by Hannah Gray
“No,” he grunts. “I told you, Ally’s here.” His shoulders are stiff. And his neck veins are bulging.
When it comes to Ally, he’s a fucking nutcase.
“And Sloane.” Knox says it like it’s a complaint. Like the blonde beauty he went on a date with is a problem or something.
I see right through it. He fucking loves her.
The most beautiful voice flows through the air, and when I look at Cole, I see his attention has turned fully to the stage.
There Ally stands, singing “Landslide” with everything in her body. He told us she could sing, but I never would have imagined she could sing like that.
Guys ogle her. How could they not? She’s gorgeous. But she’s not my type. She’s edgy and mouthy. She takes no shit and is vocal. I like that and all and respect the shit out of it. But Henley? She simply doesn’t give people the time of day. She won’t vocalize her hatred for someone. She just pretends they don’t exist. She has bigger fish to fry. And I love that about her.
I would have liked to see her tonight, but the guys were already suspicious about where I’d been. I told them I might have been with a woman friend, but that was all I said. I’m not ready to share Henley with anyone else. She’s for me and me alone right now. One day, I will tell them everything. And one day, we can hopefully double date and do coupley shit with Cole and Ally. One day. When Henley is ready.
Once Ally finishes singing, Cole goes right to her. Driving himself so far up her ass that I’m not sure how she’ll walk.
Knox sits next to me at the bar, and we flag the bartender down to order some drinks. I don’t miss his eyes shift to the stage as the blonde girl he took on a date starts singing.
She’s beautiful. And well put together. Her hair is perfectly straightened. Her clothes look well thought out. She’s flawless. I hide a laugh wanting to come out, thinking about this girl compared to Henley.
Henley’s dark blonde hair is lucky if she brushes it, let alone straightens it. When she surprised me with those football tickets, she had makeup on and her hair straightened. She looked hot—no doubt about that. But I like her natural. She wears ripped jeans and plain T-shirts. She’ll throw a hat on backward some days or wear a baggie hoodie. She’s a minimalist. And I love it.
I listen to Knox’s girl sing for a moment before turning toward him. “Dude, I don’t want this to offend you but …”
“She fucking sucks,” he says, finishing my sentence just as our beers are set in front of us. “You don’t need to say it.”
“Maybe I was going to say she was good!” I elbow him. “Maybe I was going to say she was the next Miranda Lambert. How do you know?”
He turns toward me briefly, tipping his chin up. “Were you going to say that?”
Taking a sip of my beer, I shrug. “Nope. She’s bombing. But, hey, least she’s trying. Right?” I listen to the lyrics more. “And she’s staring at your dumbass, singing ‘Sorry Not Sorry’ by Demi Lovato.” I shake my head and laugh. “She’s sending you a message, son.”
He groans but continues to watch the stage. “Whatever. Just don’t make fun of her if she comes over here. I don’t want her to get her feelings hurt.”
“Dude, I won’t say shit. I’m not like that.” I wave my hand at the bar. “But there’s a hundred other fucks in here, most drunk and all listening to her shitty singing as we speak. Someone is going to say something. We both know that.” I pat his back. “Guess you’d better distract her after, huh?”
He grumbles something and finishes his beer. I can’t put my finger on what it is about this chick, but he’s totally into her. It takes a man hiding shit to know one.
We hang out for a while, but eventually, both Storm and Knox are nowhere to be seen. I came because they asked me, and then they fucking ditched me.
Pricks.
I slide some cash to the bartender to cover the one beer I had and check my phone.
Cole: Something came up with Ally. Had to leave. Sorry, bud. I know I was your ride.
Another comes through from Knox.
Knox: I went home. Sorry, man. See you in the morning.
Great. So, I can either get an Uber or walk. It isn’t all that far. But it is nighttime. And even though I’m a grown-ass man, I still get the creeps.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Weston Wade himself,” an arrogant voice says from behind me.
