Chapter 26
You Hold My Hand, and I Want You to Hold My Heart
Aria
“I’d forgotten how big this inflatable snowman was. And how creepy.”
Harp nods. We’re standing next to each other in the snow, risking frostbite, and staring at Paxton’s house. The bass is booming so loud down the entire street that I feel like I’m about to take off.
“You wanna go in?”
My teeth are chattering, and there’s nothing I’d like more than to finally get my bare legs into this darn house and start moving, but my body doesn’t react. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I’m too nervous.”
Harp sighs, places both hands on my shoulders, and turns me toward her.
“Listen, A. I don’t know how you put this together, but you look totally hot in this wool-sweater-schoolgirl-skirt-and-Converse combo thing you’ve got going on.
But if we stay out here any longer, our legs are probably going to have to be amputated, and that wouldn’t be… pleasant. Okay?”
I take a deep breath. “Okay, let’s go, or okay, amputation?”
“Okay, let’s go.”
The snowman’s looking impassively down as we make our way past and step inside.
Back in high school I used to come to Paxton’s parties frequently.
We thought we were pretty damn cool with all the beer we weren’t legally allowed to drink, our games, and the good whisky from the Hilcons’ cabinet.
Man, awesome stuff, we used to say, although, to be honest, we really would’ve preferred to spit the stuff out than have it burn our throats.
We thought we were super bad, but, man, was that kiddie stuff compared to today’s party.
A real NHL party—the phrase alone makes you imagine tall, half-naked, and perfectly built supermodels with so much makeup on that you don’t know whether the girl you’re talking to has a bad fever or is simply wearing too much blush.
Strobe lights are flashing, everything’s filled with colors, everything’s loud, and everything’s absolutely unreal.
The first thing I notice is the DJ, who has set up his mixer on the kitchen island, nodding along with the beat.
He’s sucking on a straw that’s sticking out of a bucket.
I don’t even want to know what’s inside it.
“Now I remember why I didn’t want to come!” I shout over the bass.
Harper turns away from a brunette who’s feeling up one of the players, Xander, I think. My best friend looks at me quizzically, so I add, “Hockey parties are too much!”
Her eyes blaze. “Welcome to Aspen, A.!”
I let my gaze wander and notice that the majority of those present are, in fact, women showing off their bodies on the dance floor, pressing themselves against guys’ chests. Some are riding them while making out on the sofa in the corner, next to the big potted plant.
Harper looks toward the ceiling and over the mezzanine with the glass railing, behind which an obviously very drunk woman is riding a broomstick up and down the hall for some unknown reason, cackling.
“I really don’t want to know what she’s on,” Harper mumbles, turning away and pushing through the crowd.
“Harp!” I reach out my hand and tug at the delicate fabric of her silk dress. She tosses her smooth hair over her shoulder and turns. “What are we doing here?”
“What do you mean?”
“This!” Extending my arms, I take in the whole room. “I’ve been here, done it, Harp, and what did it bring me?” She is about to interrupt, but I shake my head. “I don’t need this a second time!”
“Aria! Wait!” Harper cries and gets in my way. “Don’t get sidetracked. This is a party, and it’s really going off, true, but think about the texts he sent you and your calls. You really think he’s just some weirdo who wants to lay puck bunnies and nothing else?”
I take a look around. “Are we at the same party, or are you in some parallel universe?”
“Man, Aria, come on!” Harper rolls her eyes, grabs my wrist, and pulls me past the couches to the makeshift beer stand. “Have a Bud Light. If you still want to go afterward, I won’t object, promise.”
I skeptically accept a red cup. “Just one?”
She nods. “Just one.”
For a little while I watch the foam before I raise my eyes again. “Okay. But I’m going to be mad if you don’t stick to it. Seriously. I’m going to go to your house and put Pinocchio stickers all over your walls so that every morning when you see his nose, you’re going to know that…”
“There he is.”
“Pinocchio?”
“No, you dope.”
“Who?”
“Paxton.”
“Where?”
“In the Whirlpool.”
“In the Whirlpool?”
And, indeed, through the glass door to the terrace, I see Paxton sitting alone in the hot tub with a red cup in his hand.
“No women licking his chest, I see.”
Harper nods. “They tried, I’m sure, but he fought them off, waiting for you.”
“Good, Harp.” I take another deep breath. “I’m going over there.”
