Play With Me: Chapter 15

“I think it’s a fantastic idea.”

“I don’t.” In my head, my response sounds more like, You’re delusional like always, turd muncher.

Mikhail pulls a frowny face. “And why not? Simon just said he’s on board.”

Simon’s always on board; that’s part of the issue.

And being on board about the two of us posing as a couple in love to really sell the performance? I’d rather submerge myself in a shark tank during shark week—mine, not the Discovery Channel’s.

“I’m not comfortable with it,” I tell my dance coach honestly. “I don’t like lying.”

“It’s called acting, Jennifer.”

He slings one arm around my shoulders, the other around Simon’s, and starts walking us forward. I have no idea where we’re going, and if I had to guess, neither does Mikhail. He’s all about dramatic conversations, which usually means a lot of aimless wandering, staring at nothing but pretending you’re seeing his vision, and clapping out syllables.

“It’s too late for the Christmas show. Jennie, you need some work on your acting. I need to feel how much you love Simon. We can get there in time for the Valentine’s recital, though, and that’s the one that matters most.”

He stops and twirls, painting his hand through the air in an arc. “Just imagine: the two of you dazzling the stage on Valentine’s Day, the day meant for love. You put on the most magnificent performance this school has ever seen, and you finish it with a kiss.” He clasps his hands under his chin. “But not just any kiss. The kind where you, Simon, sweep you, Jennie, off your feet, tip you back, and go for it, full movie effect. And the crowd goes wild.” Another spin. “You turn the biggest cynics into believers. Everyone falls in love with my Diamond Dazzlers, and everyone wants to fall in love out there in the real world. And the best part? Ticket sales skyrocket for our year-end recital in April because everyone wants to see the happy couple shine on stage together.”

Simon grins. “Honestly, Mik, I love it. Your best idea yet.”

It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my entire life. This guy has a teaching degree? Someone take it away. “I don’t think—”

“Jennie and I have great chemistry too. We’ll nail it.” Simon slings his arm around me, grinning, all teeth. I’m not a dentist, but I’d love to yank one or two of those things out. They might be useful in identifying his body one day, should it ever come to that.

Mikhail trots away, rambling on about magic and love and chemistry. He waltzes right through the door, chuckling, and I realize he’s as delusional as Simon.

I slap Simon’s hand from my shoulder. “I didn’t agree to anything, and I’m sure as hell not kissing you.”

“It’s a ways away,” Simon says, following behind me. “You have some time to think about it.”

“I’ve thought about it. It’s a no from me.”

Simon sighs, plopping down on the bench as I pull a pair of sweatpants over my shorts. “Jennie, you can’t stay mad at me. Please. I can’t take it. You’re my friend.”

“Didn’t really seem like it when you were trying to shove your tongue down my throat.”

“I made a mistake. I’ve always wanted to explore things with you, and I had to shoot my shot while I had it. We were alone, dancing, and I donno…” He lifts a shoulder, giving me those eyes. “Felt kinda romantic. But I got it: no feelings on your end. Loud and clear. Won’t happen again.” Simon folds his hands beneath his chin, pouting. “Please forgive me. I don’t want to lose your friendship, and I can’t bear the thought of replacing you as my dance partner.”

I roll my eyes and head for the door. “Obviously. I’m magnificent out there.”

Simon jogs after me. “So…a second chance? Please?”

With a sigh, I stop, pinning my arms to my chest as I watch him. He’s not the most genuine guy, but the sad truth is he’s been the only friend I’ve had here, the only person other than my teachers who’s consistently sat and drank coffee with me, talked about more than whether I think my brother’s going to take his team to the Stanley Cup again this year.

God, I hope I don’t regret this. “I don’t give third chances, Simon.”

“Yes!” He punches a fist through the air before wrapping me in a hug. “I won’t let you down, I promise!” He steers me down the hall. “Wanna grab a coffee?”

“Mine will have to be to-go. Carter’s picking me up on his way home from the airport.”

“I can’t believe he’s cool with you dating one of his teammates.”

I fumble a step. “What?”

“Garrett Andersen?”

“I’m not—” My head wags rapidly. “No, I’m not dating Garrett.”

“Really? ’Cause he told me he was gonna put my balls in a blender if I hurt you again.”

I fold my lips into my mouth, swallowing my snort. Okay, so I might’ve given Garrett a hard time about approaching Simon—strong, independent woman and all that—but I gotta hand it to him, that’s a good one. BJ worthy, even. Not that I need an excuse to suck his cock. But it’s fun to pretend like he needs to earn it.

