by Piper Rayne
She went the college route and has ping-ponged through as many jobs as tricks I’ve landed safely. In other words, a shit ton.
“The owner is super awesome. Female.”
They all say ‘oh,’ like that’s some big thing. Haven’t women been pushing that glass ceiling for a while now? I don’t see how that’s a surprise.
“It’s just starting out, so I can really prove myself. I’m so excited.”
“Did you start already?” Skylar asks.
“Tomorrow.” She crosses both her fingers in the air.
Skylar hugs her one more time. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Yeah, you’re employed.” I do a little cheer with my good arm and Chelsea narrows her eyes at me.
“How’s the arm, Beckett? Still need Skylar to nurse you back to health?” She raises her voice an octave like she’s speaking to a baby.
“Oh, great, you’re here! The students are getting restless. Come on.” A dark-haired woman peeks into the room.
“Sorry.” Skylar shoots me a tight smile and I give her a thumbs-up.
We all file out of the office, the two ladies wishing Skylar luck and gushing about Chelsea’s new job. Did I miss the part where she says she cured cancer?
Walking down Skylar’s high school hallways on the way to the gym, memories of Summer wash over me. How young I was. I wasn’t as jaded yet and still believed that what I’d experienced in my youth didn’t have any repercussions. My experience with Summer convinced me otherwise.
The dark-haired lady stops us right before we’re going to enter the gym doors. Chelsea is giving Skylar a pep talk and I lean against the wall. The woman who I think at some point on our walk over here said her name was Gwen, has her attention poised on whoever is talking in the gym.
“Winter Classics medalist, Skylar Walsh!” The man on the microphone announces and clapping rings out from the large room.
She walks across the gym floor to join the man at the microphone while Chelsea and I are guided to two open spots in the front row. Sky’s shaky hand lands on the microphone and she swallows, so loud you can catch the faint sound over the speakers.
“She’s fucking hot,” some kid a few rows back says.
“She went to school here?” another adds.
“Man, what happened? The selection has gone to shit since she was here,” the first kid chimes in.
Chelsea shakes her head and glances at me. I’m surprised she’s yet to say anything. Silence isn’t her style.
“Hey.” A tap hits my shoulder and I look behind me, finding a blond kid with blue eyes, wearing a letterman jacket. Probably the school jock. There’s some pin thing on his letter. “She available?”
Chelsea laughs. “In your wet dreams.”
The kid narrows his eyes and I can tell he’s about to unleash some of his ‘I run this school venom’ on her.
“Sorry, she’s not,” I answer nicely.
“Are you her boyfriend?” the other one asks.
“In his wet dream,” Chelsea adds, and the kid opens his mouth but shuts it quickly.
He’s probably wondering about Chelsea now. She’s not hard on the eyes either.
“Actually.” She taps her lips. “He could be if we traveled back in time to before he became a blind douchebag.”
The boys slide closer to her, effectively knocking a girl off the bench. She pushes up her glasses, sits back down and hits the guy closest to the end with her hip. Way to fight back. There’s the type of girl I should’ve dated in high school.
“First Zoe and now you?”
She lifts one shoulder. “Our family is close. We talk. Have your ears been burning?”
Skylar clears her throat over the mic. “My good friend, Beckett Myers is here, too. He’s a snowboarder.” She waves me up.
“He’s totally fucking her,” the kid with the letterman jacket says.
Chelsea turns around. “No, he isn’t.”
Skylar’s in the middle of the gym floor, waving me up because I’m fairly sure she’s uncomfortable being up there by herself. I got the two horniest boys behind me hell-bent on making this a horrible experience for me. Both options suck.
“Shut. It,” I grind out through my clenched jaw.
Chelsea laughs in my face and turns back to the boys. “They’re friends,” she says using quotations around friends.
“No such thing.” The one kid gives his opinion, which no one asked for.
“That’s what I said.” Chelsea slaps me on the back. “Your friend is requesting your assistance.”
