9. Harper
9
T roy looked like he wanted the ice to melt and swallow him whole. But only him. Like no one else—especially those surrounding him at the moment—were welcome in said hole.
Instead of cheering and roaring with his teammates, he snapped out of his game-winning high and looked…enraged? Annoyed?
What on earth?
Either Troy Hartman was too cool to be fist bumped, or that hit against the glass, where I’d flinched and gasped, to my infinite surprise, affected his head too.
He was taking off now. Practically the first one off the ice.
Where do you think you’re going?
That guy was my only access to my car keys, and whatever this diva moment he was having, needed to wait until I got them back.
I pushed past the crowd heading toward the exit and raced until I bumped into someone. A familiar someone.
“Frankie?” He was holding an oversized soda cup.
“Hey. How’d you get to sit up here?” That was all he asked.
I shook my head. “Don’t ask. I need to go find my car.”
“Good luck. See you tomorrow.”
I hit a roadblock I couldn’t get past and wanted to scream. The time I spent inching my way toward the exit made me wonder how and why on this earth I’d been plagued with countless encounters with Troy Hartman over the last week.
And it all started with me stalking him.
Stupid.
Settling the score with Troy was the first and only thing on my list that was about hurting someone. And it completely backfired.
Over and over again.
I finally made my way out of the endless rush of the crowd and found what I thought was the way I entered.
“Wrong way,” someone called behind me.
I ignored the guy and carried on until I found a familiar pathway to the locker room.
I caught a glimpse of a herd of players heading toward the end of the long hallway and slowed down, breathless and annoyed.
I hate hockey players.
Scrap that. I hated just the one.
I couldn’t believe I let myself be charmed by his flirtatious comments and arrogant smirks. I was completely falling for it, like the idiot I was five years ago.
Troy hadn’t even looked my way after he’d won the game. Not even a glance to let me know to meet him back in the hall where he’d left me so he could make sure I got my keys back.
Cool it, Harp, you and your keys are the last thing on his mind, he’d just won the game for his whole team.
Okay, but…did he know that?
Because it sure as hell didn’t look like it by the steeled expression he carried all the way across the ice until he was out of sight.
I must have looked like a bobblehead the way I kept shaking my head as I walked to the other side of the arena to get to the locker rooms. Because this—all of this was my fault. If I hadn’t lost my senses that night at the bar, I probably wouldn’t have been stuck here tonight, trying to track down Troy Hartman as if we were in high school ag—
The tip of my shoe screeched as I reached an empty quiet tiled hallway. It was narrower, and the tiles were gray rather than faded yellow, but the twisting in my stomach all the same. Raging heat flooded my veins at a memory I was still trying to forget.
The corset of my dress was tight and possibly a little off. Okay, so it was definitely a little off. The girls were being pressed against something and it certainly wasn’t the part of the bodice they were supposed to be laying comfortably in. I should have probably stopped. Should have gone to the ladies room to adjust them, and powdered my nose or whatever the hell it was that seventeen-year-old girls did in the bathrooms on prom night besides pee.
But no—I kept walking toward the end of the hall because curiosity got the best of me.
And…my boyfriend, who was just named Prom King, was missing in action for the last thirty minutes. And no, I wasn’t named his Queen. But it was alright; I wasn’t expecting to be. Troy and I weren’t on the same popularity level. In fact, I was quite surprised that my crush had finally asked me out three months ago.
I was overly excited to tell him that tonight was the night for us. He’d been patient with my cautiousness about having sex. But I wasn’t ready and still wasn’t sure I was. But it was prom—and I wanted to savor every magical moment.
Including losing my virginity. And who better than Troy Hartman?
I heard his voice. Or rather, a grunt from the end of the hall and wondered if he was hurt or something. Maybe graduation and leaving a place where he’d always felt like a king was affecting him more than I’d imagined—for someone like Troy.
I treaded carefully and quietly. To avoid startling him. When I turned into the alcove at the far end of the hall, I found him.
My heart stopped.
No. It crumpled. Like this intense, overwhelming, emotional collapse.
