3. Everything’s Fine
3
EVERYTHING’S FINE
MALLORY
“One of these days we’ll do this without squashing the oranges.” Gus moves me to the left, away from the produce. Once I’m satisfied with the placement of my ass, I cup the back of his neck and dive back in, letting his hands roam my body – and just when he moves his hands inch towards my breasts, my phone rings, causing him to audibly sigh.
“If that’s Ashby again, I’m going to lose my shit.”
“Ignore it.” I say, moving his hands back to my body as I kiss his lips once more. He breaks away and moves his lips up and down my jaw, trailing all the way to my neck. He’s leaving wet kisses all over. It’s kind of grossing me out, but I repress the urge to shiver when I feel him grow beneath me.
Gus and I have been… hooking up? I guess it is the word, on and off since freshman year. But we haven’t exactly… ‘hooked up’. We do… things, just not the main thing.
We’ve never had sex. It was never my choice, per se. My dad banned me from dating one of his players freshman year after the whole Cole thing.
Gus Russo is a centre for my dad’s hockey team, The Grizzly bears. Gus is a year younger than me, a sophomore. We met at his very first hockey orientation last August, to which he asked me out almost immediately. He knew that my dad banned me from dating anyone on the team, but proposed we do other things. Fun things.
The Russo’s are long time friends of the Ashby’s, Oliver’s parents. Oliver Ashby is my best friend and the Grizzly’s captain — as of this year. Oliver’s parents own ‘Ashby Wine’, one of the best wine brands in the world. Gus’ parents own ‘Russo & Co’ — one of the top wine firms in America. Their families own villas next to each other in Italy.
Anyway, their families are great friends, which means Gus and Ollie know each other pretty well. Getting the bestie’s approval to date couldn’t hurt — unless you wanted to date said bestie, then it does hurt. A lot. but I moved on from the mere crush I had on Ollie. Gus is my sole focus.
He and I have talked about our relationship a lot. Casual sex isn’t my thing. I only want to have sex with someone I have strong feelings for, someone I'm dating – a boyfriend.
But Gus isn’t my boyfriend. So we haven’t had sex.
But now I’m seriously re–thinking my choices.
I reach my hand to undo his belt, but then my phone rings again.
Or at least I could rethink them, if Ollie didn’t call me every time Gus and I are together. I don’t blame him for it though, it’s not like he does it on purpose. He’s the captain, he’s responsible for the team, and that means Gus too.
I let it go to voicemail, and right when Gus’s belt falls to the floor, it's his phone that rings.
Guess who it is.
“Just answer it.” I say, leaning over to kiss a spot under his neck. Gus reaches into the back pocket of his jeans – that are basically dangling from his hips – and answers the phone with a gruff tone .
“Kind of busy here, cap.” He says, moving his hand under my shirt.
I don’t hear what he’s saying on the other line, but I did hear the phrase ‘dick wet’ so I’m assuming he’s mad about something. Maybe I should’ve answered my phone. Gus adverts his eyes as he responds, grunting a ‘ok’ and a ‘yep’ every now and again.
When he hangs up the phone. He redoes his belt and places his head on my shoulder, screaming quietly into my sweater. “How you stand to be his best friend, I’ll never know.”
“He’s nice to me.”
“You’re you , of course he’s nice to you.”
“He’s nice to you too.”
“He’s nice to me around our parents. When we’re on the ice…” He shakes his head “Not so nice.”
He looks up at me, moving a strand of hair behind my ear which because of my rom–com–loving–girl brain, causes my heart to thump in my chest.
I know this is just a situationship – god I hate that word – but that’s what it is. Even if my dad miraculously gave me permission for Gus and I to date, would I want to? It’s no secret that Cole messed me up pretty bad. But he wasn’t like that in the beginning. He was nice and attentive, like Gus.
So now I’m doomed to ask myself the same question over and over again.
Are all men the same?
“I gotta get going, caps orders. But before I go, I wanted to ask you something,” he looks at me as he rubs the back of his neck, the tips of his ears turning pink. This can’t be good. “My parents are coming to town for the Emerson game In a few weeks, and I want them to meet you. Officially.”
Oh no .
“W-why would they meet me?” I lightly press against him, so he backs up, giving me enough room to jump down from the counter.
“Well, we spoke about what to do when they get there and they mentioned wanting to meet my uh – they want to meet you.”
“Hold on,” I hold my palm up in the air. “You told them about me?”
His eyes soften. “Well, yeah.”
That’s actually really sweet.
“I know that we can’t be like, official or anything, cause coach will kill me and he’s fucking terrifying,” he lets out a nervous laugh. “But I talk about you all the time. I like you, a lot.”
