12. Dash
TWELVE
DASH
I am fucked with a capital F.
Noelle Pembrooke is everything I’ve been saying tonight.
She’s smart, sweet, and sexy. I’ve shockingly let those kind words fall out all damn night.
It’s like that movie Briar used to love, the Cinderella retelling with Anne Hathaway …
Ella Enchanted . Unlike her, I don’t see it as a curse, and I don’t wanna fight it.
It’s all from somewhere deep inside, like my heart?
Fuck it, don’t care. It’s out there, and I’m not going to try to shove it back in.
She smells like vanilla and … lavender maybe?
Soft and clean. Whatever it is, it doesn’t just waft around me, it’s …
with me? Fuck, I don’t know, but when I kissed the top of her head, that wasn’t planned either.
It just happened. The whole time we danced, her smell and how she felt against me was like …
a memory I haven’t even lived yet. That kiss I planted was my way of sealing it, keeping it there until I could, in fact, live it.
Her body fits against mine like it was built to.
The silk of her dress cool under my palm, the heat of her pressed close—too close for me to think straight.
My hand found her waist, and for the first time in years, I didn’t care about the cameras, the crowd, the possibility of ending up in a headline.
Hell, I want it on screens. I want people to know I’m claiming this girl.
In fact, I know I was supposed to back then.
But I lacked confidence or, more than likely, it was just the whole college/hockey experience and the time I had to put in.
It obviously clouded my ability to see clear enough to go after what I wanted, as opposed to now.
And when her fingers rested on my shoulders? Jesus. Warm, steady. She was claiming a piece of me, too.
She isn’t fragile, she isn’t clinging; she’spresent.Grounded. Perfect. And it makes me want to hold her tighter.
The truth is, I didn’t want the song to end, either. Because, with her in my arms, I wasn’t Dash Sterling, right wing for the Brooklyn Bears, headline-maker, brand deal commodity. I was just a man who knew, just fucking knew …
The click of heels drags my eyes up, and here comes Lauren—perfect hair, perfect dress, perfect sneer . She’s been practicing that look for years.
“Are you seriously out here, waiting for her?”
“If byher you mean Noelle, then yes. Yes, I am.”
“You need to stop feeding into her poor-me nonsense, that always-a-victim-in-need-of-saving bullshit, Dash. Find someone you’re actually suited for.”
I laugh, sharp and disbelieving, because the alternative is stooping to her level and making a scene. “Are you being serious right now?”
“She’s no victim, Dash. She’s been playing that card for?—”
“If you think Noelle Pembrooke is playing a victim card, it’s because you handed her a whole fucking deck and dared her to deal them out, hoping she would. She never has, not once. She’s an amazing person, and you never wanted anyone to see it.”
Her eyes flash anger. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you get off on making her feel small. Probably always have. Only thing is, you never could actually pull it off, so you just keep trying. Newsflash, Lauren: she’s the kind of girl who never needed a spotlight.
The kind who doesn’twantit. She doesn’t need saving, but I’ve decided I’m gonna show up to play hero so she sees me . ”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she snarls, and the sound curdles her perfect face.
I let her have it, give her just a taste of what she deserves for the shit I’ve seen her pull on Noelle, and I know that’s not the half of it.
“No idea how I didn’t see it back then, but you’ve bullied her since day one.
Couldn’t stand that someone might actually look her way.
You shoved tits your parents had to put on credit for your graduation gift in my face until that’s all I could see.
And I’m done with this conversation. I’d rather drag my balls over broken glass covered in rubbing alcohol than listen to your voice anymore. ”
Her hand cracks across my face before I even finish. Stings like hell, but it’s worth it just to laugh at her.
“This is my day, not yours, not hers. Mine!”
The bathroom door swings open. Noelle steps out, eyes flicking from Lauren to me, then locking on the red mark blooming across my cheek.
Her gaze sharpens, snapping to Lauren. “Did you just hit him?”
“No!” Lauren gasps.
“So, the handprint on his face is what? He’s out here bitch-slapping himself?” Noelle’s whole body goes scarlet, and it’s not the cute kind of blush—it’s fire-red, angry.
I step in before she does something that’ll follow her around forever, take her little balled fists in my hands, and ground her to me. “You wanna take off?”
“Yeah. Before I do something I won’t regret.” Her eyes slide to the left, where the audience Lauren wanted has gathered.
