Chapter 7 #3
“No,” I say. Even though, if I were honest with myself, talking to her last night felt really good.
I went to bed with a smile on my face and a sense of fulfillment I haven’t felt in a long time.
Also, I got a texted photo of her on one of the loungers earlier today, smiling brightly with a huge thank-you attached to the image.
I thought about saving the picture to my phone but decided that might be a little creepy.
“He’s lying.” Silas points at my face. “Look, he’s holding back a smirk.”
OC leans forward, getting a better look at my angled head. He raises his hand and points above my head. “I can confirm, he’s hiding a smirk.”
“Smirk is confirmed,” Silas says while slapping the bench with his hand.
“Then it is Blakely,” Pacey says.
“Wait, what about Blakely?” Eli asks, looking confused.
“Can we all shut up? It has nothing to do with Blakely,” I say, not wanting the entire team to figure this shit out.
But of course my friends are idiots, and they come flocking in front of me with chairs where they form a circle.
“Does this have to do with the NDA?” Eli asks. “I electronically signed it before the game. Fill me in.”
“Ah, our newest member of the Frozen Fellas,” Posey says. “Welcome.”
They all offer Eli a fist bump.
This has gotten out of control. Next thing you know, we’re going to have branded shirts, notepads, and pens for our next meeting.
Jesus, I could actually see that happening. I wouldn’t put it past Posey.
“Here is the gist of it,” Silas says, getting more involved than I expected him to.
Posey must have gotten to him. “Blakely is staying with Holmes. Holmes loves her. Blakely was offered a potential new job that could make her move, and Holmes is unsure if she’s going to take it or not.
He clearly doesn’t want to lose her because he’s madly in love.
Therefore, Posey came up with an action plan called Break Blakely where Holmes walks around with his shirt off in the apartment and does nice things for her to show her that he’s boyfriend material.
We’re in the early phases, but from the rocket in his pants today, and I’m not talking about the girth-o-nater, name courtesy of OC—”
“Thank you.” OC bows.
“I’m going to guess that the earlier phases have started to make an impact, and our friend here is feeling the effects of some female attention from his unrequited love.
And obviously, if you tell Penny any of this, we’re allowed to cut off one of your fingers, courtesy of the NDA agreement you just electronically signed. ”
“The finger thing was a holdup for me. I thought it was kind of weird,” Eli says.
“We decided losing a finger was a good threat. We kept toes for skating balance, dicks for pleasure, and hair wasn’t threatening enough. A finger was a good option. It lets you know we’re not fucking around. But there was the amendment to the finger. Did you see it?” Pacey asks.
Eli nods. “A trial of holding a stick without one finger. If it doesn’t go well, the group collectively gets to pierce the offenders belly button and add a permanent charm that shall never ever be removed.”
“Correct.” Pacey nods. “Belly button piercing with dangly, glitzy charm seemed just as offensive, so either way, don’t fuck up and tell Penny. Got it?”
With obvious strain, Eli pulls on the back of his neck and says, “I wish I’d known what the secret was about before I signed the NDA.
This is dangerous territory for me. Is there an out where I can mentally erase what you just told me and not go any deeper?
I mean, the Frozen Fellas feels like a band I want to be a part of, but given the circumstances, I don’t think I can be involved and keep Penny out of it. ”
“I think that’s fair,” Silas says. “All in favor of excusing Eli from this discussion and all discussions involving Blakely and Holmes, say aye.”
As a collective whole, the guys all say, “Aye,” then wait for me.
Rolling my eyes, I say, “Aye.”
“You are excused, but you will not utter anything you’ve heard to Penny regarding the Frozen Fellas and Break Blakely.”
Eli holds up his hand as if he’s on the stand and swearing in to trial. “I shall keep my mouth shut.”
“Good,” Pacey says, and Eli walks away, bringing the attention back to me. “So you talked to her last night? Did she get the furniture?”
“Yes, and yes,” I answer.
“Did you swoon?” OC asks.
“What? No. Jesus. It was nothing like that. It was a solid text convo. We joked a bit, and she thanked me for the furniture with a picture today.”
