10. Not interested in the slightest
10
Not interested in the slightest
Exton
I twist and turn on this couch that is at least two sizes too small for my body, for what seems like the hundreds time tonight, but still sleep doesn’t take me. Not that it should yet seeing as it’s only ten o’clock and nowhere near my usual bed time. But Electra disappeared into her room right after Severin left and hasn’t come out yet, just like all the other nights before.
Not that I wanted her company— I didn’t —but it’s boring as fuck here. And where usually at this time I’d be hitting the clubs after a game, I’m staring at the wood plank ceiling and breaking my back on this stupid couch.
I did try to watch TV, but as soon as I turned it on, the said Outlaws game was on…and they were winning. Without me . And something twisted in my gut, something I’ve never felt before.
They shouldn’t be doing so well without me. They should be biting their knuckles for benching me. I’m the best they’ve got. But as I watched them play, I felt a million miles away from them. From that ice and the team I called home since I first started playing.
Hockey was my salvation from the hell I lived in. It covered the scars that ran a little too deep.
Until I lost that too. Until the hate I carried in my tattered heart couldn’t keep at bay anymore. Until one phone call broke through the cracked wall and ruined the only good thing I had left.
I shut the game off and fought really hard not to smash the TV into tiny pieces. It’s not even my fault I’m no longer there. It’s fucking Zima and Alice who just had to jump into that fucker’s bed.
We weren’t an item. She was just a convenient puck bunny, and I couldn’t care any less who she slept with apart from Yanis Zima.
She knew how much I hated the guy, and she went to him for that reason alone. I’m sure of it. Because a week before he made the announcement to me at that game, I refused to put a label on us. Well, I actually laughed in her face and told her to get fucking lost.
And she did…on his cock, which he made very known to me that day. And that’s what set me off.
Sure, it was absolutely stupid of me to react to his taunts like that. Yes, I should have known better but when my switch flips…it’s game over.
And Yanis fucking Zima just knows what buttons to push. He’s known it from a very young age and has exploited them since I met him in junior league.
So now, instead of slashing through the ice, drowning in the most satisfying sweat, and getting high from every puck we put in, I’m banished to babysit an angry elf while the team is having the time of their lives without me.
I plop onto my back, sighing when I hear my phone vibrating on the coffee table.
Unknown Number flashing on the screen.
The other reason for my current predicament.
When is he going to finally get the memo I’m not interested in anything he or his asshole clients have to say to me.
But just seeing that number flashing takes my already sour mood to a whole new level. I punch the decline button and turn around, giving my back to the phone but then another loose spring in this stupid couch digs into my bicep and it was the smallest trigger, the last drop in this already tipping jug of pissed off, to flip the switch.
I jump off the couch, sending my fist into the cushion again and again, as if that will help anyone. When I’m done, I gather my blanket and my phone with that taunting missed call still on it and set off down the hall.
I don’t bother knocking as I send the door to her room flying open but just as fast, I freeze at the sight in front of me.
The anger that was coursing through my blood as a sizzling hot fire, is now a dying amber as I drink her in. Her nearly black hair is piled on top of her head, in a messy-looking bun with just those low-cut bangs barely reaching her long, dark eyelashes. Her slender, delicate neck that is now fully exposed to my eyes. And fuck, since when do I find slender, delicate necks—specifically hers—irresistible.
So irresistible I’ve got this deep-rooted knowledge burning into me, like it’s part of my DNA that if I don’t have my lips, my teeth on it, I might die.
With every fiber of me I know I shouldn’t look down, but I do and cast myself into hell because her very hard, dainty nipples are poking through the white tank top she has on which also does nothing to hide the generous curve of her tits.
My blood starts to hum. My throat is dry as if I hadn’t had a drink in a year. My heart is hammering inside my chest as if I spent the whole day running the toughest drills on ice. My legs feel weak—and they never do.
And Electra fucking Monroe looks like that drink I need, the medicine I should take for the heart, and the resting place for my fatigued muscles.
Fuck…what the hell is this?
I don’t see her like that. I don’t . I don’t see anyone like that.
“Exton! What the hell?” she squeaks, pulling her heavy-looking quilt over her braless tits, trying to hide from me. But it’s too late because I already got an eyeful that I’m not sure I’ll ever forget. “What are you doing in my room?”
Fuck, why did I come here? What am I doing here apart from destroying some cells in my brain?
