31. tallulah
TALLULAH
FUCKBOY’S FEEDING GROUND
I slid my ID across the desk to gain access to one of the main training facilities for the Olympians.
My stolen paper was officially behind me.
There was only the here and now. Now, it was time to write the best goddamn profile I could, and when I won the prize to interview Tomasini, I wanted to tell him exactly what I thought about his internship.
Would I have the courage to do that?
No idea. That wasn’t an important question. I’d figure it out before talking to Tomasini himself.
There were more important things to focus on.
Clutching my laptop bag, I hurried down the hallway. It was my first day of interviews. I thought I’d be more nervous. I wasn’t. I had a sneaking suspicion it had to do with my new abode.
For the first time in forever, I got a full night’s sleep, and Nick’s shower was amazing.
I would never be ungrateful for proper water pressure again.
And nobody angrily knocked on the door, demanding for me to hurry up!
No broken pipes from the maintenance crew.
No passive aggressive comments. No awkwardly waiting for Winona to leave our dorm so I could change.
Nick had already seen, touched, licked, and sucked on everything. Changing in front of him wasn’t awkward. We did it five times a day. What was once in the morning?
Plus, Nick woke up two hours earlier than he usually did to buy me breakfast. A special treat for a special day.
The anxiety couldn’t get me. My morning was too good.
“Tallulah!” Max’s grin was wide. He squeezed my shoulder, pulling me into a side hug. “Good morning. You look great.”
“Thank you.” I smiled. “I’m so excited to be here.”
Max introduced me to his crew, and I spent an hour plotting out his daily schedule. I wanted every detail. When they confirmed I could ask for whatever, I requested copies of his dietary plans for the weeks before the Olympics.
“You’re so dedicated,” Max murmured.
I beamed. Max was nice. If Nick gave him a chance, I knew they could be friends. Or, at least, they could be on better terms. “Thank you.”
“Do you still have that yellow dress? I can’t stop thinking about it.”
The one from weeks ago? I flushed. “Um, yes. Thank you.”
“You should wear it again.”
“Here?” A nervous laugh burst out of me. “I couldn’t do that.”
“Maybe at The Whaler? It’s an awesome bar. That’s where we did the bar crawl. If you were thinking of…”
“I’ll check it out,” I promised.
We stood there for a couple of seconds, Max smiling down at me, me smiling at him. There was an interesting expectant feeling in the silence. Did Max ask me a question? I didn’t think so. Was he waiting for me to say something?
Max cleared his throat. “They—uh—have a darts competition on Thursdays.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Yeah.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Yeah…” he trailed off. “Uh, Tallulah…”
Behind him, someone waved to get our attention. Waved like, waving both arms over the desk. I peered around Max, confused by the receptionist making a spectacle of himself.
“Ma’am?” he called to me. “You have a delivery!”
Was he talking to me?
I threw an apologetic smile at Max, stepping closer to see the delivery at the counter. A bouquet of sunflowers were tucked inside of a gorgeous, amethyst-purple vase, tied with a bow as big as the vase itself.
My face flamed. Oh my god, Nick sent flowers? I turned back to Max. His smile was gone. As soon as he caught my gaze, he smiled again, pressing his lips so close together, they almost disappeared.
“I—I’m sorry for the interruption.” Quickly, I told the desk employee that I’d pick them up on my way out.
My words tumbled over each other for my explanation to Max.
“Nick and I were talking, and I said sunflowers remind me of this hockey player, Montoya. Because Montoya and sunflowers are both sunshiney, and adorable, and tall, and skinny. And Nick pretended to be all grumpy and said he wanted sunflowers to remind me of him—and—and—”
I couldn’t bite back the smile, heart surging in my chest.
Max was unamused.
“I’m sorry.” I abandoned the desk. “It’s an inside joke, it’s dumb. Um, we should go to your support team—”
Max grunted in agreement. We walked in awkward silence until I caught him gazing down at me, eyebrows furrowed. “Here’s the thing, Tallulah. I know you’re going to win the profile, and I know you’ll win the interview with Tomasini.”
“Oh. Thank you.”
“When you do…I don’t think you should mention Nick. I’m sure it’s a touchy subject. And Tomasini has a short fuse. Everybody has a story about him.”
