by Tara Brown
The tautness of my stomach suggests I’m not nearly as apathetic as I want to be.
The image of him begging in the snow still makes me weak in the knees.
He makes me weak in the knees.
He’s the only person who does, or ever has, even with the photo lingering in my mind at all times.
It’s why I’m leaving my homework and going to meet him. Not because I can afford to be a slacker with school right now. But because I can’t get him out of my head, no matter how hard I want to.
Well, him and the lead singer of the Lumineers. But I checked, Wesley Schultz is married to some event planner. He’s also poor and a hipster. And while the public shame I would encounter would be worth the look on my father’s face, my mosaic heart still beats for one person.
Charles drives up in a new limo, smiling wide when he sees me. I offer a slight wave as the older man jumps out, getting the door for me. “Miss Ford.”
“Hello, Charles.” I blush and walk to the car door. Being around him makes me incredibly uncomfortable, but I’m working on not associating him with the worst moments Matt and I have shared.
The air in my lungs gets caught mid breath as Matt steps out, meeting me with an enchanting smile, his most charming one. He looks incredible, even with his longish hair, which has completely won me over. I’ve never found guys with hair to their cheeks attractive, but it’s working with his suit and fuzzy face. End of season means the end of grooming for most hockey players, but he’s still beautiful. His scars are small and his broken bones have been put back perfectly.
“You look beautiful.” He leans in to kiss my cheek like friends do, only he lingers longer than a friend would, making me shiver from the warmth.
“Thanks.” My insides tighten from the smell of him and his cologne, as I pull back and glance up into his eyes, letting them tell me a story. Their emotion and desire says everything neither of us is going to. It’s been two weeks of tiptoeing and trying to figure out how to exist within the rules I made.
We aren’t doing well with them.
I had all kinds of plans to make him suffer, but I haven’t really gone through with them, beyond being aloof. But even that’s fake and I’m sure my eyes betray me the way his do.
Neither of us knows how to function within the guidelines of the deal. He wants too much and I need less, at least until I can trust him again. The problem is that I still want him nearby.
“Time to go.” He steps to the side, letting me get in.
“Okay.” I sit and fix my skirt, trying not to flash too much leg. It doesn’t stop his eyes from dancing across my exposed skin.
“Thanks for coming.” He speaks like he’s talking to my knees or in a trance.
“Thanks for inviting me.” I feel like we don’t even know each other anymore, instead of the opposite. It’s as if none of the laughing, playing chess, having sex, or eating at midnight happened. All our midnight confessions have been replaced with distrust.
One picture, one lie, one mosaic heart ruined it all. Negated it. The only thing saving us is that confession in the snow. He played a card I didn't expect: candor. Even if it was drunken candor.
It’s something we don't always have in our world.
Secrets, lies, and intrigues are the bread and butter of high society. I’ve heard it called a game of houses, and it couldn't be more accurate.
“I didn't think you would say yes so soon.” His tone is gentle, almost like he regrets saying it.
“I’ve been busy.” It isn’t a lie. I have been swamped with schoolwork and private tutors.
“Yeah, me too. I finally have back-to-back home games this week.” He nods awkwardly. “So it’s a good time to get together and talk. I’m not jet lagged.”
This dancing small talk is agonizing. I think he’s trying to be real and I’m trying to be fake and we’re just awful. “Where are we eating?” I might as well have asked about the game I’m going to pretend I didn't watch on TV.
“Not telling.” Some of his cockiness creeps across his lips and he’s suddenly old Matt with a naughty grin. “It’s a surprise.” He lifts a black blindfold. “One you can’t see.” The way he leans forward, taking up too much of my personal space, brings back some limo memories I have mixed feelings about. He grins, fully letting that confident leer take over his face. “Ready?” The mischief in his eyes and how his hair hangs over his face is too hot. The blindfold in his huge hands has my thighs almost as tight as my stomach.
