“I will say, I think wearing my scar is easier than bearing the hidden ones you have to live with.”
She stilled, her next breath paused in her chest for a moment before she looked at me.
I wanted to ask her more about her ex, about the fucking bastard responsible for all the barbed-wire-lined walls she stood so shakingly behind. He’d hurt her. That much she’d admitted. But it was deeper than what she’d let on, little remnants of him sticking to her like shrapnel from an explosion.
Suddenly, her phone vibrated, the screen lighting up and breaking through the darkness in the room.
She swiped it off the table, sighing a bit before she glided her thumb over the screen and fired off a message.
“What’s up?”
“Reya is asking for an update.” She looked at me like she was ashamed of what she was going to say next. “Everyone wants to know you’re okay.”
I maneuvered myself to sit up straighter on the couch. “Well, let’s give the people what they want.”
“Really?”
I shrugged like it was no big deal, giving her a wink.
She cared about her job, about what people thought of her. Maybe if I showed her I cared about it, too, I could break out of the box she’d put me in in her mind. I thought about what Livia said when I’d called her, before she’d told me where Maven was on her date.
You’ve got a long road ahead of you to earn her trust.
Maven watched me for a moment before tapping on her screen until she had Instagram pulled up. She snapped a picture of me holding up two thumbs, and when she showed it to me, we both laughed at my swollen, bruised face, and the gnarly cut covered by bandages.
Once the photo was posted, Maven hopped up from the floor, wincing a bit from the position she’d been in for so long. My stomach immediately sank, knowing she was about to leave. It was the first night I’d spent with her without her teeth being bared, the first time I felt her peeking over those walls — even if just a little.
“We better get some sleep,” she said. “Do you need anything before I go?”
Stay.
The word reverberated in my mind, in my chest, but I snuffed it out like a candle flame.
“I mean, I could use a massage,” I said. “Or maybe a kiss — that would make it all better, right?”
“Vince,” she warned.
“Maven,” I echoed.
She looked so cozy in that moment, so relaxed, and yet I watched in slow-motion as she snapped every single guard back into place, a little line between her brows showing before she turned away.
“Make sure to keep icing,” she said, grabbing her bag off the table by the door.
“Careful. You’re doing that thing where it seems like you might care about me again.”
She turned, hanging a hand on her hip. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
There she is, I thought. My feisty girl.
I couldn’t resist the chance to play with her.
“Oh, by the way, I forgot to ask… how was your walk home from the gym last week?”
Maven’s face slackened as my grin grew.
“I know it was a bit… hot that night. Humid. Things can get a little… sticky.”
Her mouth popped open for just a moment before she scoffed and turned on her heel.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Did it rain?” I called behind her, arms resting on the back of the couch as I watched her go. “I heard things were a little wet.”
“Goodbye.”
I laughed long after she slammed the door.
One Stubborn Girl
Vince
The rookie party was a highly anticipated event for the Tampa Bay Ospreys.
At a point in the season where things were relatively calm — meaning we had at least a few days between games and our record wasn’t too shitty — the veterans would essentially kidnap the rookies on the team for a night of debauchery in their honor.
Coach McCabe was noticeably absent for the affair, and thankfully so, because I was currently in my underwear on stage at a strip club with a bucket of water being poured over my head.
I threw my hands up when I was drenched by the strippers, shaking my hair like a wet dog to the roar of my teammates. We were the only ones in the club other than the women who worked there, and they were good sports, playing into our chaos and making it a memorable night for everyone.
I, personally, was amazed at how they were so steady, walking in their eight-inch heels across a soaking wet stage like slipping and falling wasn’t even a risk on their radar. And when they grabbed the poles behind us and swung themselves up and into a plethora of contortions, the team erupted again, nearly blowing the ceiling off the joint.
I used the distraction as an excuse to hop down from the stage, thanking the girl who handed me a towel and my clothes with a wink. It was poor Carter’s turn next, and he was throwing back another shot to prepare for his torture.
“If only my mom could see me now,” I said when I flopped into a table booth next to Jaxson.
“Ew, bro, you’re soaked.” He tried to shove me away, but I shook my hair again, flinging droplets of water at him before I tugged my jeans on over my wet briefs. I left the shirt off, graciously accepting the beer delivered by the cocktail waitress as Jaxson used my towel to wipe his arms.
“Was your party this wild?” I asked him, glancing around the bar at the absolute animals I called teammates. Everyone was blasted, and Carter was being dragged on stage, the DJ cueing up a new song with our teammates throwing dollar bills at him while he stripped. I laughed when his shirt got caught on his head and he nearly fell off the stage.
“We had a private beach house for mine,” he said, shaking his head on a smile as he tilted his beer to his lips. “I remember approximately two percent of that night, but one thing I’ll never forget is waking up with clown makeup and four girls in my bed.”
I chuckled, then turned to the stage just in time to catcall Carter as he attempted some half-ass spin on the pole that made him fall flat on his butt.
“Real nice what you assholes pulled with the dinner, by the way,” I said. All the veterans had taken us out to eat at the nicest steakhouse in town before heading to the club and told us it was on them, only to hand us the bill at the end.
“Hey, just be thankful they didn’t hold you down in the locker room and shave your hair and beard off,” Jaxson said. “You never realize what an ugly sonofabitch you are until you have a naked head and face.”
Carter threw his hands up in the air like he would at a game, telling us he needed us to get louder. And as the cheer grew in volume, he moonwalked across the stage, did a spin on one sneaker, and landed in a jazz split that made me spit out my beer.
We all roared our approval, and then Carter was thrown down into a folding chair on stage, and four of the club’s dancers descended on him.
I smirked, shaking my head.
And then, just like they had all night, my eyes scanned the crowd until I found Maven.
When she’d been dragged along for the shenanigans, I was sure she’d either bow out early or sit silent for the entire night with her brown cheeks flushed. Instead, she’d fit in like she was part of the team, even throwing dollar bills at me when I was on stage.
I had no idea how she was going to find any safe-for-Instagram content from tonight. The only time I’d seen her actually recording anything was at the dinner.