’t tell Stevie that now though, not when she’s just said all these incredible things about me. It’ll only make her sad.
“Thanks,” I say instead. “You two mean a lot to me too.”
She smiles, then bumps my shoulder again. “All right. Enough sappy shit. Let’s get this place ready before all the fancy business boys come for their midday hit of caffeine so we can get out early and get ready for the party tonight.”
For the first time since she asked me to go, I’m actually looking forward to the party because I have a feeling Fitz will be there, and tonight, I plan to tell him just how I feel.
“Great. Now I’m the weirdo who showed up to the party in an Uber instead of driving because she got nervous and did three shots before she left her apartment.”
“Um, ma’am, this is an Uber, not a confessional, and I have other rides to pick up.”
I wince. “Right. Sorry,” I tell my driver. “Thank you for the ride. Five stars.”
“Fucking better be,” the guy mutters as I push the door open and climb out of the old Honda Civic.
I shut the door, he peels off, and I think for a second about removing one star just because, but I know he doesn’t really deserve it. I mean, I did just sit in the back of his car muttering to myself for a full ten minutes.
I give him five stars and a hefty tip, then slip my phone back into my purse before I do something dumb like read over my messages with ShootsAndScores again. He still hasn’t responded from earlier, and for some reason, it’s not sitting right with me.
I do my best to brush it aside and focus on the here and now—this damn Halloween party. I’ve never been a big party person, and this one has butterflies swirling in my belly because I’m not sure what to expect. Fitz seemed excited about the idea of me coming, but I wish I knew why. As a friend? As potentially more? I don’t know, and not knowing is killing me.
“Well, there is only one way to find out,” I say.
I stare up at the sprawling mansion Lowell rented for the party. I can hear the music from out here, and I just know it’s going to be a madhouse when I get inside. I mean, it’s a bunch of professional hockey players; they aren’t exactly known for keeping things tame.
I blow out a breath, pull my skirt up, and make my way up the stairs. I don’t bother knocking—it’s not like anyone could hear me anyway—and push the door open. I’m immediately assaulted by the thumping bass of whatever rap song is blaring through the speakers. It’s so loud I can feel it in my chest, and I already regret coming.
“This is so not my scene,” I murmur as I wade through the groups of partygoers.
There are so many people, many more than there are on the team, that’s for sure. They’re all dancing or talking, and some are even kissing. It’s exactly what I imagined a party with a bunch of hot hockey players would look like—pure chaos.
“Hey! You made it!”
I spin to find Stevie walking toward me, a black and orange cup in each hand. She’s decked out head to toe as Elsa from Frozen. She wraps me in a hug, and it’s apparent I’m not the only one who has already had something to drink tonight. I can smell the booze wafting off her.
“You look great!” she shouts in my ear, giving me a big smile. “Fitz is going to love it.” She points to the room behind her. “He’s in there somewhere. Last I saw he was on the couch being a party pooper.” She juts her bottom lip out, and I laugh.
“You look amazing, too. I love the wig.” I finger the braid that’s hanging over her shoulder.
“Isn’t it great? Greer said he already has plans for later, something about acting out a dirty Disney version, one where I’m on my knees and he’s the evil guy who is going to spank me instead of trying to take over my kingdom, and I cannot wait.” Her eyes widen. “Oh my god, pretend I didn’t say that. I’m drunk.”
“You don’t say,” I tease. “Where’s everyone else?”
She nods toward another side of the house. “Lots of them are over there. Some are in the kitchen, a few in the basement. I think they’re playing strip poker? I don’t know. Oh!” She smacks her forehead with her wrist, and whatever alcoholic beverage she has in her cup sloshes over the side. If any gets on her, she doesn’t seem to care. “I almost forgot. We need your phone.”
“My phone?”
“Yep. Them’s the rules, straight from Lowell’s mouth. No phones because it means evidence, and if things go awry, as captain, he’s the one in trouble.”
“Okay…” I dig into the small clutch I brought, then hand it over.
She tosses it into a bucket near the door that’s already overflowing with other devices, then leans in close to me. “Don’t tell Lowell, but I totally have my phone on me. I have a kid, dammit! I have to know if she’s okay.”
I mimic zipping my lips. “I won’t say a word.”
She winks and bumps me with her hip. “Come on. Let’s go show everyone how hot you look.”
I shake my head at her, letting her lead the way.
“Hey, guys, Rosie’s here!” she announces to the room.
I stop dead in my tracks when I see what’s before me.
“Is that… Is that Collin’s ass?”
Stevie barks out a loud laugh, pulling just about everyone’s attention since the music is a little quieter back here.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” says Harper, who, based on the mask that’s pushed up on the top of her head, is dressed as Michael Myers. She smacks her husband’s exposed cheeks.
“Hey!” Collin whirls around, glaring at her. “What’d I tell you about that, woman?”
“That I’m your wife and I’m legally allowed to smack your ass?” she challenges.
He shakes his head, pretending to be mad, but it’s obvious he’s enjoying her ogling him.
“Wait. If you’re Michael, then he’s…”
“Laurie Strode circa Halloween II. The first time we came to one of these, he dressed as Michael, and I was Laurie. Figured we’d switch it up this year.” She shrugs. “Why he insisted on not wearing any damn underwear under his hospital gown is beyond me.”
