Chapter 14 – Josie
chapter
fourteen
Josie
Thanks to Lena and Kimmy, the after-party was fun.
Right up until I saw that blonde attached to Waylon’s arm.
Don’t you mean it was fun until you tried to get your boyfriend in bed, but he couldn’t get it up and passed out on you?
Fun times.
But this morning, Marcus texted to say he wanted to make it up to me and hang out. Somehow, spending time together was harder now than when I’d been a state away.
So picture my surprised face when I turned up at the rink to find no Marcus.
I’d rearranged my entire afternoon for this. Swapped a tutoring shift, skipped a run, showered, and put on actual clothes that weren’t leggings because Marcus had made it sound like a date, a real one, including dinner maybe. I should have known better.
Players trickled out of the east entrance in twos and threes, gym bags slung over their shoulders, hair still damp. I got some head nods and smiles. The tall blond one, I think Ryder, nudged another when he saw me. I pretended not to notice.
The door swung open again, and my stomach did the stupid hopeful thing, except it wasn’t at the sight of my boyfriend.
Nope. It was Waylon in all his enormous glory.
Waylon came through the door, still tugging on a hoodie that showed off delicious glimpses of lean abs.
His sweats hung so low on his hips that I could see the V-line that disappeared into the waistband.
His damp hair was pushed back from his face, and his skin was still flushed from the shower. I forgot every thought I’d ever had.
I have a boyfriend. I have a boyfriend. I have a boyfriend.
He saw me and stopped. Then that dimple appeared, the one on the left side that wasn’t fair on a man who already had those shoulders and that jaw and those green eyes, which were currently looking me over like I’d invited him to.
“Flash.” He leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms, and the movement did something obscene to his biceps. “You waiting for someone, or did you just come to watch me walk out of a building?”
“In your dreams, Thor.”
“Every night.” He said it without missing a beat, like he meant it, and my neck got hot so fast I had to look away.
I crossed my arms tighter. “I’m waiting for Marcus.”
He looked annoyed for a second. His jaw tightened, like he was holding back what he wanted to say. Then it passed, and the easy grin came back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but he left about twenty minutes ago.” The teasing dropped out of his voice. “But good news, you’ve got me.”
My stomach dropped. “What?”
“Yeah.” Waylon pushed off the doorframe. “He was the first one out after practice. Saw him heading for the parking lot while I was in the tunnel. Had his phone out and it looked like he was in a hurry.”
In a hurry to go somewhere that was not here, where he had told me to meet him.
“You okay?” Waylon asked, and for a second, the flirting was gone from his voice. He sounded like he actually cared, and my chest ached in a way I was not going to think about.
“I’m fine.” I hitched my bag higher on my shoulder. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Sure.” He fell into step beside me without asking, matching his stride to mine like he’d been doing it for years. “That’s why your jaw is doing that thing.”
“My jaw isn’t doing a thing.”
“It’s doing a thing. Right here.” He tapped his own jaw. “You clench when you’re annoyed. It’s kinda cute.”
“Nothing about me is cute. And stop noticing things about my face.”
“Can’t help it.” He shrugged, all six-three of him moving in that easy athletic way of his. “It’s a good face.”
Well, shit.
I pressed my lips together to kill the smile before it started and stared straight ahead at the parking lot. “Thanks anyway.” I turned to go, and to my annoyance, he followed.
“You don’t have to walk me to my car.”
“I know.”
He kept walking.
We crossed the lot in silence, which was more awkward than it should have been for two people who were supposed to be nothing to each other.
His arm brushed mine once, and I felt it all the way through me, which was ridiculous, because it was his forearm grazing my jacket sleeve.
I moved half a step to the right. He didn’t close the gap, but he noticed. I saw his mouth twitch.
When we got to my car, I turned to face him, and that was a mistake because he was closer than I’d calculated. The parking lot lights caught his eyes, and I didn’t stand a chance.
“Thanks,” I said. “For telling me. About Marcus.”
He looked at me a beat too long, like he wanted to say more than he was saying, and my pulse picked up.
“Night, Flash.” He said it low and warm.
He turned and walked away, and I stood there with my keys digging into my palm, watching him go and hating the fact that I already knew exactly what his shoulders looked like from this angle.
Girl, get in the car.
For once, I listened.