“We live in the same building,” I explain. “He was picking me up on his way home. We’re just friends, and he’s only protective ’cause of Carter.”

Simon’s expression is suspect, but instead of trying to convince him, I change the subject, and he takes off with another hug when he sees the long line at the coffee kiosk.

I shoot off a text to Garrett while I wait for my cappuccino.

I huff a laugh, grinning at my phone. Men.

Okay, well that’s kind of sweet.

There it is.

“Jennie?” the barista calls, holding my drink up. His gray eyes move over me, and my cheeks heat when I take the cup from him, our fingers brushing. He’s tall and lean with a messy head of ebony waves, tattoos decorating his arms.

“Hey.” He his head toward the bakery display. “It’s a cold one out there. How about a warm ginger molasses cookie for the road?” He winks. “On me.”

I bat my lashes. “You trying to buy me with cookies?”

His elbows hit the countertop as he leans closer. “You don’t seem like the kind of girl who can be bought.” He tucks the cookie in a paper bag and holds it out to me. When I reach for it, he pulls it closer. “Tell you what, though. How about in exchange for the cookie, you let me buy you dinner?”

Butterflies take flight in my stomach. I’ve never been on a real date. The idea is as thrilling as it is scary. I like how things are going with Garrett, but what if I could have it all? What if I could have the pleasure, the fun, the friendship, and the love, all wrapped up in one person?

“So you want to buy me cookies and dinner?” I tug the treat from his hand. “I might be able to squeeze you in.”

His eyes hood, grin deepening, pulling in a dimple in his chin. “I love squeezing in. Tomorrow?”

My stomach somersaults. I tuck a loose wave behind my ear. “That works.”

“Great. Should I pick you up at your brother’s?”

My heart stops, sinking. “What?”

“You’re Carter Beckett’s sister, right? Do you live with him? I’d love to meet him. I can pick you up at his place and you can introduce us. We don’t even have to do dinner. My friends are having a party tomorrow night.” He nabs the end of my braid, winding it around his finger. “They’re big fans of your work.”

My throat runs dry as my pulse races. “My dancing?”

The barista—his name tag says Nate—smirks. “Sure. Let’s call it that.”

Fiery hot blood rushes to my face, drumming in my ears. I crush the cookie in my hand as my fists clench, bile rising in my throat. The chatter in the cafeteria grows muddled and muted, like I’m underwater. Without another thought, I toss the cookie at Nate’s chest, my drink in the garbage, and hoof it out of there.

It would be just my luck that Krissy and A² have caught it all.

“Yikes.” Krissy grimaces. “That was tough to watch. Must be hard being the second-string Beckett sibling.” She rubs my shoulder like she cares about me. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I lie.

“Rejection must be hard.”

Pressing my fingers to my forehead, I close my eyes to the impending headache. I’m not in the mood to entertain Krissy’s shit. I’m hovering on the goddamn edge, not sure if I want to cry, scream, or be sick. Truthfully, the only appealing idea is letting Garrett make me forget all about this, remind me why this—no strings, no feelings, just pleasure—is better.

“We missed you last weekend,” Krissy continues. “Shopping, dinner, drinks, dancing…It was weird having all the dance girls there except you.”

“You didn’t invite me.”

“Didn’t I? Shit, I must’ve forgotten.”

I turn toward the door, ignoring the pang of hurt that sweeps through me. It may not make sense, but that doesn’t make it any easier to ignore that it’s always been there.

The older I get, the more prominent my status as a loner becomes. But the thing is, I don’t want to be alone. Maybe that’s why it’s getting increasingly difficult to balance the I hate them and wouldn’t be caught dead wasting my life with people like that with the I wish they’d invited me.

“Maybe next time,” Krissy says.

My smile is weak, and I hate it. I hate this part of me, my inability to make authentic and meaningful friendships, the urge to fit in, even when I don’t really want to. I want to be unapologetically me, and what I wouldn’t give for people to love those parts. More than that, I want to believe they do.

I’m tired of the doubt, of tucking pieces of myself away in hopes that someone might take me in. No matter how much I starve it, the fear grows like weeds. I’m a tangled web of uncertainties and insecurities, and I don’t recognize myself.

Yet when Carter pulls up out front, the tension in my shoulders immediately melts away.

Krissy might as well be purring as she follows behind me, like she’s planning to climb in with me. “Is that your brother?”

