Chapter 30
Thirty
KAI
Bass insists our date is “normal,” which is hilarious coming from a guy who has been recognized twice on the walk from his car to the restaurant, and who still manages to look offended every time someone says, “Great game, Morelli,” like they’re interrupting something sacred.
“You’re scowling,” I tell him as the hostess leads us through the crowded dining room.
“I’m not scowling,” he says, but then scowls harder when a table of guys in VCU hoodies start whispering his name like he is a celebrity. “And who even says that word, scowl?”
I lean into him and smile sweetly. “Okay, then, frown, glare, throw daggers at. Take your pick. All I know is if you keep doing it to your fans, it seems like a poor branding strategy to me.”
He huffs, but his arm tightens around my waist, and his mouth brushes my temple as we walk. “Do not start with all that branding shit, Vega.”
“Oh, I’ll start with you,” I say, and I tilt my head up so he has to look at me. “And I’ll finish you off, too.”
“Do you want me to fuck you in front of everyone in here?” His voice drops as his gaze flicks to my mouth. “Because I will.”
“I bet you would,” I chuckle.
“Trust me, you’d enjoy it,” he flirts, and he pulls out my chair like he’s been raised right, which is still the most disorienting part of this exchange.
We sit close to each other. Hands clasped. The restaurant is warm and dim, the kind of place where people come to celebrate something big. It’s not a usual haunt for VCU students and definitely not for us. We’re more of a coffee shop type of couple.
He slides the menu toward me, then stops and watches me instead.
“What?” I ask, already suspicious.
He taps the table once. “You look good.”
“I look the same as I looked yesterday,” I say.
He shakes his head. “You get prettier every day you’re with me.”
That makes my throat tighten, and I pretend it does not.
“Then I should probably stay with you, shouldn’t I?” I smile, and I reach for his hand, and I squeeze his fingers like I am making a point. “I’ll become drop-dead gorgeous.”
His smile is slower now, softer, and it makes him look gentler than he ever does on the ice. “Impossible because you already are.”
“You’re really pouring it on tonight,” I chuckle. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’m a safe bet. You’re going to get some tonight.”
“How could I forget?” He laughs, and his eyes flash. “I just had some this morning.”
“Yeah, you did.” I play with our interlaced fingers.
“And damn did it taste good.”
I feel the heat climb up my neck, but I don’t look away. “There’s more if you’re still starving.”
Bass’s fingers tighten around mine. “I like you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Nasty,” he says, and his voice is careful, like he’s barely holding onto a thread.
I lean forward and kiss him on the lips. “I’ve learned from the nastiest guy I know.”
“I’d better be the only nasty guy you know.”
He claims my mouth again at the table, and for someone who swore I’d never be ‘that girl’, the kind who participates in shameless public PDA––I’m loving every minute of it.
We order drinks because nobody cards a famous VCU hockey player and his girl.
Bass orders something in a highball glass that makes him look like he knows what he is doing, and I order a cosmopolitan because it was my mother’s favorite drink.
I even consider ordering two tonight as I contemplate what life will be like for me…
for us, after graduation. I love him so much, but are we strong enough to handle a long-distance relationship?
I don’t know.
When the waitress walks away, Bass tilts his head. “There you go, thinking again.”
“I’ve got a lot of brains,” I try to deflect. “I’m always thinking.”
“Not when I’m pulling out all the stops to give you a romantic night,” he tells me, and he shifts his chair closer to mine, knee brushing mine under the table. “You should be enjoying this, not thinking.”
I exhale slowly. “I am trying to enjoy this.”
“Then enjoy it,” he says, and the way he says it makes it sound like a command and a plea at the same time.
“Calm down, Morelli. I’m enjoying it,” I insist, and then I add, because I cannot help myself, “But if I’m going to be completely honest, I’m also trying to figure out how we’re going to hold onto this when we’re not in the same city.”
Bass’s jaw tightens, and he stares at me for a beat like I just punched him.
“We’re not doing this tonight,” he says.
“Bass,” I warn.
He leans back, eyes narrowing. “Kai, we’re on a date.”
“We are,” I agree. “Which is why I am bringing it up now, because I’m not going to continue to play pretend with you. It’s not good for either of us.”
“After everything we’ve been through,” his laugh is short, but it’s not amused. “You think I’m playing pretend?”
“I think you’re extremely optimistic, which is one of your finer traits,” I say, and I keep my voice calm, but my chest is already tight.
“You’re the kind of person who believes things will work out because you want them to, and unfortunately, I’m the kind of person who believes things will work out because I plan for them. ”
Bass’s gaze stays locked on mine. “I planned for you.”
I blink because that lands in a way I wasn’t prepared for.
I swallow. “Okay.”
He leans forward again. “But say what you’re trying to say since I know you won’t relax and enjoy this night until you do.”
I hold his stare, and I force the words out even though they taste like fear. “After graduation, you’re going to go wherever you get drafted or signed, and I’m going to go wherever I can get a job, and you’re acting like love is enough to close the distance.”
His mouth twists. “Love is not nothing.”
“I didn’t say it was nothing,” I snap, then soften, because I hate snapping at him. “I said it’s not a plane ticket or a schedule that matches.”
Bass’s eyes flare, and he drops his voice. “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid, Vega. You know I hate when you do that shit.”
“I don’t think you’re stupid and that’s not what I’m doing,” I say quickly, and I squeeze his hand again, because I need him to understand this is fear, not rejection. “I’m reminding you that we barely made it when one jealous girl tried to get between us, just imagine that times ten, Bass.”
