Chapter 18
~Hudson~
Riley giggles as we head to my room, the bags of Vietnamese take-out food we picked up on the way back to the hotel in one of my hands as I dig around in the pocket of my jeans for the keycard to my room.
She’s almost giddy with excitement from her skate today and I know exactly how she feels.
I felt the same way last night. Hell, I felt the same way today watching her skate and seeing her tap into the potential she’s always had.
I was ready to spend the night dancing at a club and working off all the excess energy buzzing within both of us, but when she said she wanted to hang out at the hotel instead, I couldn’t say no.
More time alone with her? Yes, fucking please.
“Do you need to call anyone?” I ask once we’re inside.
I start emptying the bags, placing the containers of food on the small table in the room while Riley leaps onto the bed, bouncing from the force with which she flung herself onto it.
“Your parents? Friends? Who do you usually share these moments with?”
She leans backward so her back hits the mattress, her arms spread wide and her gaze focused on the ceiling. I’ve never seen her so loose and uninhibited. Almost like she’s drunk, which, in a way, she is: drunk on success and fulfillment. It’s the most powerful high I’ve ever known.
“Well, usually I share it with Trevor,” she states bluntly. “Since he turned out to be a lying, cheating ass, I won’t be calling him. My mom is probably busy, my dad might as well not exist, and I have no other friends since my ‘best friend’ is a lying, cheating ass too.”
Ouch. My wince at her blunt assessment of her social circle doesn’t go unnoticed, but she shakes her head as she faces me.
“Skip the pity party. I’m starving.”
The bed creaks as she sits up again, and I hand her some of the food, grabbing a container for myself and sitting down next to her.
“You’re allowed to still be upset about what happened,” I point out. “It’s only been a month.”
“That’s one way to look at it,” she concedes. “Or I could say: it’s already been a month! Time to move on.”
“Have you spoken to either of them yet?” Last time we talked about it, she hadn’t, but if she truly wants to move on, I really think she should.
Riley’s opinion on the matter, however, hasn’t changed. “No, and I don’t intend to.”
“Nationals might be a bit awkward if you haven’t cleared the air before then.”
Even if she can avoid Trevor, she’ll definitely see Evelyn. They’ll be on the ice together for practices and warm-ups, not to mention backstage. It could affect Riley’s performance, and I don’t want that to happen, not after she just showed everyone how good she can be.
“It’s going to be awkward anyway,” she declares. “But they’re the ones who should feel awkward about it, not me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Although I agree with her, I’d still rather see her deal with it before then. However, since she’s not asking for my input, I shift the subject a little. “Well, I might see Trevor before then. If he medals next week, we’ll both be at the Grand Prix Final. Are you planning to go?”
Riley’s 13th-place finish at Skate America means that, despite her bronze medal today, she doesn’t have enough points to make the final. My first-place finish, however, combined with the fourth I got at Skate Canada, secures my spot.
Normally, she wouldn’t go if she wasn’t skating, but this year, the Final is taking place in Calgary, just a few hours away from where we live and train.
A big group from the club will be travelling down to support the people who are competing, so if Riley wants to come, there’ll be a place for her.
“I haven’t really thought about it,” she admits. “But I’d like to cheer you on.”
“I’d really like that too.”
We move on to talking about other things while we finish off the food and break out the wine that Riley insisted we pick up.
Neither of us is going to get drunk since we have to be up early in the morning to fly home, but one drink won’t hurt.
Somehow, we both end up leaning back against the headboard of the bed while I tell a ridiculous yet true story about Keaton losing his skates before a competition.
“I swear he was about to get on his hands and knees and start looking under every table. If he hadn’t…”
Out of nowhere, Riley leans over and kisses me.
It’s one hell of an interruption. Her warm lips, a little sweet from the white wine she’s been drinking, press hard against mine. Not by accident, like they did on the amusement park ride, but with complete intent and purpose.
And I… I just freeze.
I’ve imagined kissing her a hundred times or more since that day.
