Chapter 32
TALLY
Igrip the edge of the vanity and repeat my new mantra. “It’s going to be great. No one will say shitty things to your face.”
My phone buzzes with a call. I glance at the screen. It’s my mom. The shit has really hit the fan since my trip to Montreal last week. She knew I was going, but the ensuing social media shitstorm has shed new light on Flip, and my mom is kind of freaking out.
I answer on the third ring. “Hey, Mom.”
“Hey, sweetie. You doing okay?” The worry in her tone tells me either she’s been online, or my siblings have.
“I’m good. I’m just getting ready for the gala I told you about.” It’s for the special needs hockey program. A wholesome family event with me on his arm is a lot different than a night out at a club. Hemi’s hoping it will mitigate the media heyday around my relationship with Flip.
“Right. Yes. That should be fun.”
“Yeah. My friend Rix will be there, and a few of the other hockey WAGs.” I rub some anti-frizz serum between my palms and finger comb my curls. “How are you?”
“Good. Okay. Still worried about you.”
“You have to stop looking at social media,” I say gently. Pictures of Flip and me have surfaced and gone viral—including one strangely angled photo made to look like I was sandwiched between Flip and Quinn. But thankfully none of us in the dark corner.
“It’s not intentional, honey. Your sister sees things, and you know kids.” She sighs. “I just want you to be in a safe and healthy relationship.”
I bite my lips together and roll my eyes to the ceiling.
Not because I’m annoyed with my mom. It’s the media and their absolute obsession with Flip’s love life that’s the problem.
Not to mention all the women who are happy to slide into my DMs to tell me all about their experience with my boyfriend.
The number of accounts Hemi has blocked for me has been unreal and I’m now on a social media hiatus.
“I’m sorry, Tallulah. I don’t want to tell you how to live your life,” Mom rushes on.
I realize I’ve been up in my head. “I know you’re worried, but I promise the stuff you’re hearing about from Fenna and the truth are two different things.
Phillip is protective and respectful. I promise.
” I change gears because this is a hamster wheel I don’t need to take a ride on. “Why don’t I come for dinner tomorrow?”
“Fenna has cello until five.”
“I’ll come after. I can meet you at home.” I’d go to Fenna’s cello practice, but my sister doesn’t need the bullshit that will come with that.
“Okay, baby. That sounds great. Will you bring Phillip?”
“He has practice and a game the next night.” And he does not need to field Fenna’s questions. Or my mother’s.
“Of course. That makes sense.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow, when I’m on my way.”
“Okay. I love you, Tallulah.”
“I love you, too, Mom.”
“Have a good time tonight and be safe.”
“I will.”
I end the call, swipe mascara over my lashes one last time, and survey my reflection in the mirror. A dress arrived yesterday from Flip. It’s pale blue, gauzy, flowy, and modest—nothing like the slinky dress from last week. It makes me feel like a princess. His princess.
“You’ve got this,” I tell myself as I slip my feet into my heels and grab my clutch.
“Rix will be there. It’s a family event.
People won’t ask inappropriate questions.
” The number of girls on campus who have asked me if the rumors are true this week has been astounding. Where are people’s boundaries?
I compartmentalize all over again and head for the door. Now that the hockey world knows we’re dating, it will be impossible for him to stay under the radar. Thankfully I’m done with campus life soon.
I shrug into my coat, grab a catnip mouse, and throw open my door.
Flip is on the other side, poised to knock. “Great timing.”
He slips inside as Parsnip comes down the hall, meowing excitedly.
“Am I running behind? I thought I was coming to you.” To avoid him being mobbed.
“I didn’t want to wait.” Parsnip puts his paws on his leg and butts his hand with his head. “Hey, buddy.” He gives him a scratch then wraps his arms around me, pulling me against him. “How are you?”
I sink into his embrace, relishing the calm that comes with the contact. “I’m okay. Good. I’m good.”
He pulls back, brow furrowed. “Have you been staying off social media?”
“Yeah.” I nod fervently.
He arches a brow.
“I promise.”
He takes my hand in his. “You seem edgy.”
“I’m just nervous.”
“About what? Talk to me.”
Getting out of this building without him being mobbed or someone asking us an awful question, for starters. I fiddle with the lapels of his suit jacket. “The media will be there, and they’ll have questions.”
“They’ll be focused on the kids and the goals of the program,” he reassures me.
“Okay.” I exhale some of the worry. “That’s good.”
“I’m sorry this week has been stressful.” He presses his lips gently to mine. “And I’m sorry we haven’t had much time together.”