“You two need to leave,” Lauren announces, louder now. “I will not be treated like this onmy day.”
Noelle blinks, half-shocked, half-amused. “Did she just kick us out of her wedding after we already said we were leaving?”
I release her fists and press a steady palm to her back, steering her away from the gawkers. “After you.”
We walk, heads turning as we pass by, whispers following. Her chin is high, but I see it—the shine in her eyes, the red creeping at the corners. I slide my arm around her and pull her into my side, knowing everyone is watching and not giving a damn.
Outside, Joel spots me from the SUV and starts creeping toward us.
He pulls to a stop just ahead of us, and I open the door and guide her in with a hand at her waist. She slips onto the leather seat and slides over.
I slide in right after, close enough that our shoulders touch, close enough that she knows I’m not going anywhere.
The door thuds shut, sealing us off from the glittering mess behind us.
Her hands are folded tight in her lap, and I want to take every bit of that tension and make it mine.
“Hey,” I murmur, leaning close. “You don’t ever have to put up with that kind of shit again.”
She nods, and a tear trickles down her soft, pale, perfect skin.
I cup the side of her face and thumb it away. “That’s all she gets.”
She nods, and another falls.
“Okay, that one, too. But, for real, that’s all.”
Her bottom lip quivers, and I pull her into a hug.
“So stupid,” she sniffs.
“Not stupid. You don’t have to pretend right now,” I tell her softly.
“You’re allowed to be upset. You’re allowed to be hurt and pissed.
Hell, youshouldbe pissed. Anyone else would’ve lost it back there, but you …
” I shake my head, marveling at her. “You did the right thing. That’s strength, Noelle.
That’s you being good even when she doesn’t deserve it. ”
Her eyes shine, but she bites her lip like she’s trying to swallow it all down.
I tilt my head, making sure she sees I mean it. “But you gotta listen up. You’re not going to do the hard stuff alone anymore. If you don’t want to lean on your girls, fine. That’s your choice. But I’m not them. I won’t wait for permission. I’ll show up, whether you ask or not.”
“They show up. They show up all the time. They weren’t invited, and I told them I needed to do this alone.” She blinks fast, a couple of tears slipping free, and I brush them away before she can.
“In case you haven’t been picking up what I’ve been putting down, I didn’t come for the Lauren show. You’re just a better person than me, and you needed closure. I came because I fucked up back then, and I won’t do it again.”
She doesn’t pull back, her lips twitching in that cute as fuck way that is sexier than any half-dressed model.
“From my whole chest, Noelle Pembrooke, had that twat …” I pause when she gasps and watch Noelle try to make herself look taken aback while fighting a grin. When she covers her face with her hands, I know she can’t fight it anymore, which means I’m in striking distance of the goal.
“Back in lit class, remember Biddy? Sweet, steady, overlooked while Pip chased after Estella?” I shake my head, staring straight at her because I need her to hear this.
“You were never Biddy, Noelle. You were always the one everyone should’ve been paying attention to.
The one with the strength, the heart, the story that I wanted to read.
I saw it then, and I sure as hell see it now. ”
“Don’t.” She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut like she can block me out. “Don’t you talk nerdy to me, Dash Sterling.”
A grin breaks across my face because I’m a lucky man, because the girl I’m going to make fall for me is not only sweet, she’s a naughty little thing, too.
“Oh, I’ll talk nerdy to you, sweetheart.
” I slide closer and drop my voice to a low rumble meant only for her.
“I’ll court you like one of those heroes in your fade-to-black books.
Make you drip for me like that coffee shop fantasy you scribbled about once.
But when it’s you and me between the sheets?
” I brush my thumb across her knuckles, slow and certain.
“I’m going to make you come so hard, so often, you’ll forget every page that ever made you blush. ”
Her lips part, a sharp inhale, and for a second, I wonder if I pushed her too far. But then she rolls her eyes, muttering something under her breath that sounds a whole lot like insufferable .
I chuckle, leaning forward toward the partition. “Need to hit up that bakery on 9 th ,” I tell Joel. “The one with the little cakes in the window.”
Joel nods without missing a beat, flicking on the turn signal.
I settle back beside Noelle, her hand still trapped in mine. “What?” I grin at her. “You thought I was going to let you leave a wedding without dessert? That’s bad luck. Practically a crime.”