Chapter 12
Gillian
M dramatically cranes his face closer to the camera prior to playfully poking, “Are those really blonde tips in your hair?”
“Yeah.” Touching them thoughtlessly occurs. “What do you think? Too Cyndi Lauper?”
“Maybe if your whole head was blonde, aye,” he lightly laughs at the same time I lean back in my office chair.
“You know this is the first time I’ve ever died my hair.”
“Does this count?” A playful cringe precedes more laughing. “I mean…this is just the tip…just a feel…”
“Why do I feel like you’re recounting your first time with Mari?”
Additional chuckles rip through him prompting me to victoriously smirk.
Gahhhhh, I miss him.
I don’t remember the last time we spent this much time apart.
Not physically – because hockey has always done that – but like mentally.
Between his conferences and work events and me – finally – having my own social life that doesn’t revolve around him or my friends, our schedules just aren’t meshing.
It’s weird.
Not quite Weird Al weird, but still pretty weird.
“Is it safe to assume the bud you’re dating is responsible for the hair risk?” investigates my big brother.
Sort of?
Bronny wanted to do it after he saw some Tik Tok, so I stopped to get the materials on my way over from work – since he texted me – and once we got started on him – with Jukes blessing – one thing led to another, ending with him looking like a Justin Timberlake lookalike contestant and me ready for a forgotten episode of TRL.
I will say Thayne likes the color because I like the color.
And I like it because it’s something different.
Something I randomly just went for.
Which didn’t happen a lot before Thayne entered my life.
“Um…” my head bounces back and forth in contemplation, “in a way?”
“Uh-huh,” judgingly hums my best friend, “and what else has this pylon gotten you to try?”
“Is that a sex reference?” I teasingly taunt.
“Is he getting you to try weird sex stuff?!”
“Sex is like coffee, M. Just because it’s unusual to you, doesn’t mean it’s not the usual for someone else.”
“You sound like Groffee.”
Panic instantly gets my heart racing.
Shit!
Do I?
Does he know?
Is now the time for him to know?!
Is this the big, beautiful, DJ in the sky’s way of telling me to cue the track?!
All of a sudden, a voice in the background shouts something, derailing the notion altogether, “Fuckme, I gotta go, Gilly.”
“Already? We just started the convo.”
“I know, but they wanna do brewskies with Reichy before has to get back to NY. His team’s got even more shit going on than mine does.”
Surprise tilts my head slightly to the side. “Dalvegan’s got problems?”
“Few injuries that haven’t healed – putting us at a disadvantage to start the season – couple players we were expecting to resign but can’t – fucking with cap space – one of the Goonie Tunes has some huge issue with the new, on deck chef, plus the usual round up of media scheduling, training camp, the annual team outing as well as our exhibition games. ”
A sympathetic wince is all I seem capable of offering.
Okay.
Perhaps now wouldn’t be the right time to add me dating one of his players onto the pile.
“Not to mention we’ve gotta get all the kids back to school stuff together including their yearly doc appointments and cleaning with you.”
“I see them next week.”
“At least I know I can always count on someone.”
An undeniable ache spreads viciously through my chest, yet I force myself to nod in agreement.
“Yeah!” he abruptly barks to someone offscreen, attention darting over to the person. “Fuck, bud. I’m coming.” The instant our eyes lock once more he half-heartedly grins. “Sorry, sis. I’ll text later. Maybe the boyfriend can spare you for a few and we can do another call.”
“Maybe.”
“Tell that plug to stay on the O and he won’t need to get on the D when he finally meets me.”
“Okay that was definitely a sex reference.”
M warmly chuckles, winks, and ends the video chat leaving me to bittersweetly smile all alone.
As much as I wish we had more time to talk, I’m not so sure I could keep the details of dating Thayne to myself for much longer.
And honestly?
Floss more, whiten less, honestly?
I’m kind of enjoying what we have without outside influences or opinions.
Particularly one that has quite the habit of making or breaking things sometimes.
Vibrations indicate an incoming text from my parents; however, a sassy knock followed immediately by my office door opening prevents it from being opened.
“Ooooo, Doc,” Rhonnie croons the instant her stare meets mine. “Your personal soap opera has not stopped since they’ve been here.”
Not grinning isn’t even considered.
“They’re giving me full fledge Dynasty meets Dallas bitch slaps Days of Our Lives show finale vibes.”
“That’s sounds so dramatic.”
“That’s what they’ve been this entire time,” Rhonnie sassily smirks. “Don’t tell me you haven’t heard them.”
“I haven’t.”
She lifts one pointed finger and theatrically touches the curve of her ear.