I stopped at the archway. “Touchy subject?”
“Nick didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“About Tomasini’s Winter Olympics team? Two years ago?”
Slowly, I shook my head. Nick was part of the Winter Olympics? How did I not know about that?
“Huh. That’s so weird,” Max said, pushing a door open. “You and Nick are such good friends, I was sure he told you.”
“I—I guess it slipped his mind.”
“Yeah. Maybe. I guess I should clarify, Tomasini washed him out.”
“Washed him out?”
“Cut him out. Sent him home. Not that anybody missed him. Nick is…well, he’s Nick.” Max’s chuckle was dark. “A couple of days before my ski team was set to compete, Nick slept with my teammate’s girlfriend. Ruined our dynamics. Cost us the gold.”
I was so cold inside, I didn’t know what to say.
The ski team incident wasn’t surprising. I mean, it was Nick. The stories about him were endless. It was Nick’s history with Tomasini that I couldn’t stop thinking about.
We’d talked about Tomasini multiple times. Why didn’t Nick tell me he’d been part of the Winter Olympics? Why would Nick keep that from me? And why was he kicked out?
“I couldn’t believe that Tomasini brought Nick on again,” Max told me. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. The Olympics are going to be that fuckboy’s feeding ground. Nick would’ve done anything to come back—”
“I don’t want you to talk about Nick anymore,” I blurted out.
We stopped in the hallway, and the blush burned my skin. I didn’t mean to sound so defensive.
Averting my eyes, I stared intently at my laptop bag. I was hurt that Nick never told me, but something about this wasn’t right. I didn’t want to have this conversation with Max. I wanted to have it with Nick.
Who had clearly been keeping things from me.
“I—I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I meant, I don’t think we should talk about him anymore.”
“No, I’m sorry, Tallulah,” Max apologized. “I thought you knew.”
“It’s okay,” I mumbled. “I don’t like talking about people when they’re not here. And Nick is my…” The word was foreign and strange on my tongue. “Friend. He’s my friend.”
Nick and I had lunch plans, which would undoubtedly take place at an incredibly expensive restaurant. One of our long, lazy lunches. I’d have ample opportunity to ask him about the things that’d been nagging me all morning.
Could I do that?
Could I pressure Nick to tell me?
Walking into Everett, I debated the pros and cons of pushing the issue. To find out why Nick had been cut from the Winter Olympics and why he’d never told me.
“Hey, sweetheart!” ricocheted across the arena. Nick was heading into the locker room, waving among his guffawing teammates. “I’ll be ten minutes!”
Flushed, I waved back, motioning that the time was okay. Maybe I’d gather the courage to talk to him in the meantime.
Maybe. A soft, soft maybe.
No. I knew myself better than that. I wouldn’t ask, because I wanted Nick to tell me himself, without prompting.
I slid into the bleachers. My feelings for Nick were so complicated now. It was a whirling tornado in my chest, tugging me one way and another.
I couldn’t deny it. Things were changing fast.
How long would this be enough? This weird summer fling where we tiptoed the lines until they blurred beneath us. Heartbreak crept in at the horizon. I didn’t know if I could handle this staying casual, and I didn’t know if anything else was possible.
What if I wanted more and Nick didn’t?
No. That question was an obvious worry to have, a surface-level anxiety. If I was thinking of the possibilities, there was a more petrifying thought I didn’t want to face.
What if I wanted more and Nick did too? And what if Nick couldn’t be in a relationship?
Emotionally, what if he couldn’t do that? He was never open with me. Talking to him was so frustrating sometimes, like I was taking two steps forward, then two steps back. There was no progress. I was giving everything, and he never offered the same in return.
His dad? No. Why he joined the Toronto Blades? Absolutely not. Tomasini himself? Hell no. There were secrets that were so obvious, it felt like everybody knew but me.
As fuck buddies, it was easier to ignore that distance he created between us. But if we got into a relationship, this wouldn’t be okay. I knew myself. My anxiety, my buried questions, the things that kept my head spinning. I needed someone open and honest.
I wanted that someone to be Nick and I didn’t know if he could be.
With a sigh, I folded my arms over the seat in front of me, gazing at the rink. My phone jingled and I flinched.
