by Jolene Perry
And if I’d just kept quiet, I wouldn’t have been able to be rejected another time. “I’m okay with it. I mean. I think it can work.” And I even leaned forward. Toward him, but not nearly as far as he leaned away.
It’s like he didn’t know where to look. Where to put his hands. Where to put his body. He wanted out, and I didn’t know how to make him want me as someone more than his friend.
“Sorry,” he said with a low voice full of pity.
I rubbed my face to hide my tears, which were an awful mix of sadness and humiliation. “We’re cool, Mitch.” And my voice sounded okay, even though I was breaking.
“You here, Jones?” Matt slaps my helmet as he races past snapping me back to the present.
I have to get my head in the game or I’m going to get hurt.
Rebecca puts her lips on the glass, and then her chest. Mitch races to the edge, and I swear part of her doesn’t think we all see her doing this.
Practice is no place for this kind of ridiculous flirting. Mitch rests his helmet against the glass so they can do some sort of stupid kissy face thing that’s completely beneath him.
“Totally whipped, hey?” I elbow Chomps and tilt my chin toward Mitch, hoping he’ll break up their ridiculous show.
Chomps cackles before speeding across the rink and doing a half-bump, half-slam into Mitch’s backside.
“Sorry, man!” Chomps yells as he speeds away, Mitch right on his tail.
“Chomps!” Coach shouts.
“S’up Coach?” He slides to a stop next to him in the center.
“Don’t ‘s’up’ me. We’re five days away from semis and you just slammed one of your own. Not okay.” Every word has that hard edge of anger he gets when he’s seriously pissed. Not good. His dark hair is closer than military cut, and his jaw is clenched and brow’s pulled together.
Now I feel bad I started this, but there’s not much I can do about it now.
“Okay!” He blows his whistle for us to gather and starts shouting orders.
Mitch bumps my arm. “What’s with the sour face, Pen?”
“Does she need to watch over you wherever you go?” I whisper back. But I’m standing too close and looking at him in a way I shouldn’t. Mitch and I are close, though, so it’s always muddying the lines for me. He meant it the other night when he said he’d have come to my house. And he’d have left Rebecca behind to help. Or at least there used to be a point where he’d have left her behind. I’m not sure anymore, and I hate how that weighs me down.
“I like her here, and she doesn’t mind sitting in a rink for hours to be with me. So yeah, it’s cool. Becca’s cool.” His eyes are on me, but I look away. Talking about deep stuff before practice won’t help my concentration any. I keep my eyes on Coach. I know the question will be all over Mitch’s face—are you sure we’re okay? That kiss was a year ago. Or even worse, he’ll look sympathetic. The problem is Mitch knows me well enough that I’m easy for him to read. At least the rest of the team hasn’t caught on…or I don’t think they have.
It sucks when he says he likes her. Part of me wants him to be using her. Okay. All of me wants him to be using her. Maybe it’ll be better when he goes to college next year. I stick the guard in my mouth and try to focus on Coach. After sitting in Dad’s car, still barely seeing Mom, and watching Rebecca’s boobs smashed against the glass, I need to skate.
…
It’s lightly snowing, which is my favorite time to sit in the hot tub. The flakes melt before touching my skin, but the cool drops of water still feel good. The ten-person hot tub was a present from Gramps when I hurt my back a few years ago, and we can fit a mess of people in it. Too bad Rebecca doesn’t see that there are like six other places not on Mitch’s lap that she could be.
Chomps’s girlfriend, Trinna, has no problem sitting next to him and not being so…overt.
Also, I’m fine in a sports bra and black boy shorts from my bikini. Rebecca’s suit would fall off with a tug of one tiny little string. Mitch’s hand traces her collarbone as their faces rest together, and they kiss again—the kind that spreads black heaviness in the pit of my stomach because he’s never looked at one of his girlfriends the way he looks at her. The hot tub was not a good idea.
“Pizza’s here!” Matt yells. “Damn am I glad Ditch thinks you’re hot.” He kicks me under the water.
I shrug. I know I’m the only one out this far that he’ll deliver to, but I’ve never given much thought as to why. He just always has.
