by G. , Whitney
“People are talking a lot of shit about you on Twitter,” I said, opening the door. “I’m not sure if I should associate with you anymore.”
“I’m not sure if you should keep sending me the worst ones via screenshot, then.”
“I have to, in order to keep your ego in check.”
“Interesting.” He smiled and pulled a white box out of his pocket, handing it to me. “Here’s the gift for Mack.”
“This gift is addressed to you, Hayden.”
“Oh, right.” He tore the tag off and stuffed it into his pocket. “There. Now, it isn’t.”
I rolled my eyes and ushered him inside.
He walked straight to the refrigerator—as always, stopping when he saw my cupcake concoctions on the counter. “Please tell me that you don’t expect anyone to eat these.”
“They’ll be fine once I put the frosting on top.”
“I doubt that.” He plucked one from the tin and flipped it over. “They’re fucking burnt, Penelope.”
“They won’t be after I put the frosting on top.” I snatched it back, and he laughed.
“I hope that after today’s ‘Meet the Family’ episode, that you’ll be honest with Mack and tell him about the lackluster sex.” He poured a shot of scotch. “Reaching the six-month mark means you should be able to be honest.”
“Our sex isn’t lackluster.”
“You’ve finally had an orgasm, then?”
“No.” I swatted his hand away from the fruit tray.
“Has he gone down on you?”
“That’s none of your business.” My cheeks reddened.
“So, that’s a no.” He handed the shot glass to me. “You’re fine dying without any of your boyfriends properly doing that to you?”
“It’s not a big deal.” I shrugged. “Not every guy wants to do that.”
“It’s not about the guy, Pen. It’s about you. You need to tell him what you want.”
“I will.” I downed the alcohol. “But you know, everyone isn’t comfortable talking about sex as easily as the weather like someone I know.”
“That’s a shame.” His lips curved into a smirk. “That means there are a lot of people in this world having terrible sex. Hopefully, you’ll stop being a member of that club before you turn thirty.”
I stood on my toes and slapped the back of his head.
He laughed and poured two more shots.
As we were tossing them back, Mack walked through the front door.
“Hey babe,” he said.
“Hey.” I walked over and kissed him. “Mack, this is Hayden. Hayden this is Mack.”
“Nice to finally meet you,” Hayden said, extending his hand. “I’ve heard a lot of good things.”
“I wish I could say the same…” Mack left his hand hanging, and the room suddenly became ten times smaller.
Hayden shot me a look, but I had no idea what to say.
“Should we wait for your brother?” Mack asked.
“No, he cancelled at the last minute. He’s too deep into training for his next fight,” I said. “He did say he could video chat with us later tonight, though.”
“Oh okay, cool.” He walked into the kitchen. “Well, you two can sit down and I’ll present the food like my mom once did. I’m still fasting, so I hope I used enough seasoning.”
We obliged, taking our seats near the window.
Mack placed a huge platter of alfredo and a basket of rolls at the center of the table. Hayden made me a plate before making one for himself.
“Penelope tells me that you work in the book industry?” Hayden asked, attempting to lighten the mood.
“Yeah.” Mack nodded. “I’m a senior editor.”
“Any books I should be on the lookout for?”
“There’s a How Not to Be an Asshole: Part 2 self-help book coming this fall.”
“Interesting.” Hayden smiled. “Maybe I’ll finally get around to finishing part one.”
“I gave him that one for Christmas,” I said, looking at Mack. “He needs a year of intense therapy and a personality transplant, not a book.”
Mack laughed.
“Do you still have the book that I gave you for Christmas?” Hayden looked at me, and I narrowed my eyes at him.
“No, I burned it.” I refused to discuss his handmade How to Ask My Boyfriend for What I Want in the Bedroom book aloud. “The author didn’t know what the hell he was talking about.”
“I think he’s very skilled in that subject matter.”
“No, he just thinks that he is,” I said. “I’ll happily show you the charred remains of the book if you like.”
“You’re a terrible liar, Penelope.”
“And you’re an incredible shit-stirrer.” I changed the subject. “How’s Mack’s alfredo?”
“It’s pretty good.”
“Did I tell you that he was almost a chef?” I added more pepper to his plate. “His mom owns a restaurant in New Jersey.”