Besides Nick, there wasn’t anyone else I wanted to talk to. I glanced at the screen in apprehension. It was my mom. For the first time, I hesitated to answer the call. There was too much on my mind, I wanted to sort this out, not ignore things with a family phone call.
Reluctantly, I answered. “Hi, Mom.”
“Baaaaby,” my mom cooed. Food sizzled in the background, birds chirping in the distance. They were probably barbecuing in the backyard. It was my dad’s summer pastime. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Could I—um—call you tonight? I have a lunch thing…”
“Five minutes,” my mom promised. “We have a surprise…”
“Surprise?” I said, fighting the wariness in my voice.
“Your dad and I want to visit Canada!”
A wave of nausea hit me. This was too much. This day was too much. “Mom, I miss you, but—”
“Your dad and I can stay for a week—”
“Mom—”
“We’re looking at the tickets. What would be better for your schedule? Morning flight? Evening flight? Red eye?”
“Mom—”
“Fridge is on the fence about it. What if it’s for a friendly visit? Explicitly friendly—”
My heart dropped to my stomach. Was she serious? Talking about bringing my ex-boyfriend to visit me? “Fridge?!”
“Do you think you could skip out for a day? We want to go to Niagara. There’s a hotel with water beds and your dad—”
“Mom,” I interjected, breathing hard. “Fridge can’t come.”
There was a lengthy pause. “As a friend, Lulah. The ticket won’t cost anything, and Toronto’s on the list of cities he wants to visit.”
“I don’t want him to come.”
“You don’t…? Why not?”
Last year, when I’d told my parents that I was dating Fridge, it’d taken me three weeks to admit to it. It was hard to broach those kinds of topics with them. And this one, my ex’s best friend who I had feelings for… I didn’t know what to say.
My words were wobbly. “I—I’m sleeping with someone else.”
Surprised silence. Neither of us spoke.
“You’re sleeping with someone?” my mom repeated. “To be clear, you mean sex. You’re having sex with someone?”
“Yes?” I squeaked.
“Casual sex? You?”
“Yes.”
“Are you—uh—sure? Do you mean you want to try doing that?”
I flamed with embarrassment. “No! I’m doing it!”
“I didn't think you could…? That's, uh—huh. Coming from you, that’s—” Her voice became muffled, it was obvious she put her hand over the receiver. “Jacoby, your daughter’s having casual sex.”
“Whose daughter?”
“Your daughter.”
“Lulah?” my dad laughed in the background. “No, that can’t be right.”
“Mom.” I ran a hand down my face. “I am.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s not exactly a great conversation starter—”
“Why not?” Hurt laced through her words. “I thought we had that kind of relationship. That’s who we are, Tallulah—”
“No, Mom. That’s who you are. I’m not like that. I’m not like you two.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t like giving private information away. I’m not…the kind of person to go around talking to everybody about this kind of stuff. Especially since it’s…” I winced, forcing myself to admit to it out loud. “Casual.”
There was only the sizzling meat in the background before my mom spoke again. “We’re not everybody, Lulah. I’m your mom.”
Oh my god, I’d never hurt my mom’s feelings before.
I bit my lip, sinking down in the bleachers, my stomach a mess. “I didn’t mean it like that. I love talking to you. It’s just—it’s complicated.”
My parents tended to have…reactions. They were big ‘go blazing in, ask questions later’ kinds of people.
When I was in high school, I never told them about teachers I didn’t like or minor bullying issues because I knew they’d try to handle it themselves.
They were so supportive. Too supportive.
In ways that it was hard for my anxiety to deal with.
I hadn’t told my parents anything about my summer internship on purpose. If I did, they would’ve done everything to convince me to come home. Probably would’ve flown here themselves.
If I told them about the situation with Nick, they would hound me until I broke it off with him.
I loved my parents, but I didn’t want that.
I caught sight of Nick coming towards me, freshly washed from the shower, his tan skin gleaming. My heart lodged in my throat at the sight of him.
“What about Fridge?” my mom asked over the line.
She might as well have asked me about the neighbors’ opinions. I had loved Fridge so much, but this summer was bigger than him. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d thought about my ex at all.
“We can talk about a visit tonight, I can’t wait to see you again, I love you,” I hurried to say. “But please don’t tell Fridge that I’m seeing someone. If you love me, please, don’t tell him.”