Chapter 17 Dylan
Dylan
Rocky grabs my helmet and shakes it. “A girl is waiting for you out there,” he mutters, and I’m confused.
“What?”
“Some bitch wants to wish you good luck. She’s asking for you.”
Scott starts making a head bobbing motion, and I throw my hand in a jerk off motion, pretending my come just splattered against them all.
He stops the motion, satisfied, as I walk out, expecting to see long legs with a phone in one hand and a little purse in the other. But it’s not Cecily.
“Marina?” I question, surprised.
“Hey,” she lights up. “Sorry. I wanted to wish you good luck tonight. I tried to catch you before you went out.”
“Yeah, uh.” I scratch my head. “The way to the stands is around and through the doors on that side of the building.”
She nods, smiling at me. “Okay. Yeah. Bet.”
“Okay,” I stare awkwardly. It’s only her and me in here. “Thanks. I’ll see you out there.”
I turn on my heel to walk back, but she calls out, “Hey, do you want to get a quick bite after? I bet you’re starving after a game.”
“Sorry. I already have plans. Rain check?”
She nods. “No worries. Yeah, rain check.”
I turn around and walk back to the locker room, wondering how she built the nerve to get me out there alone before a game. When I get back, the guys are chattering.
“There he is,” Scott says. “Take notes, fellas. He’s getting more action lately than any of us.”
I shake my head.
“What did the mermaid want?” Rocky asks.
I look at him, confused. He knows her? I say, “To wish us luck.”
They all laugh.
“That’s all?”
I nod, needing to save her the embarrassment. “Yeah.”
Scott watches me like he knows I’m lying, but I’m not feeding into whatever bullshit ego he has going on.
When we’re warming up on the ice, I don’t expect to see Marina’s face right there in the stands, but there she is. Damn. I feel her eyes on me as I skate around and start doing stretches.
When the game starts, I keep looking in her direction. Some stupid part of me hopes to see Cecily sitting next to her.
Third period, I’m slammed against the damn boards like a rag doll. Ref calls a penalty, and I’m limping off the ice like a dog with its tail between its legs. Fucking hell.
The guys give me shit in the locker room, but Matt and Harvey back me up. I hear nothing but white noise.
When I’m back at the house, Westley retreats to his room. I pull out the chicken that Cecily made for us before the house party at Rocky’s and heat it in the microwave.
First, I take a pic of it and send it to her.
Dylan: Do you think this is still good to eat?
Cecily: Yeah
I stare down at her one-word text message while I eat the chicken.
Dylan: How are you feeling?
Cecily: Stressed. Overwhelmed.
I take a couple more bites of the food.
Cecily: Oh, you mean that. I’m okay, Dilly. Thank you.
I send her the cow emoji, and then I clean my dish and limp to my bedroom. I lie in bed and stare at my phone for the next hour.
Once the shower frees up and I’m sure there’s finally hot water, I take a quickie and then head back to bed.
The team text thread is blowing up right now with all the shit the team needs to improve. I don’t need any of the negativity or shit right now. Instead, I catch up on some sleep and fall asleep with my bedroom light on.
When I wake up, my ankle is throbbing. I made that promise to Cecily to always show up, so I force myself to get up and get ready.
When I show up at the gym, my eyes search the treadmills, finding our spot but Cecily nowhere in sight.
Cold hands cover my eyes from behind, and I smile.
“Moo,” I say playfully.
“Boo,” she says, releasing me.
She takes one look at me and asks, “Are you okay?”
I lift my ankle. “Check it out. Maybe a sprain. But I’m still here.”
“Shit, you could’ve texted me you need to cancel.”
I shake my head.
“How was your game?” she asks.
I walk with her to the treadmills and say, “We won, but number twenty-nine came out of nowhere and plowed through me. I hit the boards. It was a whole thing.”
“You should go home and rest, Dylan.”
“Nah,” I mutter. “I’ll spot you, then I can go home.”
She looks down at my ankle. “You could relax and read some smut,” she teases.
“Shh,” I joke, looking around.
“Nobody’s here,” she whispers. Her eyes flare.
“Yeah, but…” I pat my chest where my heart is. “It’s my deepest, darkest secret.”
She nods, turning on her machine. For a second, I glance down at her ass in those tight biker shorts, her long legs, and the way she rolls her shoulders back.
“You’ll never guess what,” I say, stepping onto the treadmill next to hers and leaning against the arms.
“Scott finally got his ass handed to him?” she asks.
I laugh, shaking my head. “No, nothing about Scott, unfortunately.”
She points her finger, wagging it around. “Would you want to prank him? We should prank him.”
I laugh. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
“So, what is it?”
“Marina visited before the game.”
Cecily’s eyes meet mine with a spark. “She did?” she asks, surprised. “Why?”
