Chapter 3
THREE
Who Is Golden Boy?
YANA
Dressed in pink pj’s, with a glass of prosecco in her hand, Chloe sits on my bed. Gilmore Girls is playing on the TV, but her attention is on me.
“I can’t believe you’re really doing it,” she mutters for what has to be the third time. “Why can’t you stay with me?”
I toss a hoodie into my duffel bag and straighten. “I can’t believe you’re watching this show again.”
She bristles. “This is my comfort show.” Tilting to one side, she sets her glass on top of the nightstand.
“You’re trying to change the subject, and I don’t like it.
” She slides closer to me. “I made all kinds of plans for the Christmas party, and they all included you. I promise it will be a thousand times better than anything you could do in that cabin in the woods.”
“I don’t even celebrate Christmas on the twenty-fifth.” I shake my head. “For me it’s just a date on the calendar. I wasn’t thinking about parties when I planned this trip.”
“Why can’t you cancel it?”
I groan and close my eyes. “Physically, I’m ready for the start of the season.
My team is happy with the progress I’ve made, and I am too.
I’m really fucking proud of the way I’ve bounced back.
” I fix my focus on her. “But mentally? Some things are still too weird, too dark. I need time alone, away from the noise of the city, to focus on myself. To remind myself why I’m doing all this.
So I don’t lose sight of my abilities and potential. I’m a good tennis player—”
“One of the best.” Chloe snags my hand. “Sorry. I shouldn’t push you. And I should’ve realized you had a damn good reason to go on this solo trip.”
“Thank you.” I give her hand a squeeze.
My phone buzzes on the flowery comforter, but before I can pick it up, Chloe snatches it and gapes at the screen.
One brow arched, she asks, “Who is Golden Boy?”
Ohyenno1.
“No one.” I sigh.
A smirk curves her lips. “Pity.” She shoves my phone in my face, unlocking the screen in the process, then scrambles off the bed. “Let’s see.”
Jaw dropping, I stare at her as she darts into the hallway. “Chloe!” I run after her, but before I can catch up, she closes the bathroom door in my face. The moment she screeches, I know she’s figured out who Golden Boy is.
“Oh. My. God.” She throws the door open, wearing a maniacal grin, no doubt because she’s seen the selfies Logan sent me. “Tell me more. Please.”
I take my phone from her and return to the bedroom.
She follows me, constantly repeating “tell me more” and “please.”
Love this for me.
“Yana, I’m begging you. My love life has been as dry as the Sahara Desert. I need some romance to brighten my spirits. Some fresh gossip. Even if it’s only a few crumbs.” She climbs onto my bed in front of me. “Please, give this little dog a bone!”
Laughter bubbles out of me. She’s fucking ridiculous.
“Fine,” I huff good-naturedly. “He texted me a couple of days after he asked for my number. Invited me to the movies, and I said yes.” I shrug. “The movie was good. He was nice. I let him kiss me. We’ve been texting since.”
Her jaw drops. “You let Logan Reid kiss you? The Logan Reid? The Thunders’ left wing? You let him kiss you on the first date?”
“It wasn’t a big deal.” I zip my bag shut a little too aggressively. “We’re both athletes. We both have ridiculously busy schedules, so it’s better to go ahead and figure out whether we’re compatible now rather than waste time dragging it out.”
“Wow.” Snorting, she slumps. “That’s the least romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“I was being pragmatic when I agreed to the date. But the kiss was nice. Romantic, even.”
“It must have been more than nice. Otherwise, I can’t imagine he’d be sending those kinds of selfies to you.” Winking, she reaches for her glass. “The one with his abs and the waistband of his pants? Delicious.”
“Is sex all you think about?”
She bites her bottom lip, eyes glinting brightly. “Maybe, but only because I haven’t been fucked senseless in two months.”
“Pfft. Must be nice. It’s been six for me.”
Her jaw drops for the second time tonight.
Annoyance flares in my chest, making my skin itchy.
“For the love of God, text Logan back. Maybe he can dick you down before you leave for your adventure in the woods.” She lifts her glass as if she’s toasting to the idea. “To your vagina getting some action.”
With a roll of my eyes, I pull my phone from my pocket.
Golden Boy:
did you watch the game?
I texted him earlier, congratulating him on his team’s win.
Me:
yeah. the team was awesome, especially Roma
Golden Boy:
thanks, but singling out Roman when it was a team effort? rude
Golden Boy:
especially because I’m the one who scored a hat trick
Me:
show-off
Me:
without the team’s amazing defense and your goalie’s shutout, your hat trick would’ve been useless
Golden Boy:
totally get why you and Roman get along so well
Golden Boy:
your honesty is admirable
Me:
sorry
Golden Boy:
you’re lucky I really like you
Me:
or what?