A sliver of light from the closest cabin catches my eye, and Gary walks toward Bishop’s door. When Bishop appears in the doorway, his eyes narrow as he sees Ditch climb out with three large pizzas. Right. He would be pissed since I told him no one delivered out here. I don’t feel bad, more like itchy, uncomfortable.
Just as Ditch gets out of the delivery-mobile, Matt leans over. “Who’s the pretty boy?”
I follow his gaze to Bishop’s scowl and the back of Gary’s head as they talk. “Why? You want me to get his number for you?”
He grabs my head before I can get away and dunks me.
The chlorine water burns my eyes. “Watch it asshole!” I sputter as I break the surface. “Payback’s a bitch!”
I try to shove him under, but I should know better. He laughs as I try to knock him down. Matt is quick and strong. It’s why he’s such a good goalie. I lean all of my weight against the side of his head, but still can’t get him to budge.
“He’s enjoying that way too much.” Mitch shakes his head and sends a splash of hot water flying toward me. And this is the jealousy from him that lets me know he still watches. That Rebecca hasn’t taken him from me yet. At least not completely.
I glance down at my bare stomach that was just pressed into Matt’s head as I slide back into the water. Both Matt and Chomps shrug like of course it was enjoyed. Boys.
There’s a flicker of light from Bishop’s porch, a lighter I guess, and my eyes rest there a little too long.
“Be nice, Pen. Invite the guy over,” Chomps says. Trinna glances over her shoulder but keeps silent, like she usually does.
Inviting Bishop over is really the least I can do. I’m supposed to be helping them like a hostess as Mom would say. I stand in the tub and wave.
“Bishop! We got pizza! Come over!”
When I stop waving, Ditch is staring at me, jaw slack with our three pizzas. He was kind of a geek when he graduated, and not much has changed in the three years since. Maybe Matt’s right and he has a crush on me or something. “You joining us?” I ask, trying to play nice. He did drive, like, an extra five miles for me.
“Uh…” His eyes hit my stomach, then my face, then my stomach, then my chest as steam from my body fills the air. “I’m on shift. Just wanted to drop your food off.”
“Thanks.” I grin. And then notice Bishop walking over, pulling a hat on. He looks pissed, which kind of makes him look hotter and me lose every coherent thought in my brain. It’s one thing to wrestle with Matt, but it’s completely another to try and be cool around a guy who sets my nerve endings on edge in a way I’m not at all used to. As Bishop gets closer, my mouth starts to dry out. This doesn’t happen to me. Ever. I have to try to come up with the same courage I have on the ice. In about two seconds.
Chapter Five
BISHOP
As I trudge through the snow with the stupid boots Gary bought me, and my stupid incognito hat, I still can’t believe I’m going over there. First, this chick is crazy. I shudder when I think about how she violated my nose. And she lied to me about the delivery. Peanut butter and grilled cheese is getting old. I definitely would have liked some pizza the past few days, and here she is enjoying the takeout she told me doesn’t exist.
No takeout. No laptop. No tablet. All I have is my cell phone, and since I’m ignoring Blake’s calls, that doesn’t count for much. He can’t even get pissed at me about it, either. The guys in the band shouldn’t be calling—Don’s orders.
All this secl
usion is killing me, though. I miss the buzz of the city. Miss never knowing who would stop by. Most of the people who know where I live are all cool and down for a good time. It was fun getting surprised by who or I saw or what I’d be doing each day.
I miss practicing with the band, and that pisses me off because they sold me out.
I stop long enough to put my cigarette out in the snow. I hate these things. I don’t even know why I smoke them, but when you’re with people who smoke 24/7 it’s easy to pick up the habit. I’ve sorted out the pills I brought so I can have one or two every couple days. See, an addict couldn’t do that. Plus, just because I have them, doesn’t mean I’ll take them. Gary’s like a bulldog with my anxiety meds, so the smokes help take the edge off.
“Thought no one delivered?” The words rush out of my mouth as I walk up the stairs. There’s the Snow Queen, two other girls, and a whole bunch of guys in the hot tub. I don’t like the ratio. Not that I’m interested in anyone here, but still.
