And I get Case’s hug instead.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
GIGI
Friendsgiving
“I HAVE GATHERED YOU ALL HERE THIS EVENING BECAUSE I HAVE A secret to share,” I announce.
“I thought we were gathered here for Friendsgiving,” Diana replies with a grin. She’s lying on the bright burgundy area rug in her living room, gripping both legs in a yoga stretch.
“Well, that’s the other reason,” I amend.
Mya and I are at Diana’s condo for our friends’ Thanksgiving the day before the real holiday. It’s our only chance to hang out before we all head off to our respective homes. Diana and I are both from Massachusetts, although her family home is right on the Vermont border. Mya’s dad is in Malta on his ambassadorial post, but her mother is meeting her in Manhattan for the long weekend.
I was tempted to invite Ryder home with me, but that’s…a scary move. It feels too early. Besides, I suspect he would’ve flat-out said no. Not sure I’d blame him. My father would only be grilling him the entire time. Plus I haven’t even told my parents that Ryder and I are together, and that’s a conversation I wouldn’t mind putting off a while longer. Nobody in my life knows other than Mya, Diana, and Will Larsen. I’ve even kept my own teammates in the dark.
I don’t love sneaking around, but the idea of announcing to the world that I’m dating Luke Ryder… it’s anxiety-inducing. Especially when my own feelings on the matter continue to be a jumbled mess.
“So, what’s the secret?” Mya asks, glancing up from her phone. For the past ten minutes she’s been filtering the photograph she took of our perfectly set table in Diana’s dining nook, preparing to post it on social media.
“I think I’m an exhibitionist.”
Diana rises from her stretch and purses her lips. “I don’t believe you.”
Mya nods. “Agreed.”
I glare at them. “You haven’t even heard why I think this!”
“Fine. We’ll be the judge,” Mya says. “Present your evidence, counselor.”
I bring my legs up to sit cross-legged on the floral-patterned couch that looks like it belongs in a Victorian parlor. The apartment Diana inherited from her late aunt Jennifer came with all her aunt’s furnishings. And Jennifer’s décor style is what I like to call thrift store chic. This doesn’t look at all like a college girl’s apartment. It’s got a quirky older cat-lady vibe, and yet Diana, in her booty shorts and Briar Cheer crop top, weirdly fits right in.
The aroma wafting in from the kitchen makes my stomach grumble. Rather than cooking a turkey for only three people, we opted for a rotisserie chicken that’s roasting in the oven. I haven’t eaten anything since before morning skate and I’m famished.
I don my most professional expression and commence with my opening statement.
“Exhibit A: I received oral sex in the library back in October. Well, in the study room.”
Mya raises a brow. “Door open or closed?”
“Closed.” I smirk at her. “But, like I told you after it happened—his friend Shane was behind the door. Practically participating.”
Diana’s eyebrows fly up. “What! I didn’t know this part. Define participating.”
“Well, covering for us. But he could hear everything, and at one point he told me to come.”
“Okay, that’s hot,” Diana relents, impressed. “Well, except for the fact that it was Shane Lindley.”
“What’s wrong with Shane?” I protest, grinning at her dark expression. “He’s hot.”
“I don’t care. He’s officially on my shit list. Dude’s slept with three of my teammates already this year, and counting. The last one, Audrey, fell so hard for him, figurately, that when he dumped her, she was so upset she started falling, literally, during practice. Almost broke her damned ankle.” Diana flips her platinum ponytail. “Tell that guy to leave the cheer team alone. We’re trying to win nationals.”
I snicker. “I’ll pass that along.”
“What’s the rest of your evidence?” Mya says, gesturing impatiently.
“Exhibit B: Sauna sex. Anyone could have walked in,” I hurry on when they both look ready to object.
Diana shrugs. “Everyone has sauna sex. You’re not living on the edge there. But the library is an acceptable exhibition. I’ll allow it into evidence.”
“I’ve never had sauna sex,” Mya says.
“You’re missing out,” I tell her. “Okay. Exhibit C: He fingered me at the opera.” I give them a smug look. “That was one hundred percent public. Right in the box.”
“Oh, he was in the box, all right,” drawls Mya.
Diana howls. “Nice.”
“And then yesterday, Exhibit D: I blew him in the car behind Malone’s,” I say, naming the sports bar in town.
Now that the Eastwood and Briar guys are openly fraternizing, they go out all the time, and Malone’s is their watering hole of choice. Whitney, Cami, and I met them there yesterday for a few drinks, where Camila finally lived her dream of going home with Beckett Dunne.
“All right. I’m actually quite impressed with all this,” Mya says frankly. “This is unlike you.”
“Very,” Diana agrees.
“That’s the thing—I don’t think that’s true. I think this is very like me. I just didn’t realize it.”
Mya grins. “So the enemy Eastwood captain made you realize you enjoy public sex.”
“I think yes, maybe he did.”
Like my sex life is a video game and then Ryder shows up and unlocks a new level, helping me discover a whole new kink.
In fact, he’s helped me discover a lot of things about myself. Like my tendency to refuse to voice my darker thoughts or complain about my problems for fear of being judged or told I have no right to complain because my life is too good. Thanks to him, I’ve been forcing myself to dig deeper into why I feel the things I feel, and why I do the things I do. Like the fact that I want something my dad doesn’t have. A medal. I always believed acknowledging that sort of stuff made you weak or, worse, turned you bitter.
But I’ve felt a strange sense of lightness ever since I released all of that.
Maybe what I really needed was to find the right person to release it to.
“Case would’ve been so uncomfortable with all this public stuff,” I admit. “He’s such a Boy Scout. He was okay with car sex sometimes, but I can’t possibly envision him getting me off at the opera. I would’ve felt weird asking him to.”
“But you’re perfectly cool asking Luke Ryder.”
“I’d ask him anything. I’m never worried, not in the slightest, that he’d judge me. He never does. He accepts me for exactly who I am.”
They both stare at me.
“What?”
“Oh my God. This isn’t about sex,” Diana accuses. She glances toward Mya. “This isn’t about sex.”
“Nope,” Mya confirms.
I wrinkle my forehead. “No, it is. Of course it is.”
Diana offers an oddly gentle smile. “Gigi. You’re in love with this guy.”