But then my eyes travel back to her face where I’m greeted with a nasty glare and my memories come back. Right, no more sleeping on the devil’s couch.
“Technically, I’m not in your room. I’m standing at the door,” I point it out to her as I lean against the doorframe.
Electra rolls her eyes. “Tomato, tomahto. So? Why are you here?”
“I like your bed.”
Electra very slowly raises those magnetic eyes to mine.
Oh, hell…they are not magnetic! They are the enemy’s eyes, okay, Axe? Repeat after me, e-n-e-m-y! The kind that drives you bonkers and prays for your death. Except, she doesn’t feel like one.
Not after today. Not after that game.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She narrows her gaze at me, suspicious as fuck and for yet another unfathomable reason, my dick gets even harder. Because yes, I already have a raging erection for this angry elf.
“It means that I’m going to sleep in it.”
“Like hell you are!” she shoots back, her whole posture growing stiff.
“Haven’t you done enough for one day?” I roll my eyes at her petty attempt to use my flying puck as a jail free card.
“Admit it, you liked it.”
“Is delusion your coping mechanism?” Sure as fuck seems to be. Not that I’m admitting to that.
“Next time we play, you have to actually guard the net, not just yell.”
“There will be no next time,” she says but the words don’t ring as true as she’d like them to.
“We’ll see.” I grin with mischief, shaking off my conflicting and very much unwelcome thoughts and stroll inside, still clutching my own blanket to my chest and now there is no way I’m letting go of it. It’s bad enough that I know I got hard for her.
No need to give her any new ammo.
“Stop right there!” She gives me a stern warning when I’m just at the foot of her king-size bed. It’s not the kind I’d imagine this fallen star to have. It’s not light and airy with princessy curtains around it. No, it’s just a simple warm wood frame that matches the overall look of her cabin, and it’s the perfect height for her to move from her wheelchair and back.
Her nightstands are slightly taller than typical, and I can assume it’s to make it easier for her to reach for things on them.
The chandelier on the ceiling and the light fixtures on the nightstands are matching pieces, made from wood and cream materials. Nothing extravagant or modern like my own apartment back in Boston, and for some reason, I feel a sense of warmth here that I’ve never felt at my place.
Or anywhere else.
It actually feels like a home. One where families gather, with lots of kids and laughter.
I don’t think she’s done any of this, though. It was probably all left behind by the previous owners. But still, it’s rather taking me by surprise how comfortable I feel. And freaks the fuck out of me too.
I’m not one for any of that. I never was and don’t see myself changing that. Not when my mind is a broken mess and my heart has ice covering its many bruises.
“Axe.” She snaps her fingers, pulling me from my thoughts.
“Did you just call me Axe?”
“Yeah.” She shifts in her spot. “Why, I’m not allowed to call you by your stupid nickname?” She tries to make herself sound defiant, but her fingers betray her when they start tucking in some lose strands of her hair.
Why did calling me by my nickname make her uncomfortable? Does she think I wouldn’t allow it? Well, that couldn’t be further from the truth, because suddenly, for that same unfathomable reason, I find my eyes tracking her plush, strawberry pink lips, waiting for those three letters to roll off them.
“You are. You can call me whatever you like,” I tell her as if it doesn’t matter to me—which it really shouldn’t—and start moving again only to be stopped, again.
“I did not say you could move, Axe. ” Her icy eyes are on mine and the way she says my name, it sends a fucking shiver over my body. A visible one.
I shake it off, swallowing the lump in my throat and keep walking to the other side of the bed. “Well, I’m not about to stand here, freezing my ass off.” I drop to the bed, her firm mattress a welcome change from that couch out there.
It’s not actually cold here, but how else am I going to explain that weird feeling that I still can’t get rid of? Oh, and the constant plea rolling through my head.
Say it again. Say my name like that again. Say it.
I need help. That’s all I’ve got for you. Maybe my reality has finally gotten to me and messed up my head beyond repair.
“Oh my god! Get out of here!” She lunges for me, trying to push me off the bed, but since her legs aren’t working and she can’t support her body like she used to, Electra just plops down on her side, right next to my naked chest, like a lifeless doll, and lets out a strangled growl.
“Good try, cripple. Next time, use your legs, that might help.” I pat her head in what should be a patronizing motion, but when my fingers come in contact with her silky, soft hair, they linger there, relishing in the touch.
