Chapter 24
Hazy
Hazy would do whatever he could to ensure his best friends were happy.
Maybe the thought of his two favorite people being in any sort of serious, committed relationship made him want to hurl himself into the sun, but he adored them.
They were perfect. They liked similar things.
They had similar senses of humor. They were both stunning.
Lover would be supportive of any life Livy chose, whether that meant staying home and taking care of babies or working until death.
Livy understood the hockey lifestyle. On paper they fit.
The concept of them as a couple provoked a deep sense of dread.
He knocked on Livy’s bedroom door a few hours before her date.
When she answered, he invited himself in and dumped his armload of fabric onto the bed.
“Here.” He handed her the blue dress Lover had picked out. “I had to estimate on sizing a little.”
“You got me dresses?” Livy asked, her voice breaking. She didn’t reach for the dress.
He waved it at her. “Yeah. If you’re going to do the whole dating thing, I thought you’d like to feel a bit more like... you.”
She sniffled as she accepted the dress. “You’re doing too much for me.”
Hazy said, “Don’t make it weird. I wanted you to feel confident and pretty. And your current wardrobe is not it.”
“God, it’s really not.” Livy tugged the fabric over her head.
While she put on her dress, Hazy went to work digging through her belongings. He tossed a pair of faux sheer, fleece-lined tights to her.
“You might be outside, and it’s fucking cold.”
She followed his orders without argument, which was unusual for her. Images of her obeying other orders flashed in his mind before he stamped them far, far down.
She tugged the dress into place and frowned. “I can’t wear a bra with this.”
Hazy laughed, vindicated. “I knew you would say that!”
“Then why am I wearing this?” she asked, shoving her arm down the front to adjust her boobs.
“Lover liked it. And I thought it would look good.” Hazy shrugged. He picked out a pair of short black boots for her to wear and then dug through her little jewelry box.
“Ugh, fine. It’s pretty.”
She sat on the chair at her desk and slipped her feet into the ankle boots, zipping them up at the sides. Hazy moved to stand behind her and flipped on the curling iron to heat while he did her makeup.
“I can do my own makeup,” Livy argued.
“But I haven’t gotten to do it in ages,” he whined.
“Because you’re kinda bad at it,” she said.
Hazy took offense. “That’s not fair. You have more practice than me. If I did my makeup, my team would call me crazy. I’m forced to survive on good grooming and a hot bod to attract anyone.”
Livy pressed her lips into a line. “You should let me do the makeup.”
“I have a whole vision. Let it happen.”
She checked the time. There were still two hours until Lover would pick her up.
“We have plenty of time if I fuck it up,” Hazy prodded.
She gave a hesitant nod.
Hazy did a mini-celly at the win. He moved two vases of flowers out of the way to find Livy’s makeup bag.
“The flowers are out of fucking hand,” he said.
Deliveries had arrived throughout the day. If Hazy wasn’t so damn annoyed, he’d find it adorable.
Livy smiled. “It’s cute. You said he’s never had a girlfriend, right?”
“He still doesn’t have a girlfriend. A first date doesn’t constitute a relationship.” The words girlfriend and boyfriend in relation to Livy and Lover gave him acid-reflux.
“He’s trying. Which is more than can be said for most guys.”
“He’s going to be the best husband for someone someday,” he said.
“Someone.”
“Yep.”
“But not me?”
Hazy dug through Livy’s makeup bag and thought through his words carefully, not wanting to seem pessimistic. “I don’t think so, no.”
“Why?”
He couldn’t answer without giving away his jealousy. Laying out the products he would need, he softened his voice to say, “I don’t know.”
Livy stayed quiet after his answer, her eyes never leaving him. He focused on picking out her makeup. When he came across the same eyeshadow palette she’d had as a teenager, he pulled it out and waved it around dramatically, desperate to lighten the mood.
“Um, Livy?” he asked. “Why the hell haven’t you changed eyeshadows since high school?”
She covered her mouth with both hands to stifle her laughter. Hazy opened the palette. Several of the colors were almost empty, and the pan he’d broken during one of their experiments was missing. This was the exact same one, not just the same brand.
“Oh. My. God. You’re going to get an eye infection!”
She broke into giggles and he joined her, taking in the ratty-ass look of all the other products he’d chosen.
“The expiration date is a recommendation,” she said through her fingers.
Hazy set the eyeshadow aside and opened some of the other bottles and compacts. He sniffed a decrepit tube of concealer. To his relief, it smelled fine.
He fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to her.
“While I do your hair, you’re buying new makeup. Go fucking crazy.”
She doubled over in her seat, laughing at his antics.
“I don’t need new makeup. What I have is perfectly serviceable.”
“No, the fuck it is not. I wouldn’t put any of this on my face. I’m only putting it on yours because we’re short on time, and by some miracle you haven’t destroyed your skin yet. What am I supposed to do if I need to borrow your eyeliner? Or body glitter.”
Still giggling, Livy accepted his phone. She typed in his passcode and opened a shopping app.
“I don’t own body glitter.”
Hazy tutted. “How have you existed this long without body glitter? Fucking tragic,” he said, setting her off again.
She was so fucking easy. He loved that. She found everything he said funny. Even if it was a tiny bit true, or a lot a bit mean. He found a—mercifully clean—makeup sponge and ran to the bathroom to get it wet.
Livy browsed blushes and lipsticks while he got to work painting her face in the steps he’d learned as a teenager watching beauty gurus on YouTube. He controlled the tilt of her head with a light grip on her chin. She closed her eyes, relaxing as he played with the creams and powders.
By the time he finished, she had a gorgeous, glittering smoky eye, and her full, pouty lips were shiny and inviting. Eat your heart out, Lover. Poor guy wouldn’t know what to do with her.
He once again forced the thought away and admired his handiwork. She opened her eyes and twisted toward the mirror, but he caught her chin, forcing her to face him. “It’s perfect, trust me. No peeking.”
She scanned his face, searching for any hint of deception.
Hazy didn’t give her any. Her letting him experiment with her hair and makeup and outfits was one of his favorite things.
He’d forgotten how much he loved letting this creative part of him out during their years apart.
The team’s social media manager had a niece, Cassie, and he’d taught her how to do her hair when her father became a single dad, but she’d outgrown the need for his help years ago.
“I swear to God, if I sit through ninety minutes of this and you made me look like a clown, I’m going to cut your balls off and feed them to you.”
Hazy laughed. “You’ll look beautiful. I promise.” He held out a pinky for a promise. Pinky promises were sacred. A social contract all his friends knew he’d never break.
Livy looped her pinky around his. “Fine.” She twisted in her chair to face the wall.
Hazy let out a whoop, somewhat surprised she trusted him so much.
He slipped the choker he’d found in her jewelry box over her head and pulled her hair free before he curled it.
Letting his fingernails trail over her scalp in the way she loved, he asked, “What would you have done if I said I had feelings for Lover?”
Livy groaned at the scalp massage. The sound went straight to his dick. All he’d ever had to do to win her over was play with her hair. She’d probably like if he pulled it too.
Fuck. No.
He was getting her ready for a date with his other best friend. His best friend, who had never, to his knowledge, asked anyone else out. And Livy deserved someone who recognized how great she was right from the start. It wasn’t Lover or Livy’s fault that it had taken him twenty years to see her.
“I would have canceled the date.”
“Just like that?” he asked.
“Just like that. I’m not here to steal your man.”
A laugh escaped him. “You couldn’t if you tried. I have that one locked down.”
They snickered, and he relaxed. He loved these moments with her, and lately everything had been charged. It had his world off-kilter.
“You’re sure you’re okay with us going out?” she asked.
Yet another opening where he could object. He didn’t want to ruin either of their evenings. “For sure,” he lied. “I hope you have the best time.” That part, at least, was true.
Livy had freshly washed hair; the strands were silky and smooth, and when he ran his fingers through the curls, he got the exact effect he’d been hoping for. Soft, shiny hair fell over her shoulders in gentle waves. He worked some delicious-smelling oil (from his own collection) into the ends.
He unplugged the curling iron and said, “Okay, close your eyes.”
She obliged. He tugged her to her feet and led her to the bathroom where she could get the full effect in the floor-length mirror. Adjusting her dress and hair so it sat right, he said, “Now, open your eyes.”
She stared at herself for long enough to make Hazy doubt his ability, even though she looked stunning. She touched the choker around her neck and ran her fingers through her waves, disheveling them and enhancing their beauty.
“Oh my God, Connor. I’m like a sexy Cinderella.”
He looped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder while she stared at herself in the mirror more.
“You’re my fairy godmother,” she said.
The sentiment shocked a chuckle out of him. “Bippity Boppity Boo, or something I guess.”