His pants were down and around his knees. His arm was stretched out in front of him, palm flat against the gray tiled wall.
And his other hand—a strong, tight grip around long dark hair whose face was buried at his groin.
But I didn’t need to see her face. The knee-length, off-shoulder silver dress she wore told me who it was.
His Queen.
My stomach churned with every slow thrust he was giving her. Every sound of pleasure from his deceitful throat. He let out a curse and whispered her name—Gina.
Not that it mattered who this was…I was just thanking God it wasn’t me.
But at least it was Gina Malone. She made sense. Her social status, the money her family had, the dark straight hair that was always silky and perfect, compared to my untamed waves.
Pretty things.
That was all the kids at East Brooklyn High cared about—pretty people and the pretty things they had. I thought I was a pretty person who might not have had pretty things—but I had him.
Until I found him here.
My mouth was open but there was no sound, not even a squeal, nothing but pure silent horror before I cursed and ran in the other direction.
The exit.
I ran as fast as I could, tears streaming down my made-up face, until I crashed into someone—
Hands pushed against his chest, I looked up.
Troy?
No. How could he have gotten in front of me so fast?
I flipped around to find my boyfriend—still where I’d just found him…with his pants down.
Then turned around to face someone who looked just like the guy who broke my heart. Their suits for the night were as identical as they were.
"August," I breathed.
August—the smart, quiet twin—gripped my arms, steadying me. Before he could manage any combination of words—August was never good at that—I broke free of his warm hold and raced toward the double doors.
“Harper, stop.” Their voices were nearly identical too, so I couldn’t tell which one it was.
But it didn’t matter.
“Go to hell,” I whispered back before pushing the doors open and getting as far away from that building as possible.
I blinked, my eyes fluttering away from the memory. I forced myself to move forward.
This wasn’t the same thing.
You’re not chasing him. It’s not him you want. Just the keys.
Once I had them, I would go find my car. How big could that parking lot be anyway?
I stopped at a corner and wondered if I’d gone too far. I definitely passed this way before, didn’t I?
I flipped around at the distinct sound of the locker room door swinging open. Chatter and cheers now fading in the distance.
Simon Mathers was the one who walked through it. The tall captain of the Blades had on sweatpants, a t-shirt and hoodie. He spotted me immediately. “I think I know who you’re looking for.” He hesitated. “ Troy ?” His eyes narrowed and held up his hands to make quotation marks when saying his name. Which I found odd.
“He has my keys, I think. I’m not sure, but I’d like to have them back.”
“Ah, right, the ninjas. Hey, thanks for getting him here. The guys dropped them with Hartman. I’ll let him know you’re here.” He turned, but I called after him.
“Actually, if you could just grab them from him and bring them back to me, I could just—”
“You could what?” Troy emerged from behind the double doors, his expression as hard as it was when he’d won.
He was barely wearing the suit he’d been in earlier, his crisp white shirt now wrinkled and there were buttons either missing or unaligned.
When I only stared at the man, trying to urge back the feelings of pure hatred I’d felt moments ago, they wouldn’t come. Betraying me, dissipating into thin air.
His solid green eyes turned from me to Simon. Troy shook his head slightly to the captain, sending a message that I clearly wasn’t to hear.
Simon nodded in understanding and held up his hands. “Not gonna ask.” He waved at me and thanked me again before taking off.
When I turned back, Troy's eyes were steel. Like I’d done something to betray him . Ignoring it, I took a deep breath and stepped forward, holding out my palm.
He let it hang in the air as he tossed the keys up and let them drop back into his hand. “Let’s go.” He started toward the exit, walking faster than I could follow. I sprang forward to catch up.
"Troy," I called breathlessly behind him.
He paused only for a beat, then picked up the pace. His jaw was tight, eyes level. His whole energy screamed "big loss". As though...someone had stolen his victory tonight.
The crowd was screaming his name. His teammates jumped every inch of him after the thunderous buzzer went off, and he…didn’t want any of it.
We finally stepped outside through the same side door, and he barely held it open for me. When he started walking along the side of the building with purpose, I knew he had an idea where they parked my car.