“You did tell me that. We went there for dinner a few weeks ago, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” I sipped my wine. “I guess I forgot since your world has imploded since then, and I can’t tell if you’re laughing to keep from crying or crying on the inside.”
“It’s a bit of both.”
We laughed.
“Okay, fuck this shit.” Mack cut off our laughter, his voice terse. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“What?” I looked over at him. “What did you say?”
“I said, I can’t do this anymore.” He let out a breath. “Me, you, him. I literally cannot do this.”
I set down my fork, confused as to what the hell he was talking about. “You said you wanted to meet my family today.”
“Your family, not your …” His voice trailed off for a few second. “I’m sorry. I was thinking more along the lines of your brother. I don’t need a dinner date to meet Hayden. I mean, as much as he comes up in our conversations, I feel like I already fucking know him.”
“Mack, I’m not sure—”
“Every morning you talk to him about what we did the night before.” He interrupted me. “You click over when we’re on the phone if he calls, and you leave me hanging for hours.”
“I’ve only done that once, and it was an emergency.”
“Tinder suing him over Cinder for the umpteenth time is not an emergency.” He glared at me. “That shit happens every month, and you know what? One of these days, they’re going to beat him in court.”
“I highly doubt that …” Hayden muttered under his breath.
“I guess it’s good that he’s here, though,” Mack said. “Because I don’t have to hold back anymore and wonder how I should spend the next six months of my life. Him or me, Penelope. Tell me right now.”
“There is no ‘him or you,’ Mack.” My chest ached. “I want you as my boyfriend. Hayden is like a brother to me.”
“A brother in a taboo Porn-Hub video, maybe.” He shook his head. “I can’t continue to date you, if he’s still in the picture.”
“Mack, wait.”
“No.” He crossed his arms. “What’s it going to be?”
Silence.
The past six months of our relationship suddenly played on a rose-tinted loop in my head. Him kissing me in the elevator, him holding my hand in the rain, him promising me that he was falling for me, like I was falling for him.
Hayden wasn’t in any of those frames, and I couldn’t believe that Mack was threatened by him in the slightest.
“I don’t want to lose you as my boyfriend, Mack,” I said. “Please don’t do this.”
“I’m not doing anything.” He looked into my eyes. “It’s your choice.”
“You know what? I’m going to head out.” Hayden stood to his feet. “You two clearly need to talk alone, so—”
“No, we don’t.” Mack’s face reddened. “I’ll leave. I think it’s more than clear that she’s choosing you. Right, Penelope?”
“Hayden is just my
friend …”
“Right.” He rolled his eyes and stood up. “Just friends don’t do whatever the hell you two do, and I’m done pretending I’m okay with it. Thank you—both of you, for wasting the past six months of my life. You can keep the dinner and shit.”
He grabbed his jacket and stormed out of my apartment, taking a piece of my heart with him.
I moved from my chair and followed him, but just as I was opening the door, Hayden rushed behind me and pushed it shut.
“I don’t think so,” he said.
“What the hell are you doing?” I asked. “I need to go catch him so we can work this out.”
“It’s on him to come back to you,” he said. “But even then …”
I said nothing.
I already knew what came at the end of that sentence, the advice he’d given me when previous boyfriends hastily ended things for no good reason. “Any guy that gives you an ultimatum without considering how you feel isn’t worth your time. Name the breakup, cry if you have to, give him a title, and then move the hell on.”
“How about, The One Who Thought I’d Choose Him Over My Best Friend?” I asked, pretending like my chest didn’t hurt like hell.
“We already gave that title to one of your other exes,” he said. “I think you should sleep on his title for a while.”
“Right.” I let out a sigh. “What did you really think about his alfredo?”
“It was dry as hell and it was missing something.”
“Parmesan and butter, right?”
“Plus chives.” He walked over to the kitchen and pulled out a few bottles, placing them onto our plates. Then he carried them over to my couch, and I plopped down next to him.
“You can live with me for a while, if you don’t find a roommate by the end of the week,” he said.
“No, thanks.” I shook my head. “I don’t want to live anywhere where groupies and paparazzi lurk outside every entrance. No offense.”
“None taken.”
I leaned against his shoulder and sighed. “Go ahead and say it, so we can get this over with.”
“Say what?”
