HAYES
Once I got that text from Aeris, I drove like a speed demon over to her place. I ran a stop sign and almost flattened a kid on his bike, but I had to see her. Her text was vague.
I kill the engine with a twist of my key, hearing it scantly sputter to a stop. I unbuckle my seatbelt, but I don’t open my door.
She’s just a girl.
She understands what I’ve been through.
You’ll find another.
I want her.
With a final groan, I make my way to her doorstep, rapping my knuckles against the off-white partition. I feel like I’m gonna puke.
Is she going to break things off? Did I somehow find a way to screw up another good thing in my life? Maybe the date was too much for her. Maybe things were moving too fast.
When she doesn’t open the door right away, I knock continuously until a meow sounds from the other side, then I’m hit with a pall of warm air.
There, standing in front of me, is a sight that I’ll never tire of seeing. Aeris, at that five-foot-one height of hers, looking up at me like I hold all the answers to the world. This time, though, she has her hair in a messy bun and a tiny, cotton pajama set on.
Okay, I don’t know why I expected her to sleep in a head-to-toe onesie like some kind of moth in a cocoon, but this is a new development.
I’m enraptured by the way her long lashes flutter against her brow ridge, how upon closer inspection, I can make out a freckle on her collarbone. The shorts are, um, short. So short that I can’t help but ogle at her creamy thighs. And Jesus, the neckline of her top isn’t leaving much to my imagination. Her large tits pillow over her bra cups, ones that I distinctly remember looking good in that corset the first night I met her.
I shake my head, swallowing the boulder in my throat. “Are you okay?”
There’s a red rim around her puffy eyes, and her cheeks look flushed.
Has she been crying?
She bites down on her lip, not pulling away until it’s a shade darker. “I’m okay,” she squeaks unconvincingly, opening the door wider so I can come in.
I take in the sight of a half-eaten carton of ice cream on her coffee table and a black-and-white cat cantering over to me. Ice cream is a code red. At least, it is in the Hollings household. Faye only breaks out the hard stuff when she’s really hurting inside, like when her spineless ex-boyfriend broke up with her over text. I may or may not have gone over to his house that night and broken his nose.
“You’re scaring me, Stacks.”
“I’m sorry.”
There it is. Those two words send a grenade the size of Texas spiraling into my chest. She’s made up her mind. This will probably be the last time I see her, speak with her.
But then she continues talking.
“For scaring you,” she clarifies, walking over to the couch and patting the spot next to her.
Oh?
I follow her like a puppy with its tail between its legs. I wait to let her speak, but it feels like she’s taking an eternity to get the words out.
She finally sips in a full breath.
“I’m sorry I haven’t texted you all week. I wanted to—I did. I’ve just been…nervous about starting something with you.” She fidgets with the hem of her tank top. Her fingernails are short and slightly bloody, like she’s been chewing them to the quick.
“I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything,” I immediately blurt out.
“I know.”
“Okay.”
“I wanted to tell you that…” She trails off, and even though the gloss over her eyes is hardly noticeable, it still sends a sucker punch to my gut.
“You don’t have to—”
“I want to give this thing between us a chance.”
Come again? Did she just say what I think she said?
“A-are you sure?” I ask her, failing to camouflage the confusion blending into my words.
She nods her head, and there’s a warmth tucked away in the saffron flecks of her eyes. God, she’s so beautiful. I want to spend lazy afternoons counting the freckles on her face, then see if she has them anywhere else on her body.
“I’m—that’s great.”
Ever since we shared that dance together, things have been becoming more and more real. This is the first time I’m not thinking about my hockey career or my reputation. All that exists in this moment is me and her.
I can tell my words don’t seem to assuage her fear, so I grab her hand, squeezing her palm and breezing my thumb over the back of her knuckles. She lets out a small gasp from the contact but doesn’t pull away. Those kissable lips of hers jack up into a small smile—a smile that I’ve missed seeing for the past week.
Aeris is heartbreakingly appetizing in all the right ways, like an addiction in the making. I’m starving for a single taste of her—whatever she’s willing to give me, even if that means I’ll be on my knees for whoever knows how long.
“I thought you were gonna break it off.” I chuckle awkwardly, already starting to feel heat rise in my cheeks.
“Oh, uh, no. Sorry if it sounded that way.”
“You never have to apologize for what you’re feeling. Ever,” I whisper, moving my hand to caress her cheek, wiping away the leftover water lingering beneath her eye. “I want you to feel like you can tell me anything, okay? I’m here for you. Whatever you need. I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
“Thank you, Hayes. I-I want to be able to open up to you; I’ve just been hurt in the past.”
She’s been hurt in the past? Look, I have no idea what dickmuppet broke her heart, but if I find him, I have no problem giving him a one-way ticket to the ICU. Aeris isn’t even technically mine, but I already feel this possessiveness over her that scares me.
“I’m so sorry, Aeris,” I say, and it feels like the air has gone cold around me.
She shrugs away from my hand. “It’s okay. I just don’t really want to talk about it.”
I rest my arms in my lap, though I’d much rather be holding her. “That’s okay. What do you want to do?”
And then she looks at me, and those whiskey-colored eyes drop to my lips.
“I want to kiss you,” she breathes.
All my blood rushes south, and my dick twitches against the grain of my jeans. As much as I want to kiss her right now, I know her emotions are all over the place, and the last thing I’d ever do is take advantage of her.
“Let’s rediscuss that kiss when you’re feeling better, yeah?”
A disappointed frown makes its debut, but she nods in agreement.
I cup both sides of her face, pulling her into me so I can kiss her forehead, and then I walk out of her house with a renewed sense of hope humming in my bones.
15
DRINK OR DARE
AERIS
Drink or Dare: a rite of passage for twenty-somethings, and a surefire way to get drunk.
Or: a fool’s way into spilling their guts.
When Hayes told me that we were going to hang out with the guys tonight, I was expecting a movie and some snacks, but nothing this hardcore.
“Guys, this is Aeris. Aeris, these are the guys,” Hayes introduces us.
I wave awkwardly to the room full of ripped, intimidating hockey players. I was nervous to meet them before, but now I’m one ill-timed comment away from panicking.