Chapter 7
SYLAS
I check under my bed, making sure there are no stray socks or that a bottle didn’t roll down there. Minus the minimal dust, it’s clear.
I’m not doing this for any other reason but to be tidy. I realized a few days ago I should make an effort to stop being disgusting. It wasn’t my intention, but between practicing with Dad, then my team, games, and classes, cleanliness has been the last thing on my mind.
So I’m trying to amend that, or at least do better.
Now that fall semester has ended and it’s officially winter break, I won’t have to worry about homework or hockey after tonight.
We’ll have practices here and there, but it won’t be anything heavy or mandatory until the end of the month.
There’s practice with Dad, but that’s about it.
Speaking of games, I need to meet up with the team soon to review film against the school we’re facing off against.
I do a final check—again, just to be sure. Not because Anna’s about to show up to clean or anything. She’s supposed to be here around noon, I think. I’m just trying to end the year off right or whatever.
As I step into the living room, I hear the elevator door ping and slide open. Two feminine voices float around, one energetic and the other soft and raspy.
I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the memory of her throaty moans away from my mind.
“I think I’m going to have to get another job. What I make isn’t enough to cover everything,” I hear Anna say. “I think—”
She stops in her tracks, head jerking back as her gaze meets mine. Brows scrunching in and lips pinched tight, she stares at me.
“Oh, hey?” Shock rises in Jenny’s voice. “Uh…Anna.” She turns to look at her friend who’s still staring at me with a slight scowl on her face. “Did we get the dates wrong?”
“No,” I reply before she does. “I’m leaving now. I came to pick something up.”
It’s a lie, but it’s the only one I could come up with.
“Do you want us to step out?” Anna blinks and regards me again, a different expression on her face this time. I’m not sure what it is, but it’s less intimidating.
I shouldn’t have assumed, but I thought maybe seeing me would have flustered her a little, or that her cheeks would have turned that pretty shade of pink I saw Friday. But she’s not flustered nor is she blushing. Instead, she’s…impassive.
“No.” I’m so thrown off my game. This never happens. Why do I feel confused? I degraded her, but it feels like it was the other way around. “Can I talk to you?”
Her mouth parts and a divot appears between her black brows. “No, we need to get done by—”
“I’ve cleaned up a bit. It’s nowhere near as good as you do.” That sounds so wrong. Saying that makes me seem like an asshole. “But it’s, uh, clean.”
She and her friend wear the same astonished look. Still, I think she’s going to say no when the surprise wears off a second later. “We still have to—”
“It’s fine, Anna. I got it.” Jenny cuts her off, waving a hand at her to go away, and she flashes me a small smile that feels a little mischievous.
“I promise I won’t take long,” I add, hoping it’ll be enough to convince her.
She looks like she’s on the fence, but then she reluctantly agrees. “Three minutes.”
“I’ll make it two.” I smirk at her, and she glares at me like I’m a nuisance. Which is funny considering how she let me touch her Friday night, but I digress. “Mind if we talk on the terrace?”
She gives me a half shrug and zips her jacket back up. I gesture for her to go first and train my eyes on the back of her head, not letting it stray down to her ass.
Once I shut the sliding glass door behind me, breathing becomes strangely difficult. She’s beautiful in the way that makes standing in front of her hard to believe.
Her thick black hair is pulled back in a sleek ponytail, and her bangs settle on her forehead. Her olive-toned skin looks just as soft as it felt that night. And as for the rest of her, it’s probably for the best that I don’t stare too hard.
The scrunch in her nose draws me out of my reverie. “Have you been smoking?” She appears so disgusted that I feel self-conscious for a moment.
“Calms my nerves.” It’s either that or hyperventilating from a panic attack, but I don’t tell her that.
“What are you nervous about?” Her face goes neutral, but I spot the tinge of curiosity.
“I have a game tonight.” My father will be criticizing every microscopic thing I do.
If we don’t win, he’ll have me on the ice until I throw up.
Yeah, that’s too much to share with someone who I don’t know.
Someone who won’t give a fuck. Not that I’ve ever shared it before, not even my sister, Thea.
But despite how much I hate his methods, I wouldn’t be at this level if it weren’t for them.
“You know, it’s not good for your health.”
“You’re concerned about my health?” I tuck my cold hands in my pockets.
She blankly stares at me. “No. I don’t care. I’m stating the obvious. Seems like that’s something you should be worried about.”
“But then I wouldn’t have something to calm my nerves.” I lean against the glass, crossing one ankle over the other.
“There are many other ways to deal with nerves that don’t involve a cigarette.”
“Like?” I arch a brow. “What would you suggest? How do you calm yours?”
Does she even have any? She seems like a sure person, someone who doesn’t crumble under pressure.
She rolls her lips together, glancing away, and I assume it’s because she’s thinking about it, but I realize it’s to stop herself from smiling.
She sighs but I hear the tiny chuckle that escapes her mouth. “I…bake. Yeah, that’s what I do. I bake.”
It sounds like she just thought of that on the spot. “Bake like baking food or getting baked?”
Anna scoffs but smiles a little, making me feel proud that I did that. “I don’t smoke weed. At least not anymore, but that’s beside the point and not what I meant. I meant food.”
“Did you really, or is there something else? Because I feel like there’s something else you don’t want to share with me and that’s rude.”
“Rude? How’s that rude?”