Aside from Flip stopping by the studio with coffees a couple of days ago, this is the first time I’ve seen him since his return from the away series. We’ve both been busy and time hasn’t been on our side. “At least we’re together now.”
“Mm. I want time where I don’t have to share your attention.” He cradles my cheek in his palm and drops his head, slanting his mouth over mine.
A few delightfully toe-curling seconds later, I find myself pressed against the wall, Flip’s knee between my thighs. My body is already hoping for things that won’t happen until later.
“I knew this dress would be perfect.” Flip pulls back, eyes hot. There’s a slit up one thigh. “I can take the edge off for you.”
“By edging me?”
He drags his fingers up the inside of my thigh. “You’ll be nice and relaxed when I’m done with you.”
“Don’t tease, Phillip.”
“Not tonight, I won’t.” He slips a finger inside my panties and skims my clit.
I whimper.
“Such a pretty sound.” He pushes my panties to the side and eases a finger inside me.
The relief is almost instantaneous. My shoulders relax against the wall and I arch my back, pushing my hips out. Flip’s gaze darts between my face and his hand moving between my thighs.
“If you add another finger, I’ll make more pretty sounds for you,” I bargain.
“Is that right, kitten?” He withdraws, but before he can suck his fingers, I grab his wrist and bring them to my lips. I keep my eyes on his as I take them in my mouth, swirling my tongue around them, tasting my own desire.
He smiles darkly as he pushes them deeper and kisses my cheek. “That’s my dirty girl.”
I moan at the praise and suck. He withdraws them from my mouth and slides them back inside me, pumping and curling as he grips the hair at the nape of my neck. His mouth covers mine, swallowing down all my needy sounds.
“I missed you so much this week. It’s worse when I’m in Toronto, but I can’t be with you,” he whispers, almost plaintive as he adds a third finger, thumb strumming my clit.
“It’s torture,” I agree. “I just want to be close to you.” I’ve been bereft all week. I’ve lived in his hoodie and slept in the shirt I took home with me from Montreal.
“I can never get enough of you.” Heat funnels to my core as he pushes in deeper. “So fucking gorgeous when you’re stretched around my fingers.”
I moan, and my legs shake as my hips swivel.
“You’re so fucking soft, kitten.” His eyes darken. “Soon I’ll fuck you with my tongue and swallow down all your cream.”
I come in violent, desperate waves. His arm circles my waist, and I sink into his hand, moaning his name and ride it out. I never want it to end, but eventually the spasms subside, and my body goes lax.
He withdraws slowly, then brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean while humming contentedly. I use the wall to keep me propped up while I calm my breathing.
“Feel a little more relaxed now?”
I nod, still dazed, then glance down at the prominent bulge pushing at the front of his dress pants. “But you look stimulated.”
“I’ll calm down. Your needs are my top priority.” He kisses the end of my nose. “We don’t want to be late.”
“Shouldn’t you wash your hands?” I ask as he helps me into my coat.
“Absolutely not.” He opens the door, tosses a catnip mouse, although Parsnip is nowhere to be found, and ushers me into the hall.
I’m grateful the elevator is empty when it arrives, but we pick up a group of students two floors down.
“Flip Madden! Holy shit. Someone said you’d been on campus, and I thought it was total bullshit, but you’re here. In like, res.”
“Just picking up my girlfriend.” He wraps a protective arm around me.
I can’t even appreciate the fact that he’s called me his girlfriend because I’m terrified someone will say something that makes him want to punch them in the face.
“Right. Yeah.” The guy’s gaze moves to me. “That’s like, wow.”
“Want me to sign your hat?” Flip nods to the Terror ball cap he’s wearing.
“That would be awesome.” He passes over his ball cap, and Flip pulls a Sharpie out of his pocket. He signs stuff for the rest of the guys—with the hand that was between my legs—and by some miracle, we manage to escape my apartment building without another fan run-in.
“You really might need to come up with a disguise now that we’re out in the open,” I say once we’re in his car and he’s navigating Friday evening traffic. “Or I can just meet you off campus or in the parking lot, like I was supposed to.”
“I can handle a few fans,” Flip assures me. “And the novelty will wear off.”
I hope he’s right, because spending the rest of the semester being the hot topic on campus does not seem fun. “Things amp up during playoffs, though,” I remind him.
“We’ll figure it out.” He threads his fingers through mine. “There’s a treat for you in the glovebox.”
“Because the dress that showed up at my apartment wasn’t enough for tonight?”
“I wanted us to match and I didn’t want it to be something you had to worry about since I know the workload this semester is intense.”
“I love the dress.”