Chapter 28 #2
Then the TV time-out comes. The Jumbotron switches from replays to crowd shots, and it’s followed by the Kiss Cam.
A cheesy heart-shaped frame appears around random couples, and everyone cheers while strangers make out for the camera.
An older couple pecks sweetly, and the crowd awes.
Two guys in matching jerseys kiss, and the arena goes wild.
A woman grabs her boyfriend’s face and really goes for it, tongue and all.
And then the camera finds Jameson and Kendall. At the top, it says Re-Kendall-ed …
The heart frame surrounds them, and the crowd starts chanting, “KISS! KISS! KISS!” because everyone knows who they are.
Coach Hart’s daughter and her ex-fiancé—how romantic. The whole arena loves a good love story.
“Don’t do it,” I whisper, watching.
Jamie turns to look at her. She’s smiling that polite, public smile I’ve seen her give reporters and strangers, and he says something I can’t hear.
She laughs and shakes her head, and the crowd chants louder, stomping their feet, demanding a kiss.
He whispers something in her ear before cupping her face, going for it.
What happens is not lips pressed together for half a second to satisfy the camera.
His fingers slide into her hair, tilting her head back, and his mouth opens against hers.
I can see the moment their tongues meet because her demeanor changes, softening into him.
Her hands grip his shoulders like she needs something to hold on to.
She arches into the kiss like she’s starving for it, like she’s done this a thousand times before, like her body remembers exactly how to fit against his.
His thumb strokes along her cheekbone while he kisses her deeper, and she lets him, melting into his chest. From here, it looks like she’s lost herself.
The kiss goes on and on. Three seconds. Five.
Seven. The crowd is cheering so loud that the boards vibrate.
Her fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, and I can’t breathe or move.
I’m frozen on the bench with my water bottle halfway to my mouth, watching my brother’s tongue memorize my girlfriend’s mouth on a fifty-foot screen while twenty thousand people celebrate.
When they break apart, they stare at each other.
Something passes between them, and it looks private. They’re both breathing hard, eyes locked, and then Jamie smiles at her. It’s real, the way he used to smile at her. And she grins back, her lips swollen, looking like a woman who remembers what she’s been missing.
The camera cuts away to another couple, and my teammates are talking beside me, but I can’t hear them over the blood rushing in my ears.
“Your brother’s a lucky guy,” Hunter says, elbowing me. “She’s hot as fuck.”
I don’t respond. I stare at the ice and try to breathe through the anger spreading through my chest.
“Look like a couple; don’t act like one.”
That’s what we agreed to. Even Jamie agreed.
That looked like two people who replayed two years of history in a single kiss.
The whistle blows, and I have to go back on the ice. My legs feel like they belong to someone else as I skate to the face-off circle.
Damien finds me thirty seconds later, skating too close, his breath hot through his cage.
“Holy shit.” He’s grinning so wide that I can see it through the metal. “And all this time, I thought Kendall was yours. Shit, Patty. Are you two sharing her?”
I focus on the puck and the play.
“Didn’t he have her first anyway?” He laughs, bumping my shoulder as we circle for position. “No way that was fake, my brother.”
“Shut the fuck up, Blackwell. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Just running your mouth to be a little bitch. Per usual.”
“Hit a nerve?” He stays glued to my side as we skate toward the boards. “Must be hard watching your brother take his girl back. Some things never change, huh, Patty?”
The puck drops, and I throw myself into the play, trying to outskate the images in my head. Her hands gripping his shirt. His fingers in her hair. The way she opened her mouth for him.
Damien shadows me the whole shift. Every time I touch the puck, he’s there. Every time I try to get open, he’s in my face.
“I’ve been thinking about her a lot, you know. She’s the kind of girl that buries herself in your head.” His voice is low, meant only for me. “Ever since New Year’s. You remember New Year’s, right? When she was all over me at Billie’s party?”
I keep skating, acting disinterested, even though he’s pissing me the fuck off.
“She told me things that night about your brother.” He’s enjoying this. “About what she likes. Said Jamie was too vanilla. Too gentle. Said she needed someone who would actually fuck her.”
“Really? Wow. You think I really give a fuck what she said to you? I don’t.”
“Oh, you do.” He laughs. “She would’ve fucked me that night. She was dripping, Cross. Soaking through her underwear before I even got them off. Oh, and these little desperate sounds she made, like nobody had touched her in years … I dream about that. She was basically a virgin again.”
I pass the puck to Callan and skate hard behind the net, trying to lose him, but he follows. He’s right at my shoulder, still running his mouth, but I don’t pay any attention to him.
“When I shoved my fingers in her, she thanked me like a grateful little whore.”
The whistle blows. Stoppage of play. I skate toward the bench, but Damien follows, still spewing poison.
“But now she’s been passed around your whole family, hasn’t she?
First your brother and then you. I’m convinced you’re going to give her to the rest of your teammates when you’re finished.
” He raises his voice. “Does Coach know his daughter’s a puck bunny?
Or does he pretend not to notice when she spreads her legs for his best player? ”
Callan appears at my elbow, grabbing my arm. “Walk away, Cross. He’s baiting you.”
“That’s what she is, right? A whore who’s desperate to date a star.” Damien’s still grinning. “Team slut who’s probably fucked half the roster since January.”
“Patterson.” Callan’s hand is on my chest now, pushing me back. “Look at me. He’s trying to get in your head. Don’t give him what he wants.”
I can barely hear him. My vision is narrowing to a single point, and that point is Damien’s smug fucking face.
“Your brother’s up there right now.” Damien tilts his head toward the stands. “How does it work? He fucks her while you watch. Then you both tap out? Aw, you’re always the backup, Patty. Must be exhausting, being second place your whole fucking life.”
“Walk. Away.” Callan shoves me toward the bench. “Think about what matters.”
I take a breath, then another, and turn to walk away.
“Can’t wait to take your record, then take your girl,” Damien says.
“Say it to my face,” I say.
“How’s it feel?” He skates up behind me. “Being second choice? Being the twin nobody actually wants?” He shoves me with both hands, square in the chest. “How’s it feel to know that every time she fucks you, she’s wishing you were him?”
He gives me another shove, and it’s harder this time. Two times is enough.
“You’re a fucking placeholder and—”
I don’t remember dropping my gloves.
I don’t remember grabbing his jersey.
I only remember his face under my fist, over and over, the crunch of cartilage, followed by the hot splash of blood on my knuckles. Someone’s screaming, and hands are pulling at me, but I can’t stop. I won’t stop because no one is going to talk about Kendall like that.
The refs drag me off.
“You’re done!” the ref shouts. “You’re out of here!”
Damien’s on the ice with a broken nose. I’m breathing so hard that my vision blurs at the edges.
I skate toward the tunnel as the arena buzzes with shock. My teammates stare at me like they don’t recognize me, and honestly, I don’t recognize myself either.
The locker room is empty, and I sit in my stall with my head in my hands while Damien’s blood dries on my knuckles.
My phone buzzes, and I don’t look at it before I turn it off.
I hit the showers, staying under the scalding water until my skin is raw. By the time I’m dressed and heading to the car that’s waiting for me, the game is over. We won. I lost. I don’t care.
I don’t even remember the drive to The Park.
I’m let out in front of the building with my game bag in my hand.
When I walk into my penthouse, I don’t turn on any lights.
I pour myself a whiskey and sit on my couch in the dark.
My mind replays the Kiss Cam until I want to put my fist through the wall.
An hour later, a knock comes, but I don’t move.
It’s quickly followed by another one.