Chapter 14 #2
Without breaking eye contact, I lowered myself down to her mat, setting my knee in the space between her legs.
Grace sucked in a gasp as I pressed my hand to the side of her leg and pushed, deepening the stretch.
Then, with the most wicked smile I could muster, I leaned down until our faces were inches apart.
“Do you remember last time you asked for a peek inside my head?” The memory of her raspy cry was one I revisited quite frequently.
I need to understand. Please, tell me. I'd never forget the sound of her pleading or the shape of her mouth as she’d uttered that five letter word. “Do you recall what came next?”
Grace didn’t speak. I didn’t think she was even breathing as I waited for a response I knew would never come. Only after the tension had thickened to a point of discomfort did I whisper, “If that’s what you really want, you’ll have to ask very nicely.”
Her pupils expanded, black swallowing the surrounding brown.
I knew that if I kissed her right now, she’d let me.
I could feel the tautness in her body; she was poised to snap at any moment.
Now that she knew exactly what it felt like to have my fingers wrapped in her hair and our bodies pressed together, it was only a matter of time before she gave in.
But first, I wanted her to suffer. I let my eyes focus on her lips for one incredibly long second, and then I was pushing away, flopping back onto my own mat feeling entirely too satisfied with myself.
“I want to know why you were so upset Thanksgiving night. And don’t say it was nothing. You were on the verge of having a panic attack.”
I shot her a look of utter disbelief at the lack of reaction. That was what she was thinking about right now? After all that?
“Share something real with me, something honest, even if it’s just this once.” Grace spoke in a gentle tone that drove away any doubt of her sincerity. And those eyes. How could I deny her when she was looking at me with such genuine curiosity?
“I got a bit of bad news,” I winced at my own words, recalling the panic that had overtaken me at the mention of my mid-year report. “Well, it was actually no news, but that’s what made it bad.”
It had been over a week with no word from Duncan.
Coach Dawson told me to be patient, but every day that went by without news chipped away at my confidence.
It was part of the reason I was so desperate to see Grace.
When I was around her, I wasn’t thinking about anything other than how much I wanted her.
“Hockey-related news?”
“I haven’t heard from my scout in a while. I usually get a progress report around Thanksgiving, but there’s been nothing.”
“Why do you assume that’s bad?” she asked, letting her eyes roam over me in a curious perusal. “What if they haven’t sent the report because they know you’ll be ready by the end of the season?”
“Or what if they haven’t sent the report because they’ve already decided to release me at the end of the season?” I shot back.
“They’re not going to let a player like you get away, trust me.”
“A player like me, huh? Would you mind telling me what that means?” I couldn’t help myself, not when Grace so rarely sang my praises.
She rolled her eyes as if she could read my mind. “I’m not going to sit here and inflate your ego; it’s already taking up half the room. You talk a big game, Seb, and you play one too. Why are you doubting that now?”
I felt a little jolt of excitement at the sound of my nickname.
“I know I’m great,” I said without a single doubt in my mind.
“But it’s not always about that. I took a bad hit and was out for a year.
Scouts get concerned about injuries like that.
” The average hockey career lasted five years for a reason: the sport was rough, and after a few big injuries, it was hard to compete at such a high level.
“You’re too good a player for them to overlook, even with a past injury.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe I have to tell you that.”
Grace’s confidence was comforting, but I was beginning to realize that it didn’t matter how well I performed on the ice or who assured me everything would be fine. Until I knew with certainty what my future held, nothing would ease my anxiety.
“Why do you train like you’re preparing for the big leagues when you’re not planning on playing after college?”
“It soothes me,” she said. “I’m a bit of an overthinker. When I have something to channel my energy into, I feel less stressed about the things I can’t control.”
We both liked control, it seemed. No wonder we were constantly at each other’s throats.
Grace walked us through the remaining movements in a comfortable silence.
At times, she’d reach over to correct my form with a gentle touch or remind me to breathe by catching my eye and exhaling through her nose.
At the end of the final stretch, we collapsed onto the mats.