“Yeah.” I want to argue but I don't. I surprise us both when I mutter, “Okay.” Taking deep breaths and closing my eyes, I wait for the feel of the silky material. It’s not the first time someone has covered my eyes like this, but it’s the hottest.
When the fabric brushes against my cheek, I wrestle with nerves and the question of where this is going. His warm hands rest the elastic against the back of my head and his face lingers too close. His breath tickles my lip gloss, but he doesn’t kiss me.
“You always smell so good. I miss the way you smell,” he says softly before moving away from me, sitting back where he was. He smells good too but I don’t say a thing.
It is the first time riding in a car blindfolded so I’m finding it odd to be moved and jerked and not be prepared for it. I lean into the corner, but I’m not ready for the next one and topple over. “Shit.”
“Here.” He sits next to me, holding me to him. The closeness and sensation of his arms around mine is too much. I swallow hard, leaning into him as the car takes another corner. Our faces are so close I can taste him in the air.
The car jerks slightly, coming to a stop. Matt holds still for a second longer than he needs to before he takes my hand in his, pulling me to the door. When it opens, the air attacks, proving how warm it was in the car—how warm he was.
His fingers link with mine as he helps me out, steadying me on my boots.
“Is there a curb?” I tap with my foot like a vision-impaired person might with their cane.
“No.” He wraps an arm around my waist and drags me into him and then forward. Walking is terrifying, and yet I trust him, in this anyway. Maybe I trust him more than I’m willing to admit to.
The wind whips around us and I wonder where the hell we are.
We walk, him leading us inside where the wind dies off as the door closes behind us. My boots click on the floor, it’s most likely tiles or stone. It could be a restaurant but there’s silence except for our shoes. It’s impossible to guess which restaurant would be silent, even on a Monday.
Unless he’s taking me to one of the restaurants that’s closed Mondays, and he’s gotten them to open for us.
I can’t imagine what it is, but I let him guide me to some more doors. The way we move makes me think we’ve stepped into an elevator. He draws closer as the doors close. I think it’s only us in here, which makes me think about the fantasy I have with elevators, thanks to Fifty Shades.
“Can I have a hint?” I ask, realizing how quiet I’ve been just listening to my racing heart. My skin prickles against his, forcing the hairs on my arms to stand on end.
“No.” He leans in, brushing his lips over mine and whispering against my cheek, “Be patient.” The stolen kiss melts my insides, intensifying the effect of riding the elevator up blindfolded. The doors open and we walk along a hallway. More silence.
I sense I might trip any moment, but he’s so big, I’m sure he would catch me.
Another door opens and the smell of food floods my nostrils.
Garlic, onion, wine, pasta sauce maybe? It smells like heaven.
He leads me forward. “Can I have your jacket?”
“Can I take off the mask?” I reach around me, trying to get a clue.
“No. Jacket.” He’s firm. He’s liking this, me being blind and him being in charge. Oddly enough, I’m also liking it. It’s thrilling not knowing.
I unbutton the coat and pass it to him, shivering as the air around me cools my arms. It isn’t cold but my jack
et was cozy.
I try not to sway or lose my balance and wish I’d worn my Tieks.
“Here.” He offers his arm again with a nudge. I take it and let him guide me.
The floor we cross creates more of a thud when I step, like wood, but I still have no clue where we could be.
He stops and the sound of a heavy wooden piece of furniture sliding makes me jump. When it ends, his breath is all I can hear, apart from my own racing heart. “Here, sit.” He leads me to a seat. My fingers reach, tapping and touching as I lower into a large, sturdy chair with a carved feel to it, ornate arm rests, and a rigid cocoon-like quality.
Another heavy-sounding piece of furniture drags on the wood, I almost wince from the noise, it’s so overwhelming with the blindfold on. The aroma of the food is irresistible. I can’t place anything else, not a sound or smell or a feel, but I am getting hungry sitting here.
