Chapter 7
BEA
“You’re going to have to explain ‘icing’ to me again.
” I cross my arms over my chest in frustration.
At the other end of the couch, Violet laughs without reservation.
I reach a leg out and push my foot against her.
“I’m sorry, how many times did you ask me about offside when you worked for the football club? Can you explain it to me now?”
“Nobody understands the offside rule in soccer!” Violet catches my attempt to shove her again, squeezing my toes.
I withdraw my leg, tucking it underneath me when she turns her attention to the television screen in her living room.
The Midnight are playing in Milwaukee, the game is at intermission between the second and third period.
The commentators are breaking down the icing call against the Steel Riders just before the end of the period.
They keep on as Violet explains things to me one more time.
“Jordan Boucher sent the puck long—meaning down the ice toward Nicky—from behind the center red line on Milwaukee’s side of the ice.
Since no one touched it before it went over the goal line, it’s an icing call. Make sense?”
“It does,” I acknowledge, reaching for the bottle of beer on the side table before taking a swallow. “I’m probably going to ask again, but thank you for being so patient with me.”
“You’re welcome.” Violet shifts, leaning her back against the arm of the couch to face me.
“But it’s almost like you spend your days with someone who plays this sport for a living who could explain it to you.
” I pointedly take another drink and ignore the way my best friend’s head cocks to the side in my peripheral vision.
“Speaking of that brooding man,” she leads with all the subtlety of a fire alarm.
“You and Nicky sure seem close. I thought his false lashes were going to pop off with how big his eyes got when he saw you at the Halloween party.”
“It was just the spandex. Made both of us look good,” I deflect when she brings up that night from two weeks ago.
Even dressed in a beauty pageant gown and full glam, I spent the evening marveling at how sexy Nikita Baladin is.
The ease and confidence he carried throughout the evening, and the carefree way he danced a choreographed routine that earned the guys the “Best Costume” award.
I even caught him looking at me a few times; pupils widening as he raked his gaze up and down my body, or how they narrowed when he stared at my lips.
It lit me on fire from the inside out, making the following Monday much more challenging when I had to watch him lift weights with the film crew for an hour, my thoughts wandering inappropriately every time he grunted and pushed through a leg press.
What else could he press with those powerful thighs?
I drain the remainder of my beer then, as if I can cool the memories before I tip the bottle at her.
“This is shit. I really should just give up finding a beer I like here.”
“Now you know how I felt.” She laughs, and I join in.
I spent years trying to find a local British beer that Violet liked when we lived together, only to come up empty.
Now, it seems the roles are reversed. I’ve been here for the better part of a year, and still no luck finding anything that hits as well as the breweries in England.
Letting the reminder slip along with our fading laughter, Violet pins me with a more serious look.
“Okay, but Nicky. Is it just a flirty attraction you’re still denying, or… ?”
She leaves the thought floating, and I consider her words. The implication. I let out a sigh, making the decision to confess the feelings that have been steadily taking up residence in my mind.
“At the team facility or the arena, I can keep things professional,” I begin, inspecting my leggings for invisible fluff. “Nicky is completely focused on his job, and that helps me stay locked in on mine. Even when he’s struggled with the interview portions, I feel more like another coach.”
“But?” Violet prompts. There’s a simple hopefulness in her question, and it matches how I feel thinking about the man I spend most of my days with.
“But I want him,” I admit, the confession lifting a weight from my chest. Then I shoot a glare at my best friend when she lets out the tiniest squeak of excitement. “Piss off!”
“Absolutely not!” Violet flattens a poofy pillow between us and rearranges herself to lean over it, invading my space with a dreamy look on her face. “It isn’t just wanting him. You like him, don’t you?”
“Of course I like him!” I counter. “Have you met the man? He has the work ethic of an ox, the loyalty of a Labrador, and the gentleness of a sloth.”