Twenty minutes later, I was still thinking about him when I got home, kicked off my shoes, and found Marcus sitting on my couch.
I screamed. A full horror-movie shriek that probably woke up Kimmy next door.
“Babe, relax.” He had his feet on my coffee table and a Gatorade from my fridge in his hand. “I came to see you.”
“How did you get in?”
He grinned. “Front door.”
“I asked you not to do that.”
“What’s the big deal?”
“I like privacy.”
“I was waiting for you,” I added, dropping my bag by the door. “At the arena. Where you told me to be.”
He waved that off. “No, babe, we agreed to meet here. Practice ran late. That was the plan, right?”
It was not the plan. But Marcus had a gift for rewriting history so smoothly you almost believed the new version.
“I have the text, Marcus.”
“Whatever. Don’t make this a thing. Let’s just watch a movie or something.”
“Who walked you to your car?”
“Marcus—”
“Christ, Jos. Don’t pick a fight.”
“I’m not. But I changed my schedule to accommodate you, and you’re making me feel crazy.”
He rolled his eyes and dropped onto the couch. “Should have known you’d find a reason not to pick up where we left off last night.”
I stared at him. “This is hard, Marcus. What are we doing?”
“I’m hard, Josie. And I thought we’d finally be making progress. But prude Josie is back. I mean, you act like you didn’t come here so we could have more us time.”
I stepped back. “I did, but you have to admit that something’s off. Which makes it hard to want to jump your bones right now.”
“Come here.” He reached for my waist and pulled me in. “You moved here. Finally. I thought you’d be on board by now.”
On board? Like sex was a business proposal I’d been sitting on. Three years together and we’d never slept together, and this was how he wanted to talk about it.
Also talk about pressure. He brought it up constantly and from every angle, like if he just found the right approach, I’d crack. Like what he cared about most was getting me to give in and not about how I felt.
What else is new.
He leaned in to kiss me. His mouth landed at the corner of mine because I turned my head, a move I’d perfected into an art form. Underneath the mint gum and Gatorade was a perfume that wasn’t mine.
It wasn’t the first time I’d caught that.
“Marcus, you stood me up and then broke into my apartment. I’m not in the mood.”
His jaw tightened with that flash of irritation he thought he hid but never managed to. I’d been reading his face for three years. I knew all of his looks.
When I turned away, he caught my wrist a little too hard.
When I winced, he released me immediately.
“Fuck, Josie, I’m sorry.” I rubbed my wrist. I told myself he’d never really hurt me — he just didn’t know his strength.
I’d gotten good at telling myself that. It was why I refused to play or roughhouse with him. Even tickling became a contact sport.
He shoved both hands through his hair.
“It’s always something with you, Josie.” He dropped his hands.
“I come all the way here to spend time with you, and you give me the cold shoulder.” When he started pacing, I put some distance between us.
It would be better that way. I did hate that we weren’t at least in a semi-public place for this conversation.
He narrowed his gaze at me. “Fuck, are you fucking someone else?”
All I could do was stare at him. “Marcus, are you seriously asking me that? Between work, classes, and training, when would I have the time? And in case you missed it, I have a boyfriend!” Who sadly is currently being a jerk.
“I have needs, Josie. So you’re going to need to figure your shit out.”
He said it under his breath like it slipped out, but nothing Marcus said was an accident.
“Get out.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I’m too angry to talk to you right now.” The tears pricked my eyes, but I refused to cry in front of him. He liked it too much.
His phone buzzed. He pulled it out, glanced at the screen, and his entire face changed.
It wasn’t anger, and it wasn’t the flat look he wore when he was annoyed with me.
His eyes went soft, and the corner of his mouth twitched up.
For half a second, he looked like a different person.
He looked happy, genuinely happy to hear from whoever was on the other end of that text.
“You know what, great idea. Let’s take a fucking break before you say some shit you regret.”
“What about what you’ll regret?”
He typed back fast with both thumbs, then pocketed his phone and turned to me.
“You started this, Josie, not me.” He grabbed his hoodie from the dining room chair. “I’ll call you later.”
The door closed. I stood in my kitchen and listened to his footsteps fade.
I locked the front door and checked it twice, then leaned against it with my palms flat on the cold wood.
Why the fuck did I let him do this to me?