“To wish me luck and… to ask me out to dinner.”
“No,” she mutters, stunned.
“Yes.”
“Wow. Did you say yes?”
I cross my arms, relaxing my ankle. “You think I said yes?”
“Yeah, sure. Why not?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I made up some bullshit lie that I had plans and told her to rain check.”
“Are you attracted to her? Is she your type?” she asks.
I stare into the distance. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Do you think she’s pretty?”
I shrug. “Pretty awkward. Pretty weird. Sometimes pretty annoying.”
She chuckles at that.
“How was your meeting last night?” I ask, changing the subject.
“It was good. Did you watch my Stories?”
“I was wiped after the game, so no.” I pull out my phone to watch them. The first is Cecily, in a mirror selfie video, talking about her morning routine. Then there’s a photo of her breakfast. It looks delicious. Then a photo of her green juice.
“No pulp in this one?” I ask, showing her.
She laughs. “No pulp.”
The following image is her at dinner with a friend—selfies, wine glasses, the sunset, and she’s dolled up.
“Looks like a romantic dinner,” I say, shoving my phone back in my pocket. “Were you drinking wine?”
She chuckles. “No. It was sparkling water.”
“Clever.”
She rolls off the treadmill and says, “It’s full body today, and you, sir, are not allowed to touch a thing.” She looks down at my ankle again. “Have you gotten it looked at?”
“Just by the PT. They told me to rest.”
“And I am telling you to rest, too. You should go home, Dylan.”
“Nah,” I mutter. “After you.”
She walks ahead of me, and it takes every aware cell in my body not to look down at her ass.
Like clockwork, Marina walks into the gym when Cecily settles at the bench with a couple of dumbbells.
“Hey, Dylan,” Marina says, walking over. “I’m surprised to see you here. You took a brutal hit. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m good,” I say as Cecily starts her set, ignoring us.
“Hope your ankle heals fast,” Marina says.
“Thanks,” I say.
“I’m gonna go this way.” She does an awkward bounce, and instead of watching her face heat up, I stare at the dumbbells in Cecily’s hands.
“You can push more,” I say to Ce. “Pick up the pace. Don’t sacrifice your form.”
She ends the set, out of breath, but hasn’t broken a sweat yet.
“You are very motivating with your words, smut. You should become a personal trainer. I already know who’d hire you.”
When I glance at Marina, she’s already looking at me. I quickly look the other way. “Awkward.”
Cecily smiles. “She knows good eye candy when she sees one.”
I try not to look at Cecily’s chest, but my eyes don’t care. I look anyway.
“Careful there, smutty,” Cecily teases, watching me in the mirror.
I cross my arms, staring back at her. “Moo.” I raise my brows to elongate the ooh.
She starts pushing hard as she changes the subject. “I’m being blackmailed.”
I look at her instead of the mirror. “For what?”
She holds the weights above her head, slowly letting them down. The exercise isn’t easy, but watching her do it makes it seem effortless. “For my contacts.”
“That’s not good,” I say carefully because I realize now that she’s not exactly talking to me. I think she’s pushing heavier weight out of frustration. “Push harder,” I encourage. I get right at her eye level. “I said, screw the person who’s blackmailing you and push!”
She’s stronger suddenly, pushing with perfect control. Then she drops the weight on the ground. I step to the side as she paces, out of breath.
I take her seat and start doing the same exercise.
She runs over and grabs the weights from me. “Strict orders from the boss. I’m the boss. Your body needs to rest.”
“Just a little pump. Come on.”
She shakes her head, grabbing the weights back.
Fuck. She catches me staring at her ass in the mirror.
Without standing up, she looks over her shoulder. “Smut, you’re staring again.”
I stand, walking over to her. “Can you give me a new nickname?”
She shakes her head, standing up to face me, but still below my chin level. “No,” she says, and I can smell the mint in her breath. “Take a selfie with me.”
She stands in front of me as we both stare at the camera.
I could be a douche and flex right now, but it’s not my style, not when she has that many followers.
I would if it were private just for her, though, which is what I decide to do next.
I steal her phone and take a selfie from my height, flexing my arms to steady it.
Fuck, I look good. Does she know how good I look? Because damn.
“I’m over it today. Let’s get you home. Elevate your foot, apply ice, and get yourself healed. I can’t go all week without a gym partner.”
“I’ll tell Scott to replace me,” I joke.
“No. I don’t need him to grab-ass in here. Plus, you have a big game this weekend, don’t you?”
I follow her out of the gym and say, “Are you ever going to come to a game?”
She chuckles. “Yeah, I’ll go this weekend and watch you sit on the bench.”
Damn, she has a point.
I parked right next to her, so we walk to her car and stop.