Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
maya
Cole Berrett
Have fun in class, baby. See you after the game.
Maya Silver
Good luck!!
With my phone on silent and secured in my pocket once more, I push open the creaky door of auditorium 111.
My classmates huddle in small groups, catching up on what their friends and acquaintances have been up to since our last class.
I slide into an empty seat next to Brian, who’s regaling a few other students with tales of his rec league’s basketball game.
The mood has changed dramatically since our first class, when we all sat in silence, rows away from each other.
It didn’t take long for us to find the people we clicked with and create bonds.
There’s something about reading someone’s first draft that knocks any vulnerability or shyness away.
“Does anyone want to grab drinks after this?” Marie asks. She’s a first-grade teacher interested in writing children’s books. “I desperately need one. Or two. Who are we kidding? I need a pitcher of margaritas.”
“Don’t tell me someone mispronounced another word,” I tease, taking my notebook out of my bag.
Her students are learning to read, and in the past two weeks, the same kid has mispronounced cook as cock, and, even more hilariously, dump truck as dumb fuck.
I asked her for book recommendations for Violet and Lily—since I’m a little out of my element when it comes to children’s books—and texted the list to Emily.
Yup. I have his sister’s number. Both of his sisters, in fact.
His mother? She’s already texted me, asking for book recommendations for her newly formed book club.
It should freak me out. But it doesn’t. And that is what’s freaking me out.
“Thankfully, no.” Marie makes the sign of the cross like she’s in church. “But it’s parent-teacher conference season. My own personal hell.”
“I’m down for a drink,” Brian easily agrees. “There’s a great dive bar near here. You in, Maya?”
I shake my head as I flip to the page I’m looking for. “I’m headed to the Bobcats game after class. Maybe next week?”
Marie nibbles on the edge of her pen, head tilted in consideration. “I never would have marked you as a sports girl.”
“Sports romances, yes. Sports… not so much,” I admit with a laugh. “But my boyfriend plays professionally, so I’m a hockey fan by proxy.”
Brian and Marie stare at me, jaws gaping, before the rapid-fire questioning begins.
As they talk over each other, I sink into my chair and hold up my hands.
I sometimes forget that professional athletes are considered famous.
I never think about Cole’s popularity until we’re out at dinner and a server or a person from a nearby table asks for an autograph or we’re walking Goose and everyone we pass does a double take.
“Who are you dating?” Marie demands, her auburn corkscrew curls bouncing wildly. “And how are we just finding out about this?”
“I’d like to think there are a lot more interesting things about me than who—”
“I bet it’s Cameron Davies,” she cuts me off. “Am I right? He’s got that whole growly thing going on. It’s totally sexy.”
I press a hand to my chest and laugh. Cole is going to hate that. “No, I’m not dating Cam. My boyfriend’s Nicholas Berrett.”
It feels weird calling him Nicholas, since I’ve only ever known him as Cole.
It also feels weird calling him my boyfriend because he’s transcended whatever the hell I thought a boyfriend should be.
What I had with Josh and other men I’ve dated is laughable.
Yes, part of that is my fault because I probably never gave them the chance to mean more to me, but even if I had, there’s no way they could have ever made me feel the way Cole does.
Like my name is a prayer and my smile can chase any storm cloud away.
“You’re dating Nicholas Berrett.” Marie blinks slowly and does the sign of the cross again. “Holy shit, Maya.”
Brian whistles under his breath. “You have to take us to a game.”
As he dreams up ways to turn a Bobcats game into a writing challenge or exercise, I take out my phone to update Cole.
Maya Silver
Brian and Marie want to come to a game!
Cole Berrett
I might consider it. Though it depends. Does Brian know I’m your boyfriend?
Maya Silver
Marie thought Cameron was. LOL. But yes, he does. *insert eye roll here*
Cole Berrett
Ignoring the first part. Does he also know that I’m the only one who gets to see you naked?
Maya Silver
Jealousy is kind of hot on you.
Cole Berrett
Not as hot as you on your knees sucking my cock.
Maya Silver
Mind if I use that line in one of my writing prompts? I think it’ll add some ~flavor~ to my story.
Cole Berrett
How is it possible that you blatantly ignoring my sext is somehow sexier than if you had actually responded?
Maya Silver
Magic. See you later!
I’ll be the one on my knees sucking your cock… in case that wasn’t clear.