“You wanna pick out the color of my toothbrush for me too!?” emotionally shouts Bronny.
“At least then I’d know you have a goddamn toothbrush!” my boyfriend yells in return.
“See,” my patient service lead tauntingly beams, “drama.”
“In HD.” Abandoning my device back in my desk drawer occurs in tandem with me rising to my feet. “Tell me they’re at least the last ones here outside of you and Addy.”
“Mmmhmm.”
“Thank our lucky dental dams for that,” I playfully jeer prior to exiting my office.
Getting to the room down the hall where Jukes and his little brother are competing for an Emmy doesn’t take long nor does getting dragged into their surprise storyline of the week.
“I wanna be enunciated!” the teen loudly proclaims while aggressively pointing at the banana yellow shorts wearing male on the opposite side of the room.
There’s no stopping my face from crinkling in confusion. “What?”
“I wanna break free from my bro and out of his shadow and be the one to legally decide all my own shit!”
“Emancipated,” I gingerly corrected.
“That’s what I said!” Bronny swiftly insists.
“Not quite,” leaves me barely above a whisper.
“I’m old enough to think for myself and make my own choices!”
“You’re barely old enough to spell choices let alone make them responsibly,” argues Thayne without missing a beat.
“At least I know how to use the fire extinguisher!”
“I wasn’t the one who started a fire in the kitchen to begin with!”
“The kitchen was on fire?!” escapes much louder and more forceful than my last interjection.
Bronny makes a small gap with his finger. “Lil’ fire.”
“Big enough for the alarm company to call the fire department while I was in a trainin’ sesh!”
“That’s…” his bleached blond head bobbles around in unhappiness, “their…fault…”
“Okay, ‘Disco Inferno’,” my hand gestures to the area I need him to stretch out, “assume the position, please.”
Bronny crosses the short distance to his chair allowing me to slide over to the sink, wash my hands, and receive a sweet but very chaste kiss from the man I’ve spent almost every night with since we slept together a couple of weeks ago.
And the one night we didn’t?
I left sometime after midnight only to have him crawling into my bed for a couple hours later instead.
He hated not having me in his arms.
I hated not being there.
I know it’s something we’ll have to adjust to when the season officially starts, however, until then?
I’m all for endless slumber parties.
Post putting on a mask and plopping onto the rolling stool beside him, I professionally inquire, “Do you have a latex allergy or sensitivity?”
“Uh…” Bronny pulls his lips to one side in contemplation, “I don’t think so?”
“You wanna be emancipated, Mimi, yet you don’t even know your own allergies?”
“That album is one of the few I have listened to outside of my preferred decades,” informs the music man himself.
“I know I’m allergic to being told what to do all the time,” he complains in tandem with slamming his head backwards.
“Meaning?”
“Meanin’ I hate that no one talks to me about what I want. Hashtag FFS.”
“Believe it or not,” my gloves get slid into place, “I actually get that.”
“You ain’t gotta use hashtags in rego convo,” scolds the other male in the room upon his inching closer.
“And what is Jukes not talking to you about?”
“About where I wanna go to school.”
Grabbing my mini mirror is accompanied by me asking, “You don’t wanna switch schools?”
“I don’t know that I wanna switch states!”
“States?”
“Yeah. They-”
“Thayne and Grams?”
He enthusiastically nods and resumes explaining, “Think it’d be better for me to jus’ officially move here and go to school instead of goin’ back home where they think I’d get into trouble again.”
“You would get into trouble again,” Thayne immediately declares.
“You don’t know that!”
“Of course I know that! You’re barely stayin’ out of trouble now!”
“Tryin’ to make myself lunch isn’t gettin’ into trouble!”
“Damn near burnin’ down my kitchen ‘cause you’re busy tryin’ to take a dick pic’ is!”
“It wasn’t that bad!”
“Tell that to the insurance company!”
“Enough!” I huff prior to angling my frame to completely face Bronny.
“Open.” His jaw instantly drops granting me access.
“Wider.” Having him unable to talk creates the perfect opportunity for me to get more information about the situation uninterrupted.
“Thayne, where exactly do you and Grams think Bronny is gonna live if he moves here?”
“What kinda question is that?” He scoffs as I move the object around in his brother’s mouth to begin my visual examination. “The same place he lives now.”
“Except,” I less than politely snip, “when the season begins – which we aren’t that far from – your ass is constantly traveling, so who’s responsible for him then?”
“You.”
It’s impossible to stop my head from swiveling around in disbelief. “Excuse me?”
“You’re already helpin’ me raise him now, I jus’ assumed you’d keep helpin’.” An innocent shrug is coyishly offered. “That wrong?”
“Kinda yeah!”