“Ditch only delivers for her,” some dark-haired guy with a girl on his lap says.
“Ditch?” That’s a fucked up name. Not that Bishop Ripe is much better. What I wouldn’t give to go back in time and change that one, but now I’m stuck with it as my code name, as Gary has started calling it.
A guy raises his hand all eager-like. “I’m Ditch.”
The dark-haired guy speaks again. “If you see him when we motocross, you’ll know where the name comes from.” They all laugh together. It’s kind of freaky. I’m sure they’re those kids who have grown up together, met when they played in the sandbox and haven’t left each other’s sides since. We moved around too much for that, not that Mom wanted to, but want and need aren’t always the same thing. The only people I know even half that well are the guys in my band. And look what they did to me.
Blake tries to call every day…
I tell the voice in the back of my head to shut up. Since I’m the youngest in the band, Blake tried to take me under his wing in the beginning. Soon, he realized I didn’t need it.
I cross my arms. Uncross them, trying to get comfortable. I haven’t felt comfortable since I got here. Even since before that.
“So, I guess I owe you a slice. Go for it, if you want one.” Penny nods her head toward the boxes.
Damn, I want one, but don’t let myself move.
“Or beer.”
My senses perk up. I’d love a beer. Would be a nice way to relax after all I’ve been through.
“She has a one-beer rule, and don’t even think about trying anything else,” her friend says. He looks a little shorter than I am. His shoulders are wide, and he seems like the kind of guy who has his hockey number tatted on him. He doesn’t take his hands off his girl the whole time.
Damn, I miss girls.
The Snow Queen stiffens a little, the smirk I’m used to seeing on her face wiped away.
“Well…the rule is for good reason.” The guy back-pedals and I can’t help but wonder what that’s all about.
“So, beer?” Penny stands up, steam rolling off her skin in waves, and water dripping down her body. Her very nice body. She looks soft like a girl should look, but toned, too. I have no idea how she can wear a two-piece in this weather, but I’m grateful for it. Did I mention I miss girls?
“Hello? You in there, Ripe?”
Ripe? Oh yeah. My stupid code name. Gary’s so proud.
She grabs a towel and wraps it around herself. “It’s cold. You’ve got about five seconds to decide before I get back in the hot tub.”
My heart rate kicks up. I’m not sure if it’s because of the bikini, the way the water makes her hair look even whiter, the cold, or the mention of alcohol. I haven’t had a drop since “the incident”. Besides the few pills, I’ve been a good little boy like they want. It’s not like I’m going to get smashed or anything. She has a one-beer rule.
I try to see around her to catch a glimpse of my parole officer, also known as Gary.
“Five, four, three,” Penny starts a countdown. The urge to snap at her hits me, but instead, I shove my hands deep in my pockets.
“Yeah…yeah, I’ll have a beer.” Then I’m kind of pissed because I’m sitting here feeling guilty over having a beer. It’s one beer. If it’s okay for these golden kids to have one, I can, too.
While she’s gone, I find out the guy who can’t keep his hands or mouth off his girl is really Mitch, and his attachment is Becca. The other guy, some huge blond who looks like the human version of a Mack truck with them is Chomps. Alaskans seriously have weird names. Chomps’s girl is Trinna, and I can’t remember the other guys’ names.
The pizza guy leaves, and Penny hands me a cold beer without a word, then drops her towel, standing there just long enough that I know she wants to be watched, before sliding back into the hot tub with her friends. I open the top and down the whole thing, savoring the bitterness. I’ve missed this. The little twangy taste. Why does she have the one-beer rule again? I eye the door, wishing I could go inside and grab another one.
“Wow, holy beer-drinker.”
Her surprise makes me feel a little strange. Like I have to defend myself.
“I was thirsty.” I plop down in a chair. They have a firepit piled high with logs, burning in the middle of the deck, which helps to keep me semi-warm. When I pull, the tab comes off the can easily and roll it around between my fingers, knowing I should get up and go back to my cabin. I’m not sure why I don’t.