Turning, I see Link Sterns and Brody O’Brien. Two of the hockey players from the fundraiser and also Cam’s best friends. They watched the interaction outside of the weight room between us, so I’m sure they aren’t my biggest fans.
“Sterns, O’Brien,” I say smoothly, nodding to both of them. “How can I help you fellas?”
Both are built dudes. I mean, they’re on the hockey team, for fuck’s sake. Still, I’m not worried about it. Even if there are two of them and one of me.
“Running your mouth to Cam like that? It wasn’t wise.” A cocky look rests on O’Brien’s face. It’s pretty easy to see this dude is just itching for a fight. “I’m getting real sick of football players thinking they deserve more respect around here.”
“Whoa, are you ’bout to cry? Does this go way back to high school when you stayed awake at night, thinking about why we got more ass than you and your fucking sticks?” I nod to both of them. “Sorry, fellas, guess you picked the wrong sport.”
His face grows angry.
I think I struck a nerve.
I don’t think we’re better than the hockey team. Hell, even I love watching hockey. But these boys are looking for trouble, so I might as well get in a few digs to wind them up.
He looks to Sterns, who looks annoyed as he drags a hand over his face.
O’Brien looks back to me before smirking again. “If we don’t get much ass, then why is Hardy with your swimmer chick tonight?”
My fists clench at his words. Henley said she was with the girls from her sorority. I know she wouldn’t lie. Still, this pisses me off.
“Funny, I just talked to her, douche bag,” I lie. I haven’t talked to her in a few hours. “And I’m headed over there now.”
I wait for a flinch or some tell that he’s lying. Nothing.
“Well then, hopefully, Hardy gets his pants zipped back up before you get there.” He laughs. “He works fast, if you know what I mean.”
I know it’s not true. She wouldn’t do that. Would she? But still, his words cause the veins in my neck to bulge, and anger comes over me like a blanket.
Shoving him backward slightly, I get in his face. “Back. Up. Or you will get fucked up. I promise.”
“What’s wrong, Wade? You seem to be getting a little … jealous. Is she your girl or something?”
“Dude, let it go,” Sterns warns his friend. “It’s not worth it.”
Ignoring him, I glare at O’Brien. “You already know the answer to that,” I say through gritted teeth before shoving him again. “Do you like to skate around like a fairy? Say it again, and I’ll make it so you can’t.”
“This is fucking dumb,” Sterns says next to him. “We don’t need this shit. Let’s fucking go. I’m not about to get kicked off the team for fighting.”
O’Brien’s eyes stay on mine for a moment, and I can tell he wants to keep going. But lucky for both of us, he shoves past me and leaves.
“Sorry, man. He’s just … fired up tonight. He’s got his own shit going on,” Sterns says before turning away and following his friend out.
As they push through the crowd and out the front door, I realize I don’t fully trust that Henley isn’t with that toolbag. But I’m about to find out.
My heart races, and my fists stay balled up. I hope she didn’t hook up with me this past week just to make a mockery of me.
Henley
“Awfully late to be out here alone,” a voice says from the dark parking lot. Basically making me jump out of my freaking skin.
Cam Hardy struts out of the darkness, walking like he’s the goddamn man.
“Well, I guess I didn’t take into account that there’re creepers around.” My hand lingers on the aquatics center door. Unsure of what Cam is up to. “Twice in one day, you’ve shown up here, sniffing around. Looking a little bit like a stalker, Hardy,” I joke.
He stops a few feet from me. He’s wearing a Brooks U hockey shirt and jeans. A ball cap is pulled over his hair, which curls over the tops of his ears. He’s cute. But he does nothing for me.
He looks down and then back up. Smiling. A dimple pops out on his left cheek, and his eyes look playful. There’s a certain sweetness to Cam Hardy. But it’s not a sweetness I want to know.
“I know. I know.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, shifting back and forth on his feet. “But look … I just want to know something. Are you available? Or are you not?” He steps a little closer, dipping his chin up slightly. He’s got the whole swagger thing down—I’ll give him that. “Wade is awfully temperamental when it comes to you. And I’ll tell you, Henley, I’m not a man who likes to be told what to do.”