“No,” I answer bluntly, loading myself into the front seat, narrowly missing Carter’s face when I aggressively toss my bag into the backseat. “It’s my grandma.” I slam the door and sink into my seat. “Yes, Krissy, you fucking doorknob. It’s my brother.”

Carter grins. “Ah, my sweet, charming sister. How I’ve missed you.”

“Carter! Why are my cookies above the fridge?”

I prop my elbows on the countertop, watching my tiny, pregnant sister-in-law as she turns into Spider-Woman and tries to crawl up the stainless-steel fridge.

“Son of a…goddamn…bitch,” she grunts, slapping at the top of the fridge, which is as high as she can reach.

Carter waltzes into the kitchen. “You asked me to put them somewhere you couldn’t reach. You said you were eating too many.”

“I’m pregnant,” Olivia growls. “And you made me this way! And another thing!” She stabs an angry finger into his chest. “I’m allowed to eat too many cookies!”

Carter leans into me, hand over his mouth. “She’s been especially aggressive and emotional lately.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll grab—”

He bars his arm across my chest, stopping me. “I like to let her go for a couple minutes. It tires her out, kinda like an overstimulated kitten.”

God, I hope I’m here the day Olivia finally decides to let him have it.

This right here is where I need to be, watching my mom yell at Carter for hiding his wife’s cookies, then him and Olivia fighting over said cookies, and Hank sneaking a whole handful of them. Any residual anger from the day fades away, replaced with a soft, warm feeling in my chest that only comes with family.

The warmth still lingers a half hour later, when Carter, Hank, and Olivia, all smiling happily with their stacks of Oreos next to their plates of lasagna, are seated around the dinner table.

Hank twists a cookie apart. “How’s school, Jennie?”

“Good. Great.” I sigh when everyone pauses eating. “I’m ready for it to be over,” I admit.

Carter points his fork at me. “Steve’s dragging you down. You should ditch him.”

Reason one why I’m not going to tell him Mikhail wants Simon and me to pretend to be a couple. I do, however, finally open my mouth and tell my family the secret I’ve been hanging on to.

“There’s a job opening at The National Ballet in Toronto after graduation. And, uh…” I fold my napkin, unfold it, then fold it again. “Leah recommended me for the job.”

“Jennie,” Olivia murmurs. “That’s incredible.”

Hank finds my hand and clasps it, pressing a loud smooch to it. “Way to go, kiddo.”

Carter springs from his seat, engulfing me in a hug that’s teetering on the edge of suffocating. He only pulls away when somebody starts wailing, choking on their sobs.

It’s my mom.

“Aw, Mom.” I go to her, hugging her from behind. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m fine,” she cries. “Totally fine!” Another sob. “It’s just that I’m equal parts so happy for you and so sad for myself.” She buries her face in my neck. “I don’t want to lose my best friend, but I want you to have everything you want and deserve, and I don’t know how to express that all, so it’s coming out as tears!”

A heavy ache rips through me as she clings to me. “You’ll never lose me, Mom. I don’t think I’m going to go.”

“You have to go,” Carter interjects, arms in the air. “It’s your dream!”

Is it though? How can I go after something without being 100 percent certain it’s the future I want?

Another choking sob pierces the air, and tears start streaming down Olivia’s cheeks.

“Nooo.” I scrub my face. “Not you too!”

“I’m just really happy for you but I also really want you to stay because you’re going to be the best auntie ever and you’re one of my best friends, and your mom is sad and that’s making me sad, and my mom’s on the other side of the country and I miss her so much so I don’t want to miss you, too, but you should pursue your dreams, and also I’m just—” she gasps for air, flapping at her face, “—feeling really, really emotional right now!”

Carter meets my gaze as Mom and Olivia collapse into each other, weeping.

Help me, he mouths.

“Uh, right. I love you both,” I tell Mom and Olivia, kissing their heads as Carter leaps to his feet. “I promise you’ll never lose me. Carter’s driving me home now.”

“You’re gonna leave me here with these two?” Hank calls after us in disbelief.

“You were made for this,” Carter yells over his shoulder as he ushers me down the hallway. “Good thinking,” he mutters as he hands me my coat. “I think Mom might be entering the phase.”

“Carter!” I whack him in the shoulder.

“What?” he asks, sweeping me into the garage. “Oh, are you on your period?”

I shake my head in disbelief. “How in the fuck has Olivia not killed you yet?”

His grin is oddly proud as he runs his palm over his torso. “She tries on a weekly basis.”