He leans down to press a kiss to my jaw. One kiss, then another, then another. “Say you’ll meet them?” He whispers.
I look up at him, something in those dazzling blue eyes sparkles at me. “You know we’re not together, right?”
Way to ruin the moment, Mallory. Atta girl.
“I know,” he swallows. “I know we both have the right to see and fuck other people and stuff. I’m not asking as…” he’s silent for a long time, like he’s trying to figure out what to say without scaring me off. “Meet them, if anything, as my friend? You’ve met Cap's parents so it doesn’t need to mean anything. Just meet them as my friend, the sweetest girl I know.”
That line normally does something to me, but not from him. I go to answer him, when I see a curly headed figure duck behind the small window in the door. I bite my lip to hold down a laugh.
“I think you’re needed,” I grab my apron and wrap it around my waist. “I’ll think about it. ”
He pumps his fist in the air as he backs out the room. “Later.”
As soon as the door closes behind me, I slam my head into the slightly squashed oranges. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
I leave the back room and when I reach the shop floor, I see him exiting the café, and then a certain curly–haired boy moves into my eyeline.
“Trouble in paradise?” He smirks, leaning against the counter. I sneakily look around and see all the girls in the room are now glued to my best friend’s very toned ass. Not that I blame them, I’m guilty of taking a sneaky peak every now and again.
Oliver Ashby is six–foot–three of pure sex. I’m not joking. He has curly brown hair that curls around the underside of his backwards baseball cap. Muscles that cling to his grey sports shirt. Oh, and he possesses the most gorgeous pair of eyes I've ever seen. He’s my best friend, so you already know the drill.
The friend zone and I are quite accustomed to one another. I’m never leaving, and not by choice.
“He wants me to meet his parents,” I deadpan, heading behind the counter, tying an apron behind my back.
His signature smirk drops. “But you aren’t his girlfriend.”
“I can meet them as his friend,” I shrug. “I’ve met your parents, so it’s kind of the same thing.” It’s not. “And your mom has probably talked about me to Mrs Russo, so they probably just want to put a face to the name.”
“Russo told you this?” He moves his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. “That he’s fine introducing you as his friend? ”
“Yeah, we’ve spoken about it alot. We’re both sleeping with others. What Gus and I have is just…” I give him a quick glance over my shoulder. “Sorry, forgot who I was talking to for a second. I normally go into detail about this with the girls. Gus and I have fun, but we both know where we stand.”
There’s a sudden silence between us, like he deliberately waits to respond until I turn to face him.
“You’ve been seeing other guys?”
Why do my hands suddenly feel sweaty? “Um, a few? Nothing serious, you know me – but I’ve hooked up a bit, yeah.”
“With other guys, but not with Russo?” I nod. Oliver’s features harden a little as he responds with “Oh.”
Oh? As in, oh I thought you were only with Gus, Or oh, I didn’t know you we’re seeing people because I want to see you.
I live in a world of delusion, clearly.
“So um,” I clear my throat as I scoop raspberries into the blender jug, trying desperately to change the subject. “Is there a reason you called me fifty million times, then Gus?”
“It was twice, thank you very much — I’m not a stalker,” he corrects. “And yeah, we have practice soon and Russo was MIA. I also wanted to know if you need a ride to the party tonight.”
I shake my head, pressing the start button on the blender then pouring the juice into the plastic cup when it’s done. “Abi’s got it covered, she’s driving us on the way, then Marcus is taking us home. He has a 5 am practice tomorrow so he’s not drinking.”
“The football team has a 5 am practice but they’re hosting a party anyway?” Ollie snickers from behind me.
“You know the football guys.”
I place the lid on the top and grab a straw, sliding it towards him. He spins it around, smiling when he reads the name on the side.
Olive Oil.
He has two nicknames for me, so I thought it was only fair I give him one. He smiles that gorgeous heartbreaker smile that’s just for me and starts walking away, but I call his name out. When he turns, I throw a packet of gummy bears his way, and he catches it so effortlessly, like it’s a reflex – which it basically is at this point.
And hello, it was the hottest thing I've ever seen.
“For later.” I say
“Dolcezza mia.” He replies, smiling.
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
He winks at me, and says “See you later, Marshmallory.”
When I turn around, blushing like a little kid, I see my boss standing there, tapping his foot against the floor.
“I know I know.” I roll my eyes as I reach into my back pocket and take out a ten, placing it in the register.
Oliver thinks his drinks and stuff are on the house – I don’t have the heart to tell him I’ve been paying for them since I started working here.
Okay, I confess: I still have a teeny–tiny — the smallest, really — crush on my best friend.
Okay, it’s not small.
I’m basically in love with him.
But like I said. It’s fine.
We’re fine. Everything’s fine.
Fine. Fine. Fine.