My heart flutters in my chest. I didn’t know that Weston went to Cam, so that’s news to me. I should be mad, I suppose. It should infuriate me that he’s going around, acting like a jealous boyfriend. But honestly, I find it flattering. I’d likely feel the same way.
“All I can tell you is that it’s really, really complicated.” I turn and stand against the door. “Emphasize the really.”
“So … you’re saying there’s a chance?” He tries to keep a straight face, but a laugh slips out.
“No … I’m sorry, Cam. But I don’t think there is.” I turn back toward the door but look over my shoulder. “Layla, she’s the one you should be chasing. Not me.” I pull the door open, slightly surprised to find it unlocked. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get inside tonight or not. “Have a good night, Hardy.”
“Yeah, you too, Hayes,” he says softly. “And good luck at the meet.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that,” I say and walk inside.
I don’t know why I wanted to come here. I guess I just wanted to be close to the pool with my thoughts. I wanted to refamiliarize myself with the deck. Wanted to look at every inch of this place. Not so much to give me an edge on Friday but more just to be confident, going in.
I lean down, dipping my hand into the water before letting it rush out between my fingers. The sound is soothing and comforting at the same time.
I imagine hearing the voice telling me to take my mark before that obnoxious yet familiar sound goes off, alerting me to dive in. All the sounds that I’ve grown to know like a second language.
“Saw Cam getting into his truck,” Weston says, pulling me from my thoughts.
“When did you get here?” I stand up and drink him in.
“Just now.” He sounds different. He looks … angry. “Were you with him, Henley?”
“With who?” I say, confused. “Cam?”
“No, Jesus fucking Christ himself,” he deadpans. “Yes, Cam.”
My head rears back. I can’t believe the tone I’m hearing spew from his lips right now.
“Slow your roll, dickwad. He showed up here as I was about to walk in. He asked if I was available. I told him I wasn’t,” I bite back, appalled by whatever the hell he’s implying. “I suggest you take it down about ten notches on the dick-o-meter.”
His face relaxes slightly, but his body stays rigid. “Forgive me if I don’t trust the guy, Henley. Besides, it wasn’t long ago you told me maybe you’d let him … take you into a room.” He grimaces at his own words, clearly disturbed by the thought.
“You and I were enemies then!” His words settle within me, and I put a hand on my hip. “Don’t you trust me, Weston?”
He stares at me, not saying a word.
“You don’t. You don’t trust me at all. Do you?” I huff out the words and run my hand through my hair. “Wow. That’s … amazing.”
“You fucking ghosted me for over a year! How am I supposed to trust anything?” He throws his hand up at me. “You act like you’re a fucking angel and that it should be so easy.”
His anger seems so out of the blue. But then again, I did avoid him for a long time. Of course he’s going to have some rage and hurt inside when it comes to me and what I did.
He doesn’t even know the worst of it.
“So, you’re telling me, you saw Cam Hardy in the parking lot … at a college he attends, and you thought I was sneaking around, hanging out with him?” It’s clear he doesn’t trust me at all. “Why would that even cross your mind? I freaking told you I loved you a few nights ago! I let you bang me in a dang elevator, for Pete’s sake!”
His head hangs, and he pulls a hand from his pocket and runs it through his hair. “It just all seems … it seems too fucking good to be true. That’s all. I don’t know if you’re going to be here today and gone tomorrow. I don’t know what to think.”
“I understand,” I breathe out.
“If you know you’re going to leave eventually, I’m begging you, just leave me now. Put me out of my fucking misery.” He looks so defeated. “Don’t wait until I can’t function without you to decide you want out. I won’t … I won’t fucking survive it, Henley.”
I walk toward him, setting aside my pride and my own hurt. I cup his face. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave. I want you. I love you.”
I need to tell him everything. I need to tell him the truth. But I can’t. He’s too broken. I can’t drop this bomb on him yet.