I roll my eyes as I turn toward the cars. Olivia’s beat-up old Corolla sits on the end, unused in months. I’ve seen her out here petting it, like she can’t bear to part ways with it. “Which car are we taking?”

“Any one you want.” Carter taps on the hood of his BMW. “You could take the Beemer.” He scoops up a set of keys and swings them around his pointer finger. “Or you could have the Benz.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. I’m too tired for games, my heavy emotions are creeping back up, and there’s a sexy hockey player at home who’s eager to put his face between my thighs. “What are you talking about?”

He pets the hood of his graphite Mercedes Benz. “I think you want this pretty lady.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “Carter.”

“We don’t need all these cars, Jennie.”

“Then why did you buy them?”

“Because I’m ostentatious,” he murmurs, leading me to the driver’s seat.

“Carter! This is ridiculous!” I grip the door frame when he tries to shove me inside. “You can’t give me a car! You already gave me an apartment!”

“You don’t have your own car.”

“I’m gonna get one!” In the summer maybe, when I hopefully have a job.

“C’mon, Jennie. For the winter, at least.”

“I don’t like driving in the winter! The roads are slick and-and-and accidents happen!” My chest hurts, and I don’t even know why.

Carter’s eyes soften. “It has four-wheel drive and snow tires. Let me make life a little easier for you. You’re a safe driver.”

“Oh great. Now you’ve jinxed me.”

Carter wraps an arm around my waist, lifts me off my feet, and stuffs me into the seat. He clicks the seat belt in place and drops the keys in my hand, folding my fingers around it. “Just give it a week, okay? If you hate driving that much, I’ll take it back.”

My hands reluctantly glide over the leather steering wheel. This car is pretty, no doubt about it. “I’d look pretty dope rolling up to the grocery store in this, eh?”

“So dope.”

I sigh. “Okay. I’ll try it.”

Carter shows me all the features, and he doesn’t open the garage until I promise to text him to let him know I made it home safely.

“Oh wait.” I roll down the window. “I forgot to mention this a couple weeks ago, but your wife wants you to fuck her like you mean it.”

Carter stares. “What?”

“You cannot poke your baby in the eye, Carter.”

He glances at his crotch. “Are you sure? I’m pretty well-endow—”

“Stop.” I hold up a hand. “Please stop. My God, what is this life I’m leading?” I sigh. “Okay. Thanks for the car. I’ll take care of her, hopefully. You take care of your wife. Bye. I’m going now. Good-bye.”

Okay, this car is pretty cool. It has a banging stereo system, and I can text using my voice, and somehow the car sends it. That’s how I wind up yelling at Garrett over “Dear John.”

“Can you meet me in the parking garage? It’s important!”

“Bear said, ‘Did you slash my tires? I get to spank you if you did.’ Do you want to reply?”

“Yes,” I tell Veronica, which is the name I’ve given my new car. “Note to self: find something to slash tires with.”

That’s basically how Garrett finds me sprawled across the hood of Veronica when the elevator doors open, revealing him in all his messy hair, sweatpants, and dry-fit T-shirt glory.

“What the fuck is this?” he asks with a chuckle. His eyes coast over me, then the parking garage, before he slips his hand beneath my coat and wraps his palm around the curve of my waist. “Hi.” His soft lips sweep across mine. “Your brother did not willingly allow you to take his Benz.”

I pull my dimples all the way in. “He did.”

“Damn, he loves you way more than I thought. This wasn’t a good idea. We need to break up. No more special friends.”

“Please. You couldn’t kick me out of your bed if you tried.” I pop off the hood with a wink and reach for the waistband of his sweats. “I suck your cock too damn good.”

His bright eyes sparkle as he pins me to the car with his body. The only thing gentle about it is the way his lips ghost over the edge of my jaw until they find my ear. “Keep talking, sunshine. I’ll shove you in this backseat and make you suck me dry.”

“Perfect.” I slip my hand down his pants, palming his thick length. “I’ll be done in two minutes.”

Thirty seconds later, we’re pinballing around the elevator, hands and mouths everywhere.

“Ow.” Garrett pins my wrists on either side of my head. “You ripped out my hair.”

“You bit me.”

“You like it,” he growls, mouth opening on my neck.

My fingers sink into his hair. “So do you.”

“This is so incredibly entertaining,” a voice murmurs, and my blood freezes. “You’re so wrapped up in each other you haven’t even realized the elevator is stopped and I’m standing right here.”