“You stand there judging me for smoking a cigarette that isn’t harming anyone—”
“But yourself.” She gives me a pointed stare.
“That isn’t harming anyone,” I repeat, ignoring her.
“Then you said there are many ways to deal with calming my nerves, but you haven’t given me something solid, and your answer sounds like a load of bullshit.
I’m sure you bake, but I don’t think it’s something you actually do to calm your nerves. Or am I wrong?”
She rolls her eyes, not like she’s annoyed but like she’s been caught in her lie. “I do bake to calm my nerves but I also—We’re past the two-minute mark.” She changes the subject. “And it’s freezing out here, so if you don’t mind, I need to go back inside to—”
“I picked up after myself. I swear it’s not as bad as it used to be.” I pause and inhale, struggling to breathe again and not grab another cigarette. “I’m sorry about how I left things, but I promise from now on, I’ll be better about cleaning up.”
Her brows shoot up and she stands straighter. “Don’t worry about it. This is what I get paid to do.” She goes quiet like she’s contemplating something. “Thanks for not getting me fired.”
The tension in my body evaporates. “I told you that wouldn’t happen, but that’s actually why I wanted to talk to you. I’m sorry about three years ago. I had nothing to do with the grades or—”
“Let’s forget it happened and never bring it up. It doesn’t matter anymore. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I’m sorry about all the fuck-yous—well, no, some of those were deserved.” The amused tone in her voice widens my smile.
“And Friday—do we forget that happened, too?”
That makes her take a few steps back, the levity between us gone. “Yes. I don’t know what I was thinking. I had been drinking and—”
“Don’t say that.” I push away from the glass. “Don’t blame this on the alcohol. You know it had nothing to do with it.”
She squares her shoulders. “Yeah, okay, it didn’t, but it happened, and I’m over it.”
I’m not sure I am, and I don’t feel like she is either, but she’s shivering, and now I feel like a bigger dick for bringing her out here. Fuck, why can’t I think straight?
“Are you done?” she asks.
“Are we okay?” I ask.
“We aren’t anything. I work for you. Friday shouldn’t have happened,” she expresses with a severity to her tone. I can’t help but grimace.
“You don’t work for me. My parents were the ones who hired the company you work for.”
“Does it matter? I’m still here cleaning your home.” She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “Anyway, good luck, and let’s work on never running into each other again.”
Shooting me in the balls would have felt better than what she just said to me.
Anna goes to walk around me, but I stretch my arm out, stopping her from moving any farther. I’m nothing if not a persistent fuck. “So, what calms your nerves?”
She tips her head up, staring up at me through her lashes. I note the clear contacts shielding the surface of her eyes and how her pupils dilate just a fraction.
Her chest rises, throat bobbing, and she stretches her lips into a sultry smile. Am I seeing that right?
“My fingers.” She ducks under my arm and steps back inside, leaving me wondering what she means by that.
It dawns on me a second later.
Oh.
“So I was thinking…” Marc starts, shifting his stick from one hand to the other as we wait in the tunnel.
I always opt for silence before games, which he and everyone on the team knows.
It’s not a superstitious thing, I just prefer it.
Superstitious is the cup of tea and peanut butter and jelly sandwich I have before every game while I watch a single episode of The Punisher.
If I don’t do those things, my game is off.
“Not right now.” My gaze lands on one of the athletic training students. Her hair is tied in a ponytail. It’s not as long or as dark as Anna’s, but it’s enough to make me think of her.
I told myself I’d stop, but seeing black hair is messing with my head.
Because it makes me think of hers and how it had been wrapped around my hand.
So “not thinking about her” is easier said than done.
Her nails dug into me so deep, I not only bled a little, but I have these tiny crescent moon–shaped indentations on my skin.
I was so intoxicated with her presence, I didn’t realize how hard she was grabbing on to me until the next day.
I had every intention of forgetting her because I don’t mess around with a girl twice, and it seems she feels the same way about guys, or maybe it’s just me she doesn’t want a repeat of.
She should be long gone from my mind, but she’s the reason I came in my jeans from the slightest bit of dry humping.
Damn it to hell. How pathetic.
“Hear me out,” he continues even though I’m looking away. “Why don’t you ask Anna to bid on you?” His voice is quieter now. “It’s obvious she doesn’t give a shit about you. She’s perfect.”
“Ha ha, very funny,” I drone out.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually hurt that she doesn’t give a shit about who you are?”
“Hurt? Me? Absolutely not,” I retort. “I don’t care.”
He considers me, eyeing me up and down like he’s trying to zero in on my bullshit. “You sound annoyed.”
“I’m not, and your idea sounds stupid.”
“It’s not; it’s foolproof. Just think about it. She—and I’m not being funny—doesn’t care about who you or your parents are. So it’s perfect because she could come bid on you before you two part ways and never speak to each other again. You hate repeats anyway. You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t thank you for anything,” I answer, exasperated.
“I just gave you the greatest idea ever. You know I’m right.”
Frustratingly enough, he is. Anna already doesn’t expect anything, but I would have to get her to agree first. And I don’t see that happening. She’s adamant about forgetting I exist.
It’d be great if I could do the same.
“And maybe to entice her to do it, you could pay her…” He trails off. “Just a thought.”
I tell myself the only reason I’m entertaining the idea is so she can outbid Florence.
Not because I want to spend time with her.