Austin
This weekend is the first time I’ve been around Viv in almost eleven months, and it’s gone about as well as you’d expect.
We have successfully avoided each other at work since she ended our…
arrangement. The separation has been easier than I anticipated because she’s been off the road recovering from an injury.
At least, that’s what I tell myself. But we knew running into each other this weekend was unavoidable.
Two of our closest friends are getting married, and there was no way we’d miss Maddie and Drew’s big day.
Maddie was Viviana’s roommate from freshman year of college, and Drew and I have been friends since high school.
He was my biggest supporter when I decided not to go to college and pursue a life in wrestling.
The duo met three years ago at a pay-per-view show where Viv began her first major championship title run, and I lost mine.
Viv and I had always been friendly, but never anything more than a casual nod in the hallway or a quick hello at an event until two years ago.
I caught her eye across the pool table at the bar a few of us hit up after the show.
Her narrowed gaze watched my every move, only half listening to the conversation at her table, and when she realized she’d been caught, the right corner of her lips lifted slightly, followed by her brow, urging me to finish the game.
The look in those brown eyes stirred something in me—a hunger, you could say—awakening something I couldn’t properly name at the time.
Sinking the last striped ball into the left corner pocket, I looked up, but she was gone.
I watched her backside as she casually swam through the crowd toward the back hallway, and before I knew it, I sank the eight ball in the side pocket and dropped the pool stick, following her.
That was the start of our arrangement…Neither of us wanted anything serious, just a way to let off a little steam, no strings attached.
When I got a call from Drew last July asking me to help him ring shop because he wanted to propose to Maddie on their Labor Day trip to the mountains, I never thought Vee and I would be in this place.
I thought we’d be living the high life, celebrating the union of two of our closest friends.
Instead, she can’t stand being in the same room as me.
As soon as I received the invitation in the mail six months ago, I knew this weekend was going to be tense and awkward as we navigated this new territory as exes—if you can even call us that, ex-flings (permanent booty calls?) might be more appropriate.
The moment I saw her walk into the rooftop bar last night, I knew I was in trouble…
A tight pair of shorts that showed off the delectable curve of her ass.
A white tank top kept riding up, revealing the tanned skin of her stomach beneath a hot-pink blazer that signified her as part of Team Bride, as if the white across her body wasn’t enough.
Keeping my hands to myself while undressing her when we got back to my room was the hardest fucking thing I’ve ever done in my life.
But I’m nothing if not a gentleman, and I wouldn’t take advantage of her in that state.
She was drunk off her ass. None of the girls were in any shape to watch out for her or themselves, and I refused to let any other groomsmen near her.
I’d already decided to bring her back to my room before Drew suggested it as we watched her and Maddie stumble with laughter at something one of them said.
However, this morning was a different story.
My dick strained at the sight of her before me, watching her pace the end of the bed.
Her milky skin was barely covered in her black lace bra and my sweatpants, and she raked a hand through her hair as she paced.
Her brown hair was shorter than I ever remembered, the ends just long enough to kiss the tops of her shoulders.
And the image of her riding me—tits bouncing with each movement of her hips, her fingers delicately playing with the sensitive bundle of nerves—infiltrated my mind before her words of panic cut through the mental image.
It had been a struggle to regain control over the blood rushing to my lower brain, but I’d done it…
because the last thing I needed was her knowing I had a hard-on thinking about screwing her senseless right then and there. She would’ve killed me.
Viviana ended things between us on a Saturday night, simply citing the reason as being done with the arrangement.
She ended things over a text message from the other side of the country and didn’t give me a chance to ask questions.
She avoided me backstage on Monday night and every night after that.
Anytime I tried to get a second alone with her, someone would swoop in and save her.
Later that month at Clash of the Titans, the November pay-per-view, Viv was injured in a street fight match with Savvy Skye for the women’s title.
The two women were exhausted; they’d beaten each other to hell, and it was coming down to the wire.
Savvy landed three chops on Viv’s chest, sending her into the barricade, before taking hold of Viv’s hair and tossing her into the steel steps of the ring.
Viv should’ve loosened up to prepare for impact.
Instead, I watched from the monitor backstage as she planted her left foot and her leg twisted in the opposite direction.