“Because it’s funny.” Collin rolls his eyes at his wife.
She holds her fake knife up to him. “Keep it up, babysitter. I’ll cut you.”
“And I’ll escape. It’s what I do.”
“I swear this is foreplay for them and we’re all being forced to witness it,” Rhodes grumbles from the other side of the counter.
I’m shocked to see him in costume, but when I notice who he and Ryan are dressed up as, it makes total sense.
“Beauty and the Beast, huh?”
Ryan grins over the rim of her cup. “Fits us perfectly, doesn’t it?”
“I love it,” I tell her, and I do. He’s the big scarred grumpy man and she’s the beauty queen of YouTube who is currently in talks with a major makeup company to launch her own line. It’s totally fitting for them.
I check out the rest of the group’s costumes. Smith and Emilia are dressed as The Big Bad Wolf and Little Red Riding Hood, which seems appropriate for them. Though I’m surprised to see them here with the new baby at home, I love that Hollis and Lowell are dressed as two different versions of Freddie Mercury, looking seconds away from bursting out into “We Are the Champions.” The new guy, Ford, is dressed as Han Solo (I guess a play on his name), and his girlfriend is Princess Leia. I don’t know either of them very well yet, but I’m excited to have new faces showing up at the truck.
After seeing Stevie’s costume, I’m not surprised to find Scout dressed up as Anna, nor am I shocked to find Miller as Kristoff. But the one that really gets me is the nose that’s on a very, very grumpy-looking Greer.
“What?” he growls at me.
I tuck my lips together, refusing to laugh, mostly because I’m a little scared of him.
“Nothing. I like your cos—” The word ends with a laugh because I cannot hold it in any longer. “Really? That’s the best you could muster up?”
He glowers at me. “Shut up. I make a damn fine Olaf, thank you very much.”
He’s wearing a full-on snowman costume complete with a fucking carrot for a nose. He looks ridiculous, and I love it.
“You look great,” I tell him, speaking honestly. I really love seeing the big grump be miserable.
“Doesn’t he? We’re playing find the carrot later.”
“Jesus,” Greer mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose, then setting down his drink. He wraps his arms around Stevie’s waist. “That’s it—you’re cut off.”
“Oooh, are we starting now?” She grabs him through his jeans. “I found something long and hard!”
Everybody laughs as he carries her from the kitchen.
“Please nobody hold this against her. She doesn’t drink often,” Scout says in defense of her sister.
I hold my hand up. “No judgment from me. I don’t hold my liquor very well either.”
This is exactly why I stopped at three shots before I left, and I’m refusing to let another drop of alcohol touch my lips tonight. I’d rather not be completely obliterated just in case I do happen to run into Fitz.
“So, what’s your costume?” Scout asks.
“Oh.” I glance down at my outfit. It’s not far off from what I’d wear for my live streams. I paired my usual lingerie with a long, silky black skirt with a slit that sits dangerously high on my thigh. “I’m not sure. I just threw something together.”
“It looks familiar,” says Hayes, who is just wearing his jersey, eyes narrowed as he takes me in.
I shrug, hoping he doesn’t know what I spend my evenings doing.
“Well, it’s cute. I love the top. I wish I were brave enough to wear something like that.”
“Um, you do all the time for me, babe.” Miller presses a kiss to her head. “Not that it’s on long before it’s on my bedroom floor.”
“Miller!” she hisses.
He doesn’t look the least bit sorry.
I slide my eyes around the room, hoping maybe he abandoned his spot on the couch and decided to join us, but with everyone wearing costumes, it’s hard to figure out who he is. I glance through the dining room and into the second living room, and I stumble back when I find someone standing in a corner, staring at me intently.
He’s not dressed as anything I recognize, wearing a simple black suit and a mask that’s similar to mine, just inverse in coloring. His eyes are burning a hole right through me, like he couldn’t look away if he tried, and frankly, I don’t want him to.
Something about him seems familiar…like I should know him…
Someone passes by, and by the time they clear the area, the stranger is gone.
Huh. Weird.
“Hey, I think I just saw Fitz head into that room,” Collin says, pointing in the direction I was just looking. “Someone go get his antisocial ass and bring him in here.”
“I’ll do it,” I find myself saying before I realize what I’m doing.
Oh my god, can I be any more obvious?
If anyone is shocked by my volunteering, they don’t show it.
I weave my way through the crowd, trying to avoid the drunken bodies that are moving all over the room. When I finally make my way to where Collin pointed, I know Fitz the second I spot him.
He’s leaning one arm against a floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the dark yard. One hand is in his pocket, and even from here, I can tell he’s lost in thought. I don’t expect him to spot me when I move closer, but the shift in his posture is clear—he knows I’m here.
He turns toward me, a grin spreading across his face, showing off that toothless smile that makes my stomach do all kinds of flips. The gold and black mask he’s wearing shifts with the movement, and he takes a step closer. The scent I love so much, fresh linen with a hint of lavender, hits me all at once, making me feel safe and comfortable.
He takes another step. Then another.
And suddenly, he’s only inches away. So damn close that if I moved just a little, we’d be touching, and I really want to be touched.
He leans toward me, his breath tickling my ear. “Evening, Ro.”
Two words…that’s all he says. It’s all he has to say.
And I know without a doubt there is no way I’m leaving this party without making him mine.