I imagined a slow build up: hands grazing, knees touching, and the sheer magnetism pulling us closer and closer together until we’re both powerless to resist it.
I imagined a romantic setting, looking up at a night sky twinkling with stars or a sunset over the river.
I imagined her whispering to me that she changed her mind, that the attraction between us is so strong that it made her reconsider her position about not dating anyone from the club.
I imagined all kinds of things, but I didn’t imagine this, lounging around in a hotel room, wine in hand, flush off the thrill of victory on the ice and completely out of the blue.
No matter how much I want her, it feels wrong, and I place a gentle hand on her face as I pull back to look her in the eyes. “What was that for?”
If she says those magic words now - I changed my mind - my lips are going right back on hers, and every other part of her she’ll let me kiss.
Those aren’t the words that came out of her mouth, though. Her eyes, brighter than usual, look back at me with anticipation and a good sprinkling of desire, but nothing deeper than that.
I feel the gut punch coming even before she delivers it.
“You said we could celebrate. I thought we could have some fun together.”
Fun. My throat tightens but I keep my eyes on hers, wanting to be sure I completely understand. “What kind of fun?”
Her gaze drops to my body on the bed beside her. “I think that’s pretty obvious.”
Clearly, she doesn’t want to say the words, but I need to hear them, so I press further. “And what would it mean to you?”
A grunt of frustration huffs out of her. “Why does it have to mean anything? We’re both single, we’re friends, we can just… have some fun.”
“So, a friends-with-benefits sort of situation?”
Her big brown eyes light up. “Yes. Exactly!”
And there it is: she’s attracted to me but she’s still afraid. By making it ‘just for fun’, she takes all the risk out of it, but all the reward too. It cheapens what, at least in my eyes, could be something real.
When she leans in again, her pretty perfume filling my nose, I lean back before our lips connect, keeping the same distance between us. “That’s not going to work for me, Riley.”
This time, she’s the one that freezes, confusion and a bit of hurt flashing across her pretty face. “What? Why? I thought you were attracted to me.”
“I am. Fuck, I really am, but I want more from you than casual sex when you’re riding your adrenaline buzz.
I’ve been completely honest about how I feel, and if I agree to this, hoping that you’ll eventually change your mind, that makes me a bit of a creep.
Since I don’t want to be a creep, I’m going to have to say no. ”
I try to keep my tone light to let her know I’m not upset with her.
The opposite, actually; I’m thrilled that she’s feeling the chemistry between us enough to want to sleep with me, and to act on it, but I also think she’s simply looking for somewhere to put her extra energy, and that’s not what I want to be to her.
I want so much more.
Riley pulls back, out of my reach, the hurt on her face morphing into embarrassment despite my efforts not to make her feel bad. “Alright. Fine. You’ve made your point.”
She shuffles off the bed, looking for the shoes that she kicked off earlier, and my heart sinks. “You don’t have to go. Why don’t we watch a movie or something? Or we can still go out, it’s not that late yet.”
“It isn’t,” she agrees, slipping her shoes on and bending down to tie them, not letting me see her face. “I think I will go out. I’m sure the others will still be at the club. Maybe one of them will want to spend the night with me.”
“Riley.” Her name comes out as a groan, the thought of her running off on her own to pick up some other guy sending a literal stab of pain through my heart. “I’ll go with you. We can dance or…”
“No.” When she stands back up, her eyes are blazing and red colours her cheeks. “I don’t want to go anywhere with you. This was a mistake.”
It sure as hell feels that way, but whether I screwed up or she did, I can’t be sure. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
“Don’t tell me what to do. You don’t even know me. I don’t know why I thought…”
She trails off, the words getting tied up in her mouth, and she shakes her head, not bothering to finish her sentence.
She slips out the door instead, and I groan again as I lean back, my head thudding against the headboard. What did I just do? What if I not only lost my chance to be with her, but I lost her friendship too?
Did I just fuck this up entirely?