“If you promise that no matter what, you won’t leave, that you’ll love me, even when you find things about me that are unlovable”—like how I slept with your brother—“I will never leave. But you have to promise me the same. Because, Weston, there will be times when you’re going to want to. And I need you to remember this … right now.”
He looks down at me before circling his arms around my waist. “I could never fucking leave you. Ever.”
“Promise?” I fight back tears.
“I promise. Swear on my life.” He says it so surely. As if he doesn’t even have to think about it.
I want to trust him. It’s not fair to set him up to make a promise without him knowing all the facts. But I’m desperate. As much as he doesn’t think he’d survive, losing me, I don’t think I’d survive it either.
I stand on my tippy-toes, pressing my lips to his. He doesn’t react; he just stands there. I’ve been around this place enough to know there are no cameras—thank the Lord for that.
“I love you.” I walk backward, pulling him toward me.
Reluctantly, he follows.
I push the locker room door open with my back and drag him into the first changing room. I shove him down on the bench.
“I love you,” I tell him again, yanking the curtain across.
I tug my shirt over my head and peel my bra off. Leaning down, I peel his shirt over his head. He doesn’t help at all, but his chest rises and falls as he breathes deeper.
I kiss his shoulder. “I love you,” I say again before pulling down my athletic shorts and panties off.
I unbutton his jeans and yank them off, using basically all my dang strength. His dick is already hard and springs free, making my mouth water.
I put a hand on each of his knees, lowering myself between his legs. I take him into my mouth and gaze up at him. His eyes are dark, and his expression is unreadable. I hum softly against him, making him hiss and grip my hair.
I bob my head forward and back on him, taking him further and deeper until he hits the back of my throat.
He tries to mute his growls, but I hear them, and they make me need him so much more.
He pulls my head back, his hardness sliding out of my mouth.
“I love you,” I say and climb onto his lap, sinking down onto him.
He fills me, and at this angle, it’s on the edge of being painful.
His hands tangle in my hair, forcing my chin upward. “Say you’re mine, Henley.”
�
�I’m yours.” No questions asked, no more trying to fight it. “All yours.”
I move up and down on him. His hand grips my hair tighter, and the other goes to my neck.
“I went fucking crazy, thinking you were with another man.” His hand clasps my neck softly. “Do you have any idea how fucking infuriating it is to be this mad over someone? I’d fucking kill for you, Henley.”
He releases my hair, and I put my forehead on his and look into his angry, dark eyes as I ride him harder. The only sound filling the locker room is our breathing.
“I’m yours. You own me.”
“Fucking right, I do.” His hands move to my ass, and he slams me down on him with vengeance. “This body, this ass, these lips. All. Fucking. Mine,” he growls before licking between my breasts. “Every fucking inch of you is mine for the taking.”
“Yes,” I pant, so close to coming undone.
“Come for me, sexy girl. Show me how fucking bad you want to,” his gritty voice demands. “Ride me until that pussy clenches around my dick. I want to feel you drip.”
I barely last long enough to do as I was told. The sheer sexiness of his raw and dirty words sends me over the edge, making me cry out his name.
He cups my cheeks as he pours himself inside of me. “I love you. So fucking much.”
“So fucking much,” I cry back, completely breathless.
Please, forgive me. I can’t live without you.
This is corny. And pathetic. But it’s the truth. I’ve waited close to nineteen years to love this man the way that I am right now. And I’ve waited what seems like an eternity to feel what it’s like to be loved back by him. I don’t want this to end. Even the thought of it is crippling.
“Let’s get out of here, sweet cheeks.” His forehead pushes against mine. “Don’t really want that coach of yours coming in here and seeing my nutsack.”
“At least it’s a good nutsack, right?” I shrug. “Could be a gross old-man-looking one.”
“True … but it’d still be awkward. And I’m pretty sure you’d get kicked off the swim team for banging your boyfriend in the locker room.”