Where is he?
Is he sitting across from me?
Are we at a restaurant?
I reach with my hands but I touch nothing. The chair and I are an island.
Is there anyone else here? Are they watching me reach around and fumble?
I lower my hands to my lap, confused, nervous, and starving. After a moment of anticipation, he mutters, “Take it off.”
I lift my fingers, delicately removing one corner to peek at my surroundings.
The dim light blinds me for an instant as I pull it off completely. A wide smile crosses my lips, seeing Benson, his butler, holding a silver tray.
“Miss Ford.” He bows slightly, placing the tray at the table to my left where there are two others and leaves us alone.
We’re at Matt’s house.
We’re in his dining room.
The ornate chair isn’t what I recall being here before, but it’s impressive nonetheless.
Matt grins wide. “Surprise. We made you dinner.” He gets up and pushes my chair closer to the table, dragging it on the floor again. He bends and places a soft kiss on my neck, whispering, “I wanted you all to myself.” He kisses again and then stands up straight to pour wine for both of us.
“I don’t even know what to say.” I bite my lip and contemplate it. “I’m impressed. That scared the hell out of me.” And made me feel other things, but I can’t confess to those. It’s not part of the game.
My stomach is in knots, good and bad. I was worried and anxious and there’s a subtle sweat on my brow from the blindfold, but all in all, I’m impressed more than anything. And turned on. Very turned on.
“You said I could date you, but not have you. That was the toughest one for me. I’ve never really dated, and I don’t do well with not getting the thing I want.” He offers me one of those grins. “Especially when I’ve had it already and I know how much I want to have it again.”
“Matt—”
“While I want you, more than I want anything in the entire world”—he lifts the tray lids, revealing boxes and sits back down with his smug friggin’ grin—“I respect your wishes and your deal. But I just want you to know, I have a counterplan. I am going to make you fall so in love with me, you will beg me to break all the rules and we will forget this deal.” He sips the wine, cockier than ever.
“It’s a brilliant plan.” I feign confidence and lift the wine, offering a “Cheers,” and take a sip, deciding to go for the jugular since he has pretty much won me over with one attempt. It was the elevator. Whatever. “But you forget, you’re the first boy to break my heart. I have sworn to myself you will be the last boy to break it.” I put the wine down, avoiding all eye contact with the boxes. “So your plan is doomed to fail.”
“We’ll see. Open them.” He waves one of his huge hands at the boxes.
“Bribing me doesn’t work, Beast.”
“It’s not what you think.” The gleam in his eyes is insufferable.
“Fine.” I put down the glass and grab one of the small boxes, untying the satin ribbon and lifting the snug lid. It drags against the box until it’s free. Again, a smile crosses my lips. I lift my gaze to his, confused and yet impressed. “How did you get this?” It’s a Polaroid of a wall with a larger framed photo, a picture of me at the Lumineers concert with Nat next to me. We’re obviously singing at the top of our lungs with glossy eyes and astonished expressions. It might be the best picture ever taken of us.
“Do you like it?”
“I do,” my voice cracks. “Where is it?” I lift my gaze, scanning the area for it.
“In my room. I can show you if you like.” He toys with his grin.
Damn! He has a picture of me in his room?
He’s really rocking this. I don’t even know how it’s possible he’s doing this well. I’ve lost the upper hand I’d thought I gained.
Taking a breath and another sip, I put the picture down and grab the next box. My stomach grumbles with excitement and starvation.
The ribbon and lid come off easier on this one. When I get the lid off, I’m confused. It’s a key with a violet bow as a keychain. I lift it, cocking an eyebrow. “You got me a house?”
“No. That key represents my commitment to all of this.” He doesn't flinch at the word commitment, even though I do. “You and I will be spending Christmas together in London this year. That’s where this started four years ago, and it’s where it's going to end.”
My eyes widen on “end.”
“We’re going to start a new chapter there. A new beginning.”