“Hey, slow down,” I urged.
“Try to keep up, Harper,” he snapped.
I stopped and rested my hands on my knees, catching my breath. “Just… give me the keys…I can take it from here.”
He turned sharply, his tone almost condescending. “It’s eleven o’clock at night.”
I straightened with a deep breath. “What’s your deal? You won tonight.”
“I didn’t win anything. Nothing was ever mine to win,” he added under his breath, then was on the move again. “Come on.”
I shivered, feeling the cool wind against my face.
“No,” I shouted before lowering my voice. “I don’t feel safe with you.”
He stopped, turning to me. “What?”
I leaned against the brick wall and closed my eyes. “Please just hand me my keys and go away.”
I heard the footsteps; they were coming toward me. With my eyes shut tight, I didn’t have to see him. I didn’t feel for him. I didn’t want to know what was wrong or how I could help. I wasn’t going to care.
With my eyes closed, I could hate him again.
He was now inches from me. I could almost feel his breath. He lifted my hand gently and placed the keys in my palm and clasped my fingers around them. His warm hand held mine a moment longer.
The tears that were the result of an exhausting and confusing week with him escaped my eyes one drop after another and I kept my eyes closed.
He thumbed one away. Then another. The words that followed were soft. “You have your keys. But I’m not leaving you alone.”
I swallowed, my head leaning back against the wall as I took a breath. Absorbing a new energy from him. One that calmed me.
When the last tear slid down to my neck, Troy swiped it upward with the back of his fingers. “You can keep your eyes closed as long as you want, but I promise you, you’re safe.” He swiped again, but there were no tears.
“Harper.”
The desperate tone made me open my eyes. He held them for a moment before leaning forward, kissing the wet stain on my chin.
His lips—God how I wanted them on me again since that night at the bar. Holding still, I let his lips trace up my jaw. When my traitorous head turned slightly toward him, he moved into me, gliding his hands into my hair before pressing his lips to mine. His kiss was deep, passionate, and powerful. Exploring as he parted my mouth with his tongue, taking my breath away. A small whimper escaped before I could stop it. I felt every bit of his longing. Like he wanted to taste every last drop before coming up for air. Like he was certain this wasn't going to happen again.
Why here? Why now?
Gently, he released me, pulling back.
I opened my eyes, but a breath was caught in my throat and I could barely speak. All I wanted to do was cry because that kiss was so gratifying and painful at the same time.
I fought the tears of pure confusion but the mist was impossible to hide when I looked up at him. My expression could be no better interpreted than angry, but I didn’t have the voice for it.
Whatever this other side to him was, it was a lie. And he would only end up hurting me again.
His eyes dropped to my lips before speaking softly. “Nothing was ever mine.”
Looking down, he slipped the keys back into his hand and removed his suit jacket, resting it around my shoulders. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”
“Are we good?” Nic asked on Saturday morning during our weekly trip to the grocery store together.
“Of course. Why?"
“I thought you were still mad over the sketch,” she said tentatively. Which was unlike Nic. She was always overconfident about everything she did.
I released a breath. “No. He didn’t seem to mind as much as I thought he would. So, that’s a relief.”
She laughed. “What did you think he was going to do? Press charges for drawing a picture of him?”
“I don’t know…it’s kind of invasive, isn’t it?”
“The guy is a famous pro hockey player. I’m pretty sure he signed up for this.”
I bit my lip. Troy had seemed to be more appreciative of it than violated.
“I saw he followed you out on Wednesday night after your shift. Frankie said he saw you at the game. You get any action?”
I shook my head and focused on the crates of fresh produce. “I left my sketchbook in the car with all my other stuff.”
“I meant from the star player himself?”
As badly as I wanted to, I knew what telling Nic about the kiss meant. It would mean I’d have to tell her how much I liked it. The possessive strokes and swipes of his tongue. The way his body moved into me, holding me right where he wanted me. The way he cupped my face and studied it. Like he treasured it, never intending to take it for granted.
It took the good part of the rest of my week to finally be able to close my eyes and not see the hurt look on his face when I told him I didn’t feel safe with him. As if I’d hit something I didn’t know was there. A protectiveness toward me. A soft spot.