He exhales slowly, then he nods once like he is trying to control his temper. “Do you think we’re barely making it?”
And as if on cue, two girls who look unfamiliar approach the table. They’re dressed nicely for the restaurant, but one of them is carrying a VCU-branded stadium bag. The clear kind you have to use when going to the football or baseball games.
“Excuse me, Bass, we don’t mean to interrupt your dinner, but we just wanted to say how we’re so excited that you guys are going to the championships. You and the other guys make us proud.”
It’s as if I’m invisible.
And it only underscores everything I’m afraid of.
“Thank you ladies.”
“Do you mind signing an autograph for us?”
Without waiting for Bass’s response, the other girl pulls a small notebook and a Sharpie out of her purse and hands them to Bass.
Pushy bitches. I do my best not to pout, but my body language gives it all away.
If I’m going to be with a hockey player, though, I have to accept that this is part of the deal.
Hell, I’m the one who encouraged him to be more accessible to his fanbase. “Good for the brand,” I said.
He signs it fast and hands it back. “Have a good night,” he tells them.
“Oh, um, you too.”
“Thanks.”
Once they’re out of earshot, I give him a ‘see what I mean’ look.
“Wait, you can’t be serious? I signed that fucking autograph because being nice to fans was part of your Bass rebranding masterplan.”
“Lower your voice,” I whisper. “I’m just saying that I think you’re asking me to trust something we cannot control. You’re asking me to believe that you’ll still choose me when things get hard and busy and expensive and complicated.”
Bass’s gaze softens, and his voice turns quiet in a way that scares me more than his anger. “I already chose you when it was hard. Don’t you see that?”
My throat tightens again.
He holds up our joined hands. “I chose you when I could have protected myself, and I chose you when the entire university could have benched me, and I chose you when you told me to leave you alone, and I did, even though it made me feel like my ribs were being ripped out.”
I stare at him because there is no defense against that. He did all of that…for me.
“I’m not saying this will be easy,” he adds. “But what I am saying is that this is the real thing for me. Something worth fighting for, no matter how hard, how busy, or how complicated shit gets.”
I look down at our hands, then back at him. “You cannot promise me that you won’t get drafted to some random city across the country or even Canada.”
“No,” he admits. “I can’t.”
“And I can’t promise you anything about where I’ll get a job,” I say, and my voice cracks just slightly. “You know I have to take the best opportunity I can get, because of my family’s sacrifice to send me here. I can only move forward, not backward, regardless of where it takes me.”
“I completely understand,” Bass nods, and he reaches up with his free hand to rub his thumb along my cheek, and the touch is gentle enough to make my eyes sting. “So we don’t promise geography,” he says, and his voice is steady now. “We promise effort.”
I swallow another sip of my pink drink. “Effort is vague.”
“You don’t trust me, Vega?”
“Trust has nothing to do with it.”
“Got it.” He smirks. “You want a plan.”
“I always want a plan.”
“Okay,” he says, and he sits up straighter like he’s about to call a play. “We do the distance if we have to, we pick a timeline for how long we do it, and we do not drift.”
“Define drift,” I say immediately.
He points at me like he expected that. “No avoiding hard conversations, and no disappearing for days because you’re mad or scared.”
I give him a look. “And you can’t disappear for days because you’re too busy signing autographs.”
“I knew you were jealous.” He gloats.
“Oh, please.” I roll my eyes.
“Listen, Vega, I’m never going to be too busy or famous to want you. That I can promise.”
“That sounded like a line,” I accuse.
“It’s true, beautiful,” he counters. “Every single word.”
I shift in my seat, trying to breathe through the warmth that spreads in my chest.
“What is the timeline?” I ask because my brain needs the numbers.
He exhales, then says, “We commit to one year of doing whatever we have to do, and at the end of that year, we choose a city together, and we choose it like adults.”
My mouth opens, then closes again. “You’re talking like you’re already in the NHL.”
“No.” Bass’s gaze holds mine. “I’m talking like I’m going to be.”
There’s no arrogance in it, and that’s what makes it dangerous.
“I’ve done my homework on the sport, Bass. Even if you’re a top draft pick, a player your age is going to be offered a three-year deal, not one.”
The waitress returns with our drinks, and the interruption is a relief because my chest feels too full. Thinking about three years apart from him sounds like hell.
“Let me worry about the details of my contract.” Bass takes a sip of his drink, then watches me. “Will you agree to the timeline arrangement?”
“Obviously, I want to, but–”
He leans in, voice dropping. “Then say yes.”
I stare at him, then I nod once. “Yes.”
Bass’s smile breaks open like he has been holding his breath for weeks, and he squeezes my hand so hard it almost hurts.
“Good,” he murmurs. “Because I’m in love with your stubborn ass, and I am not letting you off the hook just because you need a goddamn plan.”
I laugh, because it’s either laugh or cry. “I love you too.”
“Already knew that, baby.”
Our food arrives, and we eat, pretending for a little while that the future is not looming, and it feels almost normal in a way that makes me dizzy.
Bass keeps feeding me pieces from his plate like he’s trying to prove he can share, and I keep stealing his fries like I have rights, and every time his knee presses against mine, my body lights up in anticipation of how this night is probably going to end.
Me in his arms.
Him inside of me.
I can’t wait.
Halfway through dessert, my phone buzzes. I glance at it, and my pulse spikes. Bass watches my face change and asks, “Who is it?”
“Professor Murphy.”
“Then answer it.”
I swallow and hit accept. “Dr. Murphy?”
“Kai,” she says, and she sounds almost pleasant. “I have some news.”