“You ready?”
“No.”
She gives me a thumbs-up. “Awesome. Good luck.”
The red cup’s dented on both sides. I’m gripping it so tight. It’s been so long since I last flirted. Eight years, to be precise. I don’t even know how to do it anymore. What if the rules have changed? What if I’m making a fool of myself, and he thinks I’m some kind of freak?
I set off and manage a few steps before it becomes clear that the space between the sofa area and the open kitchen isn’t a dance floor but an oversized air-hockey field where I’m the puck.
There’s no other explanation because everyone, and I mean everyone, bumps into me with their shoulders, with their hips, and oh, here’s some hair whipping into my face, and, how nice, a peach-colored butt twerking against my hand, great.
My Bud Light spills over, covering my hand and leg with sticky beer.
The field is reluctant to let me go, but eventually I’m standing next to the Jacuzzi staring at Paxton’s chiseled and very naked chest. Reaching the terrace, I could have sworn I saw someone next to him. But in the next second I realize it’s just the gloomy tree trunk on the lawn next to him.
I’m holding onto the red cup like a trophy because, well, we made it through the battlefield together. I feel a little strange standing there, half of my face illuminated by the spotlights under the roof, the other half shrouded in darkness.
Paxton turns halfway to the left to grab a beer out of the cooler but starts so violently at seeing me that he spills it over his arm.
“Just happened to me, too.”
He blinks. “What?”
My eyes dart to his arm. “That.” I try to put on a smile that doesn’t seem forced. “Funny, huh?”
“Umm.” He looks around as if trying to find someone. Maybe the joke. “You’re here?”
Is he serious? “Why shouldn’t I be?”
“Well…” He runs a hand through the wet hair. “Wyatt is here, too, somewhere, and…”
Oh. Oh. That might be a little problem.
“And you’re afraid of him catching the two of us together?”
Paxton is holding onto his cup, eyes wide, mouth open, staring at me. He looks like he truly has no idea what’s going on here.
“I’d be stupid not to.” He gives a dry laugh. “Shit, Aria. You were at the exhibition game, and Wyatt lost his shit when the others simply asked who you were.”
I lower my eyes and shift my weight from one leg to the other. “Then why did you invite me?”
“I… Wait, what?”
“You invited me.”
“I definitely did not…” he groans.
I blink. “Everything all right?”
“Yeah, I…” Another groan. The cup slides out of his fingers and falls into the water.
Lips pressed together, he digs his fingers into the edge of the hot tub and closes his eyes.
Then, opening his mouth, he releases a whole volley of moans until he bends back, throws back his head, and says, “Fuck yeah!”
My brain is working in slow motion. And then I realize what’s going on.
I see the silhouette under the water, the bubbles as the woman emerges, a lascivious grin on her lips, her wet blond hair sticking to her face.
She brushes it aside as she straddles Paxton’s lap and shoves her tongue down his throat.
My cup falls to the ground, but neither of them is paying any attention to me.
Suddenly I realize that what I saw was her, not the tree.
When I was coming outside, she was going underwater.
How can anyone hold their breath for that long?
Having said that… Our exchange was fairly short. Maybe a minute, tops, and…
God, Aria, stop! This can’t possibly be happening right now. He invited me. He wanted to see me. He’s the one who’s been texting me all these weeks, talking to me on the phone, making me feel special and unique, just to get me over here to this over-the-top party and get a blow job in front of me?
“PAX!” One of his teammates appears in the open door, a hockey stick and puck in his hand. It’s Caden. “Yo, Pax. Wanna go shoot some goals out on Silver Lake? Jennet and his girls want to watch.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Owen and Samu are in.”
Paxton tears himself away from the blond and bends forward to peer around his teammate into the house. “And Xander?”
Caden waves his beer bottle through the air. “Upstairs. With the brunette.”
Paxton’s eyes dart back to me, but not in a good way, not with a look like he didn’t want to leave me alone or explain or, no idea. No, it’s like I’m some kind of uncomfortable factor he’d like to get rid of as soon as possible.
“Cool, I’ll be right there.” He pushes the blond off his lap and swings up over the side.
He grabs a towel off the back of a lounge chair, wipes himself off, and tosses it back onto the table.
Walking past me to follow Caden, he actually raises his eyebrows at me.
One time. Up-down. See you, Aria. It was nice. Now hit the road.