That was only the initial blow, and I could tell that something was wrong from the way her face twisted in agony, but she didn’t stop.
Viv finished the match, which included taking a few chair shots to her injured knee, before Savannah finished it off with a chain rope.
Needless to say, Viv didn’t walk out of there on her own and refused to let me help when I tried, accepting help from Miles Drake instead (that fucker).
At the time, it seemed odd. Miles was known for being the backstage asshole.
He always inserted his two cents where it didn’t belong, and Viv detested him.
When we were putting on a show, Mile was known as Damian “The Anarchist” Drake, and sometimes it felt like he blurred the line between reality and fiction.
“She doesn’t want to talk to you, Austin,” Wolf Bennett, whose real name is Bennett James, said as I watched Miles lift her onto the backseat of the golf cart. “Harp says they’ve been talking, whatever that means.”
My head whipped to the side. What did he mean they were talking? Harper Valentine was Wolf’s fiancée and the biggest gossip backstage. If you wanted to know something, you went to Harper, but there had been plenty of times she was wrong…I could only hope this was one of those times.
“Don’t shoot the messenger.” Wolf chuckled, lifting his hands in surrender. “You had your chance, and you blew it.”
“Shut up, Bennett.” I rolled my eyes and walked away. What did he know? What did any of them know?
Viv had surgery two days after that, and there hasn’t been so much as a whisper about her return to the company. But at least I know she and Miles aren’t together because he’s been back to normal for a while now, sleeping with the ring rats—groupies for wrestlers—in almost every city.
“Why won’t you just talk to her?” Drew asks, bringing me back to my current position. The server sets the bill presenter between us, and we both reach for it, but I win the fight. “Oh, give that here!”
“No,” I say, and stuff my credit card into the presenter. I slam it shut with extra oomph just for good measure.
“No, to which?”
“To both, I suppose,” I say with a tight smile and hand over the check to the waiter.
I know I shouldn’t have let Viv leave without talking this morning.
It was probably my one opportunity to get an explanation about what happened…
and I let it slip right through my fingers.
The thought has plagued me all day, knowing the truth was right within reach and I didn’t take hold of it when I had the chance.
After the rehearsal brunch, the wedding party was released from our duties, free to do whatever we wanted.
The bride and groom’s only request was not to have too much fun since we had an early morning of preparation ahead of us.
I walked down the Strip, hoping to clear my mind of the woman at the far end of S. Las Vegas Boulevard.
It didn’t work. Everywhere I looked, there was a happy couple. It was inescapable, and each one begged me to turn around and finally tell Vee everything I’ve wanted to say the past few months.
When Drew called and asked if I wanted to grab dinner at Hell’s Kitchen, I thought that might do the trick…
It didn’t.
“Austin,” Drew says, catching my attention again. “It’s been what…a year? Isn’t that enough time for the dust to settle and talk about things? Seems like fate is giving you the chance to fix things this weekend.”
Guess I’m not the only one who thinks so. Or at least to talk about what happened.
“Dude, what happened? I thought you were trying to lock it down.”
“I was…She wasn’t interested.”
“Did you tell her, or did you just say okay when she ended things?” Drew sits back in his chair, hands laced together over his stomach.
“She didn’t say anything, she texted me.”
“I know, you’ve said, but you never get past that part. What happened?”
Our arrangement became complicated when our lives began to intersect more and more.
Our best friends were dating and getting married.
I’d taken her home for my brother’s birthday.
She’d taken me home for Thanksgiving. “We’re just friends,” we’d say when someone asked, but I think everyone saw right through the lie.
There was something there, something more than just friends, but I was too scared to admit it…
and when I was ready, she’d already moved on.
“I’m going to take that as a no,” Drew says, shaking his head. “Look, Ace, it’s time to pull your head out of your ass and do something. Either move on or tell her how you feel.”
I smile at the old nickname and sign off on the bill when the waiter returns, throwing a one-hundred-dollar bill in the presenter. Sitting back in my chair, I swirl the remainder of my whiskey in the glass and sigh. “I have moved—”
“Don’t finish that sentence.” Drew tosses another twenty-dollar bill on the table and points his finger at me. “Don’t you dare, because we both know you’re lying.”