I hunch over and stand, heading to the middle of the stage.
The man who I’m guessing is the principal stands and shakes my hand. “Wish I’d known we would have had both of you.”
“Nah, this is Sky’s thing, not mine.”
“Surely your high school would like you to talk.”
“Yeah, probably not.” I nod and turn my focus to Skylar.
I can read her like the slopes. Easy to find my line, which path will get me there the fastest. But today she’s throwing me for a loop. Skylar doesn’t get scared, she doesn’t get intimidated, not by this sort of thing.
She offers me the microphone and I figure to make the whole situation better, I’ll take it with the hopes she’ll collect herself enough to come back. Truthfully, I’ll just brag about her, since she is my favorite subject.
“Hey, everyone. I’m Beckett.” My eyes scan the crowd of kids until it lands on the tall figure in the corner by the doors. You have to be shitting me. This guy is fucking everywhere and it’s like he’s got a noose around my girl’s neck.
It’s not hard to figure out that Ben is a physical education teacher from his shorts, t-shirt and a damn whistle around his neck. His eyes are intent on Skylar, so I step to the side, blocking his view of her. He doesn’t deserve it anyway.
Chapter Nine
“What is the deal with this Ben fucker?” I glance over to Skylar in the driver’s seat of her mom’s minivan.
Please explain why people who don’t have small children have minivans? Sure, it’s stocked with two car seats, no double Molly and Caiden’s, but an SUV or a sedan would do Skylar’s parents just fine. Even if I did have kids, I sure as shit wouldn’t own a loser cruiser.
She shrugs, biting down on her bottom lip.
“Come on, Sky, you know you can tell me.”
Her hands are at ten and two, her eyes fixated on the road ahead like we’re driving through a blizzard.
“Nothing.”
I turn in my seat. “It’s not nothing. Come on. You lose all that feistiness I love so much when he’s around. So, the guy broke your heart…it was a million years ago.”
“He slept with my best friend.”
“Again, a million years ago.”
Her foot presses harder on the accelerator and I place my palm on the roof as she takes a turn so fast I’m surprised we’re not on two wheels.
“It’s stupid. I need to get out of this town. How can Chicago feel so damn small?”
The car jerks to a stop before we rear end the SUV in front of us.
“I think I should drive,” I say.
“Didn’t Chelsea know he worked there? Why didn’t she give me a heads up? No, ‘surprise.’” Both her hands raise up in the air, her fingers spreading. “Let’s fuck with Skylar some more.”
“I think you should follow that sign to the hospital. Ask for the psych ward.” I point to the blue sign on my right that we just flew past. “Or hell, let me drive one handed.” My arm straightens, my palm locking to the roof as she makes another sharp turn.
I don’t even know if we’re five minutes or twenty minutes from home. All the streets look the same in this city.
“Skylar!” I yell right before we hit a patch of snow and ice and skid along the road and hit the parked car on our right.
“Oh, my God. Oh, my God!” Panic flashes in her eyes, her hand on my thigh. “Your arm. Tell me I didn’t hurt you anymore!”
“I’m good.”
She gets out, cars around us slowing down, some stopping to see what happened. A police car siren rings out almost immediately and I guess that’s what you get when you’re in a city. If this were Park City, I’d be shooting the shit with the person I hit for hours while we waited for the cops.
A police cruiser pulls in behind Skylar’s parents’ minivan, the lights reflecting on the glass of the store windows past the sidewalk where a few bystanders linger around.
Skylar’s in and out of the van, distraught and searching for the paperwork she’s going to need.
“I can’t believe I hit a car.” She leans in and reaches toward the glovebox. I unbuckle myself, figuring as hard as it will be, I gotta get out to help.
“Hold on there, Sir.” One of the police officers stands behind Skylar, directing me with his open palm.