Just as I’m tucking my phone into my bag, Jaden waltzes into the room. Their skirt swishes against the floor as they make their way to the desk stationed in front of the old-school blackboard. Clapping once, they greet us. “My apologies for the tardiness. Let’s jump right into things.”
I scribble notes furiously as I follow the lesson on how effective writing involves making conscious choices about words, pausing only occasionally so my fingers don’t cramp. It makes me jealous of Cole’s ambidextrousness. I can attest he’s just as talented with both hands, on and off the ice.
We split into small groups for a writing exercise during the second half of class. Marie’s arguing with Brian over whether including “um” in dialogue can be beneficial when Jaden waves me over to their desk.
My stomach drops to my feet. While I don’t think it’s possible to be in trouble during a class I’m voluntarily attending—and I haven’t done anything to get myself into trouble in the first place—that doesn’t make me any less nervous. Marie calls it teacher’s pet syndrome.
The skin around Jaden’s lips crinkles as they smile at me. They wouldn’t smile if I was in trouble, right? “Maya. I just finished reading your short story from last week and I have to say, I’m very impressed.”
My cheeks heat and my heart thuds heavily. “Really?”
Our only parameters were that the story had to include a royal saying the word “fucking idiot” on national television.
I truly have no idea where they come up with these plots, but it did kick my creative juices into gear.
Once I put pen to paper—or, more aptly, my fingers to the keyboard—the story flowed from me.
I’ve never finished an assignment so quickly.
“Yes. I think you should continue with it.”
“It’s a short story, though.”
Way to state the obvious, dumbass.
“That doesn’t mean it can’t be something more. Seek out elements of your story that could benefit from embellishment or exploration,” Jaden suggests. “Add new characters. It’s your story, so you choose which direction it goes in. Think about it.”
“I will,” I agree with a smile.
As I return to my seat, Brian shoots me a questioning glance but is too focused on winning his argument to ask questions.
My mind wanders for the rest of the workshop, turning Jaden’s words over and trying to make sense of the advice.
I wrote the story the day after meeting Cole’s family.
The genuine support and unconditional love they have for one another brought some of the lingering sadness related to my own upbringing to the surface.
I needed an outlet for the despondence I thought I’d long ago buried, so I poured all my emotions into my writing assignment.
Apparently, it paid off.
The moment class ends, I call a rideshare and head to Airwave Arena.
Only five months ago, I was attending my first hockey game, and now I weave my way through the crowds like an expert.
Finding the suite is no longer a challenge, and Hank—a.k.a.
Batman’s Butler—greets me with a welcome smile.
The one surprise is finding Kennedy in the plush seats with her legs kicked up like it’s her personal office.
“Um, hi,” I greet her as I slip off my coat. “I thought you weren’t coming until the second period.”
She hops from the seat like a damn kangaroo and wraps me in a hug. “My! I did the event drop-off earlier than expected, so here I am. Lucky you. God, it feels like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“It’s been five days,” I remind her. “And we video-called yesterday.”
“As I said, it’s been forever.”
“Drama queen,” I laugh, shaking out of her embrace. Her smoke detector went off twice during the thirty minutes we were on the phone. “You’ve been the one baking more cookies than The Great British Bake Off does in an entire season.”
“I brought you some extras. You’re welcome. They’re in my purse.”
I eye her oversized black bag. “You brought cookies to the game?”
“Oh, calm down.” She waves a dismissive hand. “I said cookies, not cocaine. And it’s no worse than you bringing your e-reader.”
“I didn’t, thank you very much.”
Never thought I’d prioritize a sport over my sports romances, but weirder things have happened. Maybe.
I wander to the buffet table and make myself a plate before joining Kennedy.
Neither of us says a word as we ogle the players warming up.
Honestly, it’s very suggestive. One player rests on his knee pads, pushing his legs spread eagle and tilting his hips down to the ice.
Another swivels and thrusts his hips to “open them up.” I told Cole it looks like they’re fucking air, and for a solid fifteen minutes, he couldn’t decide whether he was offended or amused.
“Cole must be flexible,” Kennedy comments with a slow clap. The man in question maneuvers his body into a stretch he calls the figure 4 twist.
“My sex life has definitely reaped the benefits of his workout routine,” I admit. Considering I’m just over five feet and can barely touch my toes, Cole’s flexibility is all the more impressive.