Golden Boy:
or I’d have to make you admit you like me too
I grin at my screen; his confidence is sexy.
“Aww, you’re so into him,” Chloe murmurs. “You should invite him over. I can leave.” She moves to the edge of the bed.
“Sit your ass down,” I order her as I set my duffel bag on the floor. “I’m done packing. Let’s watch your so-called comfort show together.”
Giggling, she obeys, getting comfortable. Just as I climb onto the bed beside her, my phone buzzes again.
Golden Boy:
still going to Tahoe tomorrow? Any fun plans for tonight?
Me:
yeah. my friend’s with me
Golden Boy:
have fun then! talk soon
Me:
you too
I toss my phone on the nightstand and focus on the TV. I’ve seen the entire series before, and it’s okay. I’m more of a Vampire Diaries kind of girl, or Supernatural. Though I also love rewatching old holiday movies in December. That’s on my to-do list for my week alone.
“How about sharing with the class?” Chloe nudges me as she sips her drink.
“I’m not exactly good with sharing. Sorry.”
She assesses me, a slow smile creeping onto her lips. “Neither am I. I could never share, but I don’t think I’d mind being shared, if you know what I mean…”
I bang my head against the headboard. “I swear, if—”
“I’m kidding, babe.” She laughs. “Only kidding.”
I check the GPS and sigh. It’s a four-hour drive, but it’s early, so once I get to the cabin, I’ll have most of the day to relax.
The back seat of my Escalade is filled with two duffel bags and two bags of groceries.
The first stretch is nothing but highway.
Even this early, traffic slows things down.
With an iced latte in my cup holder and a randomly picked playlist—a weird mix of English and Russian songs—at full volume, I sing along, rapping my fingers to the rhythm of the music.
Anything to keep my mind busy.
The longer I drive, the higher the road climbs, and the more the freeway thins out.
Once I hit the Sierras, it’s like flipping a switch.
Pines line the road, tall and endless, their crowns dusted with snow.
The crystal blue sky stretches wide, and the view puts a smile on my face.
I keep my eyes trained on the road ahead of me as it becomes more winding, slowing me down.
I don’t mind it at all. The freedom this ride gives me loosens the tight knots in my shoulders that settled in months ago.
When I finally pull up to the cabin, it’s like I’ve fallen down the well in the Brothers Grimm fairy tale “Mother Hulda.” Like I’ve woken up to find myself in a strange and unfamiliar world.
The pines are covered in snow, and the ground is a glistening white.
I park the car and hurry inside, realizing my ankle-length black jeans, red sneakers, and red hoodie aren’t quite weather appropriate.
The cabin looks just like it did in the pictures online. Three bedrooms, a little kitchen, a stone fireplace in the living room. There are no neighbors in sight, but it’s still close enough to town that I can make the drive to pick up cheese and milk.
Once I settle in, I call my parents to let them know I made it, then send a few messages to my team and Chloe to check in as well.
The silence around me makes every notification of a reply feel louder. And in the beat after the notification, the quiet is nearly deafening, making me feel lonelier.
While being alone was the whole point of this trip, I can’t help but text Logan. Just to see how he is and cut through the quiet.
Me:
made it to the cabin, settled in, turned on Home Alone. what about you?
Golden Boy:
a woman after my own heart. please tell me you also love watching Christmas movies?
Me:
I do. though not only Hollywood ones
Golden Boy:
I’m curious. Want to share titles? Maybe a few you think I’d like?
Me:
nah, they’re in Russian
Golden Boy:
Ever heard of these things called subtitles?
Me:
that’s the only way I watch movies, genius
Golden Boy:
my point exactly
Me:
I’ll think about it and make you a list
Golden Boy:
thanks what does the cabin look like?
Me:
it’s cozy and cute. Definitely has a postcard vibe. though Chloe thinks I’m gonna lose my mind in the silence
Golden Boy:
good thing she’s there to keep you company
I blink at the screen. Should I correct him, remind him that I’m here alone? No. He can think whatever he wants.
Golden Boy:
so, Queen, are you texting me because you miss me?
Queen? My heart does a stupid little flip, sending my pulse into a sprint.
Me:
just figured I’d let you know, in case I go missing in the woods
Golden Boy:
maybe you should send me your location then
Me:
that’s not what I meant
Still, my thumb hovers over the map app longer than it should.
It feels reckless. Too personal. No one besides my team, Chloe, and my parents knows where I am.
I chew on the inside of my cheek and count to ten.
When I still haven’t talked myself out of it, I copy my location and drop the pin into the chat.
Me: