Chapter 50 - Josie
Josie
Sharon and Kyle hosted a watch party at their place with about fifteen guests.
Many of them were Kyle’s friends, who Sharon had promised wouldn’t bother me about my relationship with Grayson.
But they kept staring at me while we waited for the game to start, so eventually I paused the music and stood up on a chair.
“Let’s get this out of the way right now. Yes, I’m Josie Harper. I won a date with Grayson Steele. The two of us are kind of an item now. Yes, we’ve had sex. No, I won’t tell you about it. Double no: I won’t tell you how big his dick is.”
One of Kyle’s friends looked disappointed at that part.
“And finally, no, I won’t let you meet him,” I announced. “Now everyone please stop staring at me—the game is about to start!”
“That was handled well,” Sharon said.
“I was prepared for an annoying amount of attention.”
Kyle came up to me right before the puck dropped. “What you said only applies to all of them, right? You’ll tell me about Grayson. Since I’m your best friend’s boyfriend.”
“No, I won’t tell you how big it is.”
He groaned. “Aw, come on!”
Sharon grinned. “I know how big he is.”
“Why haven’t you told me, then?”
“Because I’m a good friend,” Sharon replied, “who knows how to keep a secret!”
I gave her a secret fist-bump after Kyle walked away pouting.
“The game’s starting!” someone yelled. “Here we go!”
The very first play of the game was an exciting one, Grayson and Mason slipping past the defenders and driving to the goal.
It looked like Grayson was about to pass the puck to the rookie, but then at the last minute he fired the puck into the five-hole between the goaltender’s legs, putting the Surge on the board early.
Our watch party erupted with cheers and hugs.
The rest of the game was as intense as anything I had ever watched. Both teams were aggressive, with plenty of shots on goal. The puck glanced off the goalpost so many times it sounded like there was a bell tolling in the arena.
But somehow, even after the Oilers pulled their goalie in the third period, the Surge held on to win 1-0.
Only when the clock hit zero did I realize I’d been tensing every muscle in my body for the whole game. Everyone around me cheered and celebrated, but I just closed my eyes and felt relieved.
I wasn’t a distraction after all.
No matter what happened, the blame wouldn’t get pinned on me.
The party continued after the game was over, but I stopped drinking and switched to water. Because a few hours later, after everyone else had gone to bed, I had somewhere to be.
This time when I showed up at the airport, my name was on the security guard’s checklist. I parked, waited a few minutes for the plane to land, and then left my car and took my spot behind the clique of player wives.
But after noticing me, one of them stepped back and gave me room to join them. “You’re Josie, right? I just love your makeup channel!”
“My daughter watches it every day,” another woman said. “She’s only seven, and I don’t even allow her to wear makeup. But she pretends like she has a brush in her hand and copies all your movements in front of the mirror.”
“Aw, that’s sweet to hear,” I said.
“Hi, I’m Miko’s wife, Sara,” another woman said, giving me a little half-hug. “I want to start my own channel. I’m not sure what I want it to be about, but I just know I can raise a following. Can we get drinks sometime so I can pick your brain about it?”
“Sara, you know I was going to ask her that!” another woman hissed.
“You can still ask her,” Sara shot back, which drew an annoyed snort. “Don’t blame me for just standing there like a log.”
“I’d be happy to help both of you,” I said judiciously. “Oh look, here comes the team plane!”
The mood was celebratory as the players came down the stairs. Even Bob Trent was all smiles as he disembarked and walked past us.
“I’m still not happy with you,” he told me in passing. “But keep an eye on your mailbox. We’re brainstorming the ways we want to cross-promote your channel, as we discussed.”
“Looking forward to it,” I said, but for once I wasn’t focused on my channel.
All I cared about was the man currently descending the plane.
Grayson looked exactly as he had on our first date, wearing the same charcoal gray suit and matching vest. And just like on that first date, a spark of lust flashed in his eyes when they found me in the crowd.
Except this time, he didn’t have to pretend otherwise.
He lifted me into the air, swirling me around once before lowering me to my feet and crushing his lips against mine. For a few seconds, time and space lost all meaning. It was like I was in a weightless void, where the only other thing in existence was the chiseled man in my arms.
“Is celebratory sex better than make-up sex?” I asked.
His smile held an entire night’s worth of sweaty promises. “Only one way to find out.”
He put his arm around me as we walked back to the car.
“I’m still mad at you,” I said.
“For what?”
“For liking crunchy peanut butter more than creamy.”
“It’s okay that you’re wrong about this,” Grayson said simply. “Everyone is allowed one incorrect opinion in life.”
“I found a poll that says creamy is twice as popular as crunchy.”
“And where did you find this poll?”
“On the internet.”
He snorted. “You believe everything you read on the internet? I didn’t think you were that na?ve.”
I stuck out my tongue at him.
“I enjoyed the Reese’s Cup, though,” Grayson added. “I ate one right before the game. I think it gave me the burst of energy that led to our goal.”
“So what you’re saying,” I said slowly, “is that I get to take full credit for this win.”
He frowned down at me. “Let’s not get carried away.”
“I’ll give you another pack before the next series,” I promised. “And if you score again in the first period, I get to take credit. Deal?”
“Deal,” he said.
We walked arm-in-arm for a few steps.
“Is it too early to ask how you feel about the next series?” I asked.
Grayson shook his head. “I actually like my chances. We match up well against the Dallas Stars.”
“So you have a shot?” I asked.
“A shot?” Grayson grinned at me. “Pussycat, we’re going to win.”