My muscles were quivering from the effort of our mobility workout. Grace had sufficiently kicked my ass.
“Was it as terrible as you imagined?”
Her head fall to the side as she glanced at me. “Was what terrible?”
“Working out with me?”
Grace looked absolutely stunning like this: no makeup, rosy cheeks, hair piled atop her head, several loose strands falling along the side of her face. She was practically glowing.
“It wasn’t terrible. But you don’t seem like yourself today.”
“You don’t really know me, though,” I said with a low rumble of laughter. “Maybe I’m more myself today than I ever have been with you.”
A touch of her snarky attitude came through in her response. “Too bad I won’t find out since we agreed on just this once.”
“I thought you weren’t avoiding me.” My lips curled knowingly. Grace hated that she wanted me—refused to accept whatever this was. I knew what denial looked like after watching it in the mirror for weeks.
“Not everyone has to like you, Sebastian.” I recognized her words as a parrot of my own, from the day Grace had goaded me into a heated comment for the Dallard Spectator. My lips twitched in anticipation as I stood up and began to gather my things.
“Is that why you pushed me into the lake, because you don’t like me?” I asked, and she stilled at the question. “Or maybe you pushed me into the lake because you like me a little too much.”
With a parting wink, I turned on my heel and headed toward the exit. I was halfway out the door when another thought crossed my mind.
“Oh, and a word of advice,” I said, glancing over my shoulder. “You’re better suited to anger than you are denial. Wouldn’t you rather play with fire than pretend it doesn’t exist?”
>> <<
Grace
Sebastian was giving me emotional whiplash.
He was all I could focus on in the week following our training session.
One moment, I’d be lost in a daydream about his lips, and the next, I was resisting the urge to smash my own head against the wall for having such ridiculous fantasies.
I could still hear his voice like a haunted whisper.
Or maybe you pushed me into the lake because you like me a little too much.
He got off on teasing me and seemed intent on pushing my buttons until I was forced to shove back.
But something about his parting words felt like a warning.
Wouldn’t you rather play with fire than pretend it doesn’t exist?
I needed to remind myself that Sebastian would do anything to win this bet.
After all, he didn’t have to like me to fuck me.
And yet, even when taking into consideration his past grievances, it was a tempting offer.
I couldn’t deny our sexual chemistry. For whatever twisted reason, my body came to life in his presence.
Would it be so bad to give in? The thought alone sent a jolt of excitement through my body.
One more taste couldn’t hurt, not if I didn’t let it.
But that was the problem, I realized. How could I be sure it would only happen once?
“I am not watching that.” Caroline’s voice dragged me out of my introspection—I kept losing myself in thoughts of Sebastian. It was exhausting work, all this overanalyzing. That was why I’d suggested a movie night. I needed the solid distraction that only horror, true crime, or sleep could provide.
“I promise to let you snuggle tonight if you’re too scared to fall asleep.”
Lydia was only half teasing. The last time we’d convinced Caroline to watch a scary movie, she’d made us sleep together in the living room under a massive pile of blankets. The girl could do anything she set her mind to with only three hours of sleep, but she couldn’t make it through a horror film.
“Why can’t we just put on New Girl and gossip about boys,” Caroline suggested. “We can bore Lydia with our problems as penance for being in a loving, healthy relationship.”
Being stabbed in the eye sounded like a better way to spend the night. “I’m in desperate need of a distraction,” I admitted. “And Hereditary is one of my favorite movies. It’s not that bad, I promise.”
Lydia caught my eye from across the couch with a barely concealed smirk. We both knew that wasn’t entirely true, but if Caroline was ever going to get over her fear of horror, she had to face it head-on.
“What’s on your mind?” Lydia asked dramatically, flipping through her sketchbook as she tried to settle on a project to finish.
“Family stuff,” I said. “My sister is still pretending I don’t exist.”
“If it makes you feel better, my brother called me twice yesterday, and one of the times it was to ask me how to boil spaghetti noodles,” Lydia said.