“Please stop comparing him to animals. It’s weird.” Her face scrunches, and I let out a huff. My descriptions are accurate, but I concede, they’re too much. Violet props her chin on her hand and smiles. “Nicky is a good man—a great man. Someone who’s worthy of you, for sure.”
Violet’s words hit a tender spot.
Worthy of me.
It’s a concept I’ve been slowly coming to understand over the last eight months.
What is my worth, and who do I share it with?
The day Cal called, asking me to come help Violet and Crosby, it startled and befuddled me in equal measure that I didn’t have the answers to those questions.
Since then, I’ve quietly started to untangle my personal beliefs from the mess of weighty expectations and lackluster treatment I’ve encountered for my entire life.
Growing up, I learned how to navigate an existence where I was an accessory to someone else.
My parents. Boyfriends. My boss’ son. I served purposes that were entirely focused on them and how they moved through the world.
I didn’t question whether there was anything in it for me beyond the temporary quell in my deep-rooted loneliness.
I became what they wanted by quieting myself so that they would keep me around.
Befriending Violet was the first time I didn’t need to do that.
I could be myself and be loved for it. I was worthy of her friendship for simply existing.
But when Violet moved away, I fell into old habits, old personalities, and old beliefs.
I accepted hollow affection from a man who only wanted my body, and I tried to please a mother who could never be satisfied.
Moving to a new country, taking a job that brought me no social prestige, and making friends with The Midnight boys has shown me I can carve out my own, happy life. I started making decisions for me, and it has brought changes I never could have anticipated.
“Where did you go, babe?” Violet’s hand rests gently on my arm, pulling my attention back to her.
She has a playful smile, but her eyebrows pinch slightly.
“I didn’t think you could be dickmatized until you actually saw the dick, but maybe you’re just imagining the possibilities. Proportion and all that.”
I laugh, but there’s little humor behind it, even though I appreciate her attempt to lighten the mood I’ve just brought crashing down with my introspection. I cover her hand with my own, shifting so I can lean on the pillow and rest my head against hers.
“Mum’s been calling,” I tell her. If she thinks it’s an abrupt change in topic, my best friend doesn’t say anything.
Instead, Violet lets out a quiet grunt at the mention of my mother.
During our time as roommates, Violet had a front-row seat to my parents’ acrobatic skills of avoiding me and any parental recognition.
In the nearly three years we lived together, I think I could count on one hand the number of times I spoke with them on the phone or saw them in person.
Violet only ever saw them through the car window as they drove away after dropping me off from a quiet dinner, where they asked me nothing about my life.
“I’ve sent every call to voicemail, but she never leaves a message.
I figure whatever it is can’t be that important—she has a solicitor for things like that. ”
“Well, Yelena couldn’t be bothered to talk to you when you lived an hour from each other.
” Violet’s voice is full of the same indignation I feel when the caller ID pops up with Mum’s name.
“I can’t possibly understand why moving an ocean away would suddenly prompt her pathetic excuse for maternal instinct.
” Violet pulls away, looking at me with wide eyes. “Sorry, that was kind of mean.”
“Doesn’t make it less true,” I soothe. “Anyway, I bring it up because, as much as I want Nicky—as much as I like him—I need to make sure it isn’t just because he’s there.
Or I’m there. I’ve only had the example of relationships being convenient, not desired, and I’m embracing the fact that I deserve more than an office fuck.
No matter how proportional the dick is.”
We dissolve into giggles, but Violet wraps her arm around mine and pulls me as close to her as she can with the pillow barrier.
On the television, the third period starts.
The camera zooms in on Nicky, settling into his goal.
Even behind his mask and under his gear, his trademark seriousness shines through.
He’s focused as he leans over to each goalpost for a moment, then slides his skates into the freshly coated ice, creating little piles of shavings. I reach for my phone on the side table.
“What’s up?” Violet asks as I jostle her with my movements. I finish typing in the reminder and relax to watch the rest of the game.
“Just making a note to ask Nicky about what he does before the game starts in his interview with Andy this week.” I gesture to the screen.