Skylar stops, widens her eyes at me and then swivels around slowly to face the officer, who if you ask me is way too close to her ass. She draws back.
See? I told you he was too close.
“Ma’am, you need to stay in the van,” the officer says.
Skylar waves him off. “I’m fine.”
“Ma’am, stay in the vehicle.”
“Oh please, I am not a ma’am.” She relents climbing back into the driver’s seat, her hands landing on her thighs. “I’m twenty-five.”
A slow smirk appears on the cop’s lips but he’s quick to straighten it out. “Mind telling me what happened here.” He pulls out his pad and pen from his front shirt pocket.
Knock, knock.
I jump, my eyes looking out the window beside me at the partner of the cop currently questioning Skylar. My guy doesn’t look as nice, either that or he wishes I looked more like Skylar.
Twisting my body, I reach over to open the window. This one is not so quick to tell me to stay in place.
“Your arm?”
“Already like this.” I stare down at the sling. “Obviously.”
“Obviously.” He hooks his thumbs on his belt and leans back.
Meanwhile to my left, Skylar’s flirtatious laugh mixes with the cop’s chuckle.
“How are you feeling? Well enough to sit tight for a second?” the police officer asks. “I don’t want to take any chances with that arm. The paramedics will be here soon.”
“No worries. I’m good.”
Then the man who owns the car Skylar hit comes over ranting and raving about the damage. The officer who was just at my window places his hand in the air to stop the man from going over to Skylar.
The only good thing about this situation is, by making an appearance, Skylar and Mr. Mount Me police officer have to cut short their flirting to deal with the irate man.
Mount Me directs Skylar to leave the vehicle and head toward the back of the van and I attempt to swivel in my seat to see what’s happening, but damn it, they’re right at the corner. My gaze shifts back to the No Personality cop who’s reassuring the frantic man that the situation is under control and he’s sure we have insurance. Hello, we’re in a minivan. This car screams responsibility.
Skylar comes over, opens the driver’s side door and opens the glove compartment so it hits my knees.
“Beck, I think he’s going to ask me for my phone number,” she whispers, the worry that lined all the features of her face now taken over by a full-wattage smile.
“Because you hit another car? Two words—police report.”
She giggles in a way that I’ve never heard before. I look up to find Mount Me outside the car, enjoying his view of her ass. Isn’t there some law or something against him doing that?
She slaps my knee in a friendly ‘you’re joking’ when in reality, I’m thinking I better not be joking. I’ll be half-tempted to tattle on him to his chief. That has to be against the rules—to hit on someone you’re going to ticket.
Turning back around, she hands over her license and I’m assuming what is her parents’ insurance card.
“Are you the skier Skylar Walsh?” Mount Me asks. Great, might as well pull out the cell phones right now for them to exchange numbers.
I roll my eyes. Skylar twirls a strand of her hair, tilting her head softly to the side. The embarrassed innocent schoolgirl look? I thought Sky was better than that.
“Yeah.” Her voice is soft and meek instead of the ferocious lioness she actually is.
“That’s crazy. I mean, you were all over the news. A local skier in the Classics.” He peeks his head into the car at me, drawing his eyebrows together like he’s not impressed.
Well, I’m not either buddy. Do your job so I can get the fuck out of this mommy missile and back to the couch, taking the girl you’re admiring with me.
“I’m back home for awhile.”
“How long is awhile?” His voice drops an octave.
God, am I this ridiculous when I flirt with someone? I hope not. He’s pathetic. Not to mention he has a job to do. You don’t see me stopping in the middle of my run to hit on a girl standing on the fence line.
“A few weeks.” She shrugs.
Usually this is the point where she signals to me to get her out of this and tells everyone that she’s taking care of me. Not this time. Not even a glance over her shoulder.
I slide my butt up to the edge of the seat, one good thing about a minivan is all the open space.
More lights stop behind the van. I turn my head to look. An ambulance. Fucking hell.