“She sent a picture?” Silas asks. “Let’s see it.”
“No, I’m not going to show you the picture.”
“You have to show us the picture,” Pacey says. “We have to see if there are any hints in it.”
“Hints?” I ask.
“Oh yeah, hints.” OC nods knowingly. “There are ways girls take pictures that can give us a good indication of their thoughts. Position, angle, clothes, expression. It all matters.”
“That’s absurd. It’s just a regular picture.”
“Says the guy who didn’t know he should walk around with his shirt off to get the girl,” Silas says. “Show us the picture.”
“Yeah, show it to us.” Pacey pokes my leg.
“It’s the only way to figure out what’s going on in her head,” OC adds.
That’s when I glance up at Posey, who’s sitting in a pulled-up chair in front of me, slowly rubbing his hands together with a smirk on his face.
“What’s with the silence?” I ask.
A maniacal smile crosses over his face. “Just pleased with myself. This is unfolding perfectly.”
“I’m out of here. I need a shower.” I go to stand, but Silas and OC grip one of my shoulders and sit my ass right back down.
“Sorry, boss,” OC says. “But we’re going to need to see that picture.”
“Yup, you’re not going anywhere until we see it.” Silas glares at me, and everyone turns to Posey, who is sitting there, looking like the fucking Godfather, ready to give the nod to have someone’s head blown off.
“The picture,” he says in a terse voice. “Show it to us.”
When I realize there’s no way they’ll let me escape without showing it to them, I mutter, “Jesus Christ,” before reaching for my phone out of my locker and finding the picture in the text. I click on the picture so they can’t see any of the text and show it.
Immediately, Posey grabs it, and the boys flock around him, checking it out.
“Hair is done. Makeup is on,” Silas says.
“Casual clothes but not dressed up,” OC adds.
“Not a sexy pose, just a selfie with a smile,” Pacey calls out.
Posey rubs his chin, then sits back on his chair. After a few seconds of studying it, he looks up at me and says, “This is . . . not a ‘please come between my legs’ picture.”
“Jesus fuck, Posey,” I moan. “Of course it’s not.”
“Well from the way you were skating today, we thought that it was a nearly topless picture of her making a kissy face at you,” Silas says. “This is just a normal picture.”
“I know,” I say, snagging the phone from him. “That’s what I told you.”
OC scratches his cheek as he says, “So if Holmes was skating that fast and possessed that much energy on the ice from just a simple thank-you picture, does that mean . . .” He pauses, trying to put pieces together in his head. “Does that mean he really is in love with this girl?”
“No,” I say as the collective group says yes.
“I don’t love her,” I reiterate. “I just have a little crush, okay?”
“Ha, little, that’s funny,” Silas says.
I peel off my socks and shin guards, then ask, “Are we done here? Because you motherfuckers stink, and I don’t want to be around you anymore.”
Posey nods to everyone. “We’re done, but I’m glad to see we’re making progress. Remember to text her tonight, but keep it simple, nothing like sweet dreams, my little ball of angel glitter.”
I cringe. “Who the fuck says that?”
“You’d be surprised by the things that come out of Silas’s mouth when he speaks to Ollie.” Posey grins.
“Fuck off,” Silas says, taking the attention off me. Thank God. “I don’t call Ollie a ball of angel glitter. She would fucking laugh in my face.”
“I think I heard you call her your pet,” Pacey says.
“Uh . . . no,” Silas says. “It’s just babe . . . and good girl.”
“Fuck, do the girls love that,” OC says.
“They do.” Silas nudges me. “When you get to that point with Blakely, remember to call her a good girl whenever you can.”
“I don’t need your fucking suggestions when it comes to the bedroom.”
“That’s right,” OC says with such conviction. “It’s because he has the girth-o-nater. He doesn’t have to say anything, just wield that thing like the goddamn orgasmic weapon that it is.”
“Stop talking about my dick. It’s getting weird.”
“Dude, we’re never going to stop talking about that canon,” Pacey says, causing all the guys to laugh.