The one guy, Chomps, asks me if I want in, which I refuse.
“You still hurting from the game?” Chomps asks Penny.
Game?
“Yeah, a little. No biggie though.”
“What game?” I find myself asking.
“Hockey. She’s our Lucky Penny!” Mitch grins.
Wait. “You play hockey? With guys?”
Everyone laughs, and I feel left out on some joke. Damn Alaskan sandbox kids.
“He thinks I ‘help with the team.’” She does the air quote thing.
“And you let him live?” Chomps shoves her. These people are so screwed up.
“I shoved a tampon up his nose.”
They all start laughing again, and I’m starting to get pissed. “You done showing off, Snow Queen?”
All eyes are on me like I screwed up big—like they can’t believe I talked to her that way. News flash, I’m not going to fall at her feet like everyone else does. I’m Bishop Riley. I play the drums for a Grammy-winning band. I’m not kissing her ass.
Penny’s jaw clenches and she shakes her head. She opens her mouth, probably to bitch me out, but gets cut off.
“So, umm…what brought you here?” Mitch asks. I can tell he’s trying to defuse the situation and I let him, only it’s the first time someone has asked me and I’m not sure what to say. Actually, I’m pretty sure Gary told me the story, but I didn’t pay attention. I know I almost OD’d and my mom and manager shipped me here isn’t the right answer.
“Gary…my uncle? He has some work to do, and I came with him to get away for a while.”
“What’s he do?” Chomps asks.
Shit. What does he do? I shrug. “I don’t know. He works from home, but he wanted peace and quiet. To get away or whatever.” Which is true. I know the stuff he writes for his magazine is done over the internet.
“Hmm,” Penny says. “And you wanted to come with him? That surprises me.”
“What is this? Twenty Questions?” I try to push a hand through my hair, but then I remember I’m wearing a stupid hat. Are all Alaskans this nosey? The only thing I know about the state is it’s cold, full of trees, and Sarah Palin can see Russia from here.
“So-rry.” Penny says, her cheeks a little pink, making me feel like a jerk. There’s no doubt in my mind it takes a lot to embarrass this girl.
Chomps breaks the tension when he starts to tickle her. Penny lasts about two seconds before she gets the best of him and they’re all laughing. I sit back and watch them. From there, they
launch into talk about hockey and school. I lose track after a while, and they don’t try to include me anymore. Crazily, not answering questions becomes more annoying than answering them.
About thirty minutes later, I get up and walk away. I’m not even sure they notice I’m gone. My door is closed long enough for me to walk to the bathroom before someone knocks. I put some toothpaste in my mouth real quick before pulling it open.
“Aren’t we the little joiner?” Gary teases. “I’m glad to see you’re making friends.”
“I’m not making friends. Can I help you with something?”
Gary actually says, “tsk, tsk,” at me. “So grumpy. This Alaskan air isn’t helping your mood at all.” When I groan, he gets serious. “You feeling okay? You still haven’t gotten sick or anything, have you? How are you sleeping?”
Didn’t we already go over this? “Shit,” I turn, stalk over to the couch, and fall down on it. “No, I’m not going through withdrawals or anything. I’m not a drug addict, Gary.” Part of me wonders if I should tell him I can’t sleep, but it’ll probably make him think it’s because I don’t have pills. That’s not it. I’m sure of it.
He walks over and sits down across from me. “I know this isn’t easy, and I know you’re pissed, but you can talk to me, okay?”
I groan again, and he holds up his hands before continuing. “I’m not saying you have to. I’m telling you the option is always here, okay? You know I’ve been through this years ago with Troy, but I’m not sure if you realize this is what I used to do. I can help. I want to help. Now, I’ll ask you again. You okay? Do you need one of your anxiety meds?”
He used to do this? No, I didn’t know that, but it explains why they sent him here with me. Makes me wonder how he went from therapist to writing for a magazine, though I don’t know what kind of magazine he writes for. Maybe it does go together.
The shakes try setting in, but I don’t tell him that. The more they think I’m okay, the faster I should be able to get out of this place. That beer should have helped me relax. “No, I’m cool. I don’t need anything.”