The side door of the minivan opens and who should appear on the other side, but none other than Officer No Personality.
“Sir, I asked you to stay put.”
“And I told you I’m fine.”
Skylar’s laugh slices my chest like a knife as it floats across the van.
The paramedics run over, one of the guys fist bumping the other. I guess all must know one another here.
“Just a fender bender, Luca. The guy says he’s good,” the cop says to the one paramedic.
“I am good. I already broke my arm.”
“Let’s just have a look. What harm can it do?” Luca kneels down to look at me. I realize that he bears an odd resemblance to Officer No Personality, but from the smile on his face, even if they are related they don’t share personalities.
“How’d you break it?” Luca, whose patch on his uniform reads Bianco, says.
“I slipped on ice trying to save that one.” I thumb in the direction of Skylar who I think might have forgotten I was even here.
“No cool story, huh?” he laughs, peeking under the sling gently. I think the two of us must be similar. If I could tell everyone I broke my arm because I fell from forty feet in the air, it’d be way cooler.
“Nothing to impress anyone,” I say.
Luca glances through the minivan to Skylar. “If you’ve got her chaperoning you I wouldn’t say that.”
Does he not see her twirling her hair for Officer Mount Me?
“She’s a friend. I helped her through a broken leg two years ago. She was guilted into helping me.”
He chuckles, standing up and jotting something down on his notepad. “What the hell do you two do that you’re breaking bones so often?”
I could lie, but what’s the point. Our pseudo-celebrity status might get Sky out of a ticket if I tell the truth. “She’s a skier and I snowboard.”
“No shit? Like X Games or you mean you just head to Wisconsin?”
I laugh. “We just got back from the Winter Classics.”
“Impressive.” He glances back to the officer and their gazes both shift to Skylar. “You’re telling me that she’s a Classics skier?” They seem to be looking at her with admiration.
“Yep.”
“Man, I feel like I gotta check you out more. I’ve never met an athlete like you before, though I was on the set of a television show last year.”
“Don’t bring
that shit up again,” Officer NP says. “It was for like a second.”
Paramedic Good Time stands up. “More than your sorry ass got, Cristian.”
So, Officer NP has a name.
“Well, at least I’m Mom’s favorite,” Cristian says.
Luca slaps him in the chest and my eyes zoom in on the matching name patch. Bianco.
Brothers.
“You’re brothers?” I ask.
Luca’s lips tip into a smirk. “What gave it away? Our matching mugs or the nameplates?”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer, instead, he looks at his brother. “I’m her baby.”
“Yeah, the oops baby,” Officer Bianco smiles and shows some teeth.
“You broke her heart when you moved out.” Luca tsks, but I can tell he’s teasing.
“She’d have us wait until we’re married and move in with our wives.”
Paramedic looks over to me. “Italian Mama.” Like that should say it all.
My only come back is “No Mama.”
“Mind if we grab a picture?” Luca says. “You know to impress the chicks that I meet at the bar tonight.”
I can’t help but laugh at this guy. How different can two brothers be?
The other paramedic takes a picture of me and the cool brother who insisted on getting my number so that he can ‘check-up’ on me. I think it’s really so he can flash it to the women he’s going to try to pick up using the picture of us.
Fifteen minutes later and we’re on our way home. Thankfully the minivan is drivable.
“Guess who got a date?” Sky holds up her cell phone and places it in the cup holder. “See yah GeekMatch, hello handcuffs.”
I shoot her a tight smile. “Mind if we head home? I need to rest my arm.”
“Sure. No problem.”
Her enthusiasm tapers down and I feel like the jackass I am.
Chapter Ten
Mount Me and Skylar go out that Friday. I refrained from leaving my room, lying and saying I wasn’t feeling good. I booted up my laptop one handed and almost bought a ticket home to Park City. It seems like it might be a better option than putting myself through this crap. Maybe some distance wouldn’t make it feel like someone is prying my fingernails off one by one.