“Matt—”
“That’s the key to my apartment in our building there. We’ll treat it the same as this thing we have going. It’s just a thing until New Year’s. From here on it’s nothing serious. Whatever games I have before Christmas, I’ll finish off, and then you and I, we’ll fly that night to London. You’ll stay in London since we both know your parents will be there anyway. I’ll use the jet to get back for my games and then come directly back to you for New Year’s Eve where we will end this game. Even if I have a game New Year’s, which hopefully I don’t, I will skip to be with you. Then we can both fly home to the States for whatever my next game is.”
“That’s insane. You’ll be exhausted.”
“You’re worth it.” He doesn’t even bat an eyelash at the flights or saying that sentence. He has really upped his game since I ended everything, only I don't think this is a game anymore. I don't know what to do so I pretend this is all in fun.
“You want to make this promise now? At the beginning of this little deal?” I sit back, not sure how to take this.
“Sami, I don’t think you understand the depth of my feelings for you, which is my fault. I didn't understand either and I let you slip through my fingers. It’s my goal to show you, before anything else. So that when we do officially get together, you won’t ever doubt me again.” He leans across the table and pushes the last box to me.
I’m no longer doubting him and am more or less doubting my own resolve to stay with this when I pick the next box. My fingers feel clammy and cold as I pull the ribbon off and lift the lid.
Inside is a ticket. It’s not like any ticket I’ve ever seen. I lift it up, scowling. “What is this?”
“It’s for a party. Will you come?”
“When?”
“I don't know. Depends on the playoffs. If we make it, the party will be in July and if we don't, it’ll be in May or June.”
“I have school,” I add, not mentioning that I’ve changed my major and need to get some serious work done to graduate on time. I haven’t told anyone. Not even Nat. I didn’t want anyone to laugh when I said I wanted to go into business.
“I know, but it’ll be worth skipping a couple days.”
“Okay. What kind of party?”
“A surprise.”
Everything about this evening has been a surprise. My heart is racing. My mouth is watering like I might get sick. But I sip the wine, ignoring how bitter it tastes now.
“You look worried.” He says it as though he might also be worried.
&nb
sp; “Can I be honest with you?” I’m a little light-headed.
“I prefer it when you are.”
“I didn't expect this. I made that deal with you, thinking you would show your true colors and disappoint me and save me from feeling anything for you. I figured the whole thing would eventually get boring and you would give up.” It’s mean.
“You’re going to be very disappointed, if that's what you actually want.” His eyes are on fire, blazing with determination. “I meant everything I said that night at my party.”
I gulp back some more wine, not sure what to add.
Fortunately, the meal comes and I don't have to say anything.
Chapter 3
Christening
Dec. 31, 2015
Natalie
The sea of boxes is daunting.
“I think we have more shit than the last time we moved,” Brady groans and carries another box to the bedroom. “When I say we, I mean you.”
“The movers did offer to unpack, you said no.” I sigh.
“I don't need to pay people to do things I am perfectly capable of doing.” He’s grumpy from the last few days of travel, even if they won their previous three games and he scored twice.
“Brady, you’re traveling all week to and from games, we’re moving, and it was just Christmas. Can we finish this later?” I glance at my phone to see the texts from Sami. We haven’t spoken since Christmas Eve, which has her texting me every tiny detail of her existence as if I’m a log book. We never fight like this so I want to text her back, but I need to make a stand on principle. The time catches my eye. “Mike and Liz are going to be here in six hours.”
“Then stop screwing around on your phone and finish the kitchen.” He laughs bitterly.
I lift my gaze, glaring at his back. “You’re sucking the joy outta this.”
“Says the girl who ruined Christmas by pouting for a week straight. Your mom thinks I’m doing something to make you this way, and I can’t tell her it’s just you and Sami, as usual.” He carries another box to the bedroom.
“I didn't ruin Christmas!”