Hard to believe Troy Hartman was capable of having one.
“No. He drove me home in my car and then took a cab home.”
My friend seemed utterly bored with my story as she rolled her eyes.
“I had pretty amazing seats, though.”
"When that seat includes sitting on his lap, you can finish your story.” She feigns a yawn.
I shook my head, grabbing an avocado. “Nic, what do you want me to say? You're looking for juice when there isn't any.”
“I’m trying to figure out when you’ll get to the part where you tell me what the hell is going on with you two.”
“Nothing,” I spit out too eagerly.
“That’s why you get all worked up when you talk about him? Why he keeps just showing up? How you ended up crashing on his couch? You still owe me the full story on that.”
“That was—weird, I know.”
“Um…no, that’s the making of a porno, except you…once again chickened out and just fucking left.”
“You’re exhausting.” I tossed the unripe avocado back into the stack and moved on.
“When you get your cherry popped, it’ll be all you think about too.”
I gasped. “How do you know I’m…?”
She scanned me head to toe. “Oh honey, please. You’re afraid of dick.”
My mouth dropped.
She pointed her finger at me. “Careful, you might catch one.”
“Ew.”
She shut her eyes with a shake of her head as if I’d just turned down a Tiffany’s necklace. “I can’t with you.”
I picked up an eggplant, feeling it for firmness, muttering, “I am not afraid of dick.”
Nic dropped her basket on the floor by her feet. “Alright, give me that.” She yanked it out of my hand and observed it. "This one’s way too thick. Let’s try this one.” She reached for another slightly thinner eggplant.
“What are you doing?”
“This right here…this is Troy’s dick.” She smoothed a hand along the length, and I cringed.
“Will you stop saying that?” I hissed, my eyes sweeping the shoppers around us.
“Fine, here, you take it.”
“No, you’re being weird.”
“Take. It ,” she growled and I yanked the damn vegetable from her.
“Hey, be careful with that. You’ve got to start slow.”
I shrugged and chuckled. “Why? Is it going to break?”
“No. Just smooth your hand all along the length…then run your thumb over the tip and—”
“Why am I doing this?”
“Everyone’s got to start somewhere,” she muttered. “By the way, they’re not usually this curvy.”
“Usually?” I perked a brow and humored my friend, curling my hand around the vegetable, gliding up and down, brushing the top, and feeling for firmness at the same time.
“Harper?” a woman’s soft voice called.
My head shot up and I found a familiar woman staring at me with the eggplant, her mouth half open.
“Grace,” I squealed. Troy’s mother was a tall woman, much like her sons. She had curly auburn hair and amazing skin for her age. The woman was always young at heart. I remembered her shouting like one of the cheerleaders during hockey games in high school.
“How are you? I didn’t know you were back in town.” She came over to me and wrapped her arms around me.
“For about two months now, yeah. Um, h-how are you, Grace?”
“Oh, so good to see you, hun.” She glanced at the dark purple vegetable in my hand. “You gonna buy that?”
“Yep. Just the one.” I tossed it into my basket. I felt like I owed the thing that much after violating it.
Nic stepped away to the freezer aisle, and Grace leaned into me, lowering her sweet voice. “What were you doing with that eggplant?”
“Oh, I was just making sure it was ripe. It’s an old trick someone taught me.”
She nodded thoughtfully but her expression saddened, “Your mother?”
Ugh, should have just told her I was jerking it off.
“I’m so sorry about your mom. We all are.”
“Yes, Dad and I got all your fruit baskets and flowers. Thank you.”
She rubbed my shoulder. “Are you back for good?”
“For now.” I nodded, feeling the warmth that just came naturally from this woman.
“Well, you call me if you ever need anything. I’m sure my boys will be happy to know your back.”
“Thanks, Grace. I appreciate it.”
She walked past me to the next aisle and I immediately made my way to checkout, telling Nic to meet me outside when she was done.
Utterly mortified, I prayed Grace bought my story. If not, I prayed to neve r run into her again.