Bloody hell, first her neck, now her hair.
I’m done.
“I hate you,” she mumbles in the mattress and using her hands lifts herself up back into the sitting position she was in, her eyes trailing over my bare chest as she does so.
“You cannot sleep here,” Electra declares, folding her arms across her hard nipples.
Maybe I agree with her, given my weird reaction right now, but you see, I have this toxic trait. If you tell me I can’t do something, I’m gonna do it.
And if she tells me I can’t do something, well…I won’t just do it, I’ll make sure to rub it in too.
“What’s wrong, little star? Afraid you won’t be able to control yourself and climb me like a tree in the middle of the night?” I arch one eyebrow and relish in the pink tinge over her cheeks. “I am quite tempting.”
The pink is still there, but so is her inner bitch as she raises her unimpressed gaze my way. “The only thing I might be tempted to do is kill you in your sleep.”
“Then I think we are safe. Because A, you won’t be able to reach me without actually using your legs. B, trust me, I’m not interested in the slightest. I’ll keep to my side. You keep to yours and as soon as you get up and walk, I’ll be gone from your boring life.”
Only I’m a filthy liar, because when she suddenly shuts off the lights with a dainty little remote without another word and the whole room is bathed in darkness apart from the moonshine coming through the small window on top of the headboard, I find myself tracking her every breath and movement.
Even with my back to her, I’m too aware of her body lying next to mine. I’m too aware that simply being in her presence somehow calmed the raging storm inside me. It shut off the hate and bitterness and deep-rooted anger I first walked in with.
What is it about her? Sure, any idiot can see that Electra Monroe is hot as fuck. I mean, look at my own friend who couldn’t keep his eyes off her.
But I saw that the second she opened her door. Yet this weird ache didn’t take root until…until earlier today when my puck hit her legs.
That sound…it pierced through me and found a nice place inside.
And when sleep takes over me, I fall into the abyss to the sounds of her bone-deep pain, and I find myself looking for her, only catching small glimpses of her dark hair, her empty icy eyes, the tips of her fingers. But I know it’s her. And then I hear a crack.
Loud. Deadly, and so cold. My hands are reaching out on instinct, grazing her skin but she just falls through the sharp cracks, and then I’m downright running through the dark waters when suddenly everything stops.
It all freezes like in a frozen hell, and I know she stopped fighting. I feel it and I plunge after her, pulling her out from the icy waters.
“I’ve got you…”
Electra
Trust me, I’m not interested in the slightest…
I wish I could turn around and sleep with my back to him, but that’s not my reality. What was once my favorite sleeping position is now an obstacle.
Back at the hospital, I was given a special body support pillow to sleep with, but that thing pissed me off the first night and I threw it away. So here I am, on my back, and my best form of defiance is turning my head away from him and switching the lights off before I allow my emotions to show to the world. Before I can dissect why it hurt way more than it should have to hear Exton freaking Quinn say it.
I know he has no interest in me.
And I don’t have any in him either.
But the way he said it, it wasn’t because I’m disabled. It was a man talking to a woman. And for a second, I desperately wanted to be just a woman who could catch his eye. Because he doesn’t see me as actual cripple. He doesn’t use that word with venom or contempt like Erik did. For him, it’s simply a statement and somehow that makes me feel whole.
Like it’s okay to be in this chair. Like I’m no different from any other person out there with two healthy legs.
But I’m an idiot who’s looking for something that’s not there. And never will be.
I don’t even attempt to fall asleep at this time because the faster I do, the sooner those icy waters drag me down. The sooner the nightmares plague me. That unmistakable slash of the ice. The biting cold of the arena. The cheering from the crowds. It’s all the same every night, and no matter how many times I try to wake myself from this dream that’s more like a prison, it never lets go.
So, I lay awake for a long time, and normally, I read, watch TV, do anything until my body gives up and my eyes close without my permission. But tonight, as soon as the lights are off, I find myself plunging into dreamland right away.
I find myself falling through the rigid, sharp ice, falling deep and fast into the icy waters. I find myself screaming, thrashing, and I know…I know there is no one to save me there and once that realization hits me, I stop.
I stop fighting.
I only freefall. I allow the ice to take me.
But then something takes hold of me. In the deep end of this frozen prison, something warm and solid breaks through the ice, gripping onto me with all its might until I’m no longer cold or scared.
Because in the sea of death…suddenly I’m not alone.