“The right guy will come into your life when you least expect it.”
“Please stop going on Pinterest and pretending these bullshit quotes belong to me.” He laughed. “If you want me to say my usual, which always proves true, then—”
“Please keep that to yourself.”
“I fucking told you so,” he said it anyway. “I didn’t like him for you after the two-month anniversary, and I’m surprised you stuck around for six.”
“It’s called monogamy.”
“It’s called ‘torture,’ if the only pleasure is in him taking you out on dates.” He looked at me. “Do me a favor and stop looking for Prince Charming. He doesn’t exist.”
“Should I seek out assholes, then?”
“No, you’ve had your fair share of those.” He shook his head. “Just stop trying so hard.”
“Fine. I won’t go on Cinder for a while … Or Tinder.”
“You should never go on Tinder,” he said, narrowing his eyes at me. “That’s the ultimate betrayal to me.”
“Just wanted to see if you’d still get angry at me for mentioning it.”
“I always will.”
“Will you judge me if I start crying about losing Mack?”
“Have I ever?”
“No.” I shook my head as tears pricked my eyes. “What would I do without you?”
“You’d never have to hear the words ‘I told you so.’” He smiled, wiping away a streak of my tears with his fingertips. “You think that would be worth it?”
“No.” I shut my eyes. “Never ...”
Two (B)
Present Day
Penelope
A few days later
“I hope that me having a career on OnlyFans won’t be a problem for you,” my latest “Hell no” roommate option walked around my living room. “I’ll probably need to use this couch as a backdrop for some of my deep swallowing and faux-bestiality videos, if you don’t mind.”
“OnlyFans doesn’t bother me,” I said, trying to think of a way to get her the hell out of my place.
If her need to use my place like a mini-movie studio was the only thing that made me raise my eyebrow, I would’ve agreed to let her stay, but the more she walked around, the more red flags she threw.
She let her Chihuahua run wild the moment she stepped inside, and she encouraged him to pee in my plant since “It’s good fertilizer for it. Trust me.”
“Well, I appreciate you seeing me on such short notice,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “I think you and I will make an incredible match.”
“I’ll let you know.” I forced a smile.
“Be sure to call me with a ‘Yes’ before eight tonight,” she said. “I’m taking Rex to the doggy spa, and I don’t answer calls when I’m there.”
Right. “Will do.”
The moment she stepped onto the elevator, I picked up my plant and held it under the tap. Then I scratched out her name and looked at the last potential on my list: Ashley Brave.
If this last interview didn’t work out, I’d have to choose between a chain smoking foodie and a mortician who warned me that she liked to hang up pictures of her “best work.”
Shuddering, I downed a glass of wine and watched the minute hand tick toward four thirty.
The doorbell sounded right on time, and I rushed over and swung the door open.
What the…
It took everything in me not to slam the door in her face.
This woman’s name wasn’t Ashley Brave. It was Tatiana Brave, and I’d live in a homeless shelter before living with her.
My fiercest competitor, and the only reason why I was missing three particular medals, she was still stunning as hell.
Her sun-kissed brown skin, curly hair, and hazel-colored eyes were striking as ever, and she looked like she could jump onto the ice and compete with ease.
Ugh. “It’s you.”
“You.” She glared at me.
Too bitter to speak, I crossed my arms—waiting to see if she’d steal the first word like she’d stolen my ranking several years ago.
“If I had known this place was yours,” she said, “I would’ve never answered the ad.”
“It’s a good thing you did.” I shrugged. “You can get a good look at a beautiful place where you’ll never stay.”
“I’ve always known that you were a cold-hearted bitch.”
“I’ve always known that you were a bigger one.”
“I’d die before living here.”
“Do you see me offering to let you in?” I started to slam the door in her face. “Good luck with your search.”
“Wait,” she said, wedging her foot against the frame. “I hate to ask, but can I please use your bathroom before I go?”
Offer her the plant to piss in.
“Fine.” I opened the door. “It’s down the hall and to the left. Make sure you get a good look at my medal collection on your way there. Pay special attention to the gold one from the Olympics in Sochi.”
“Too bad you’re missing the gold one from Pyeongchang.” She shrugged. “I wonder who won that one.”
“You have two minutes to handle your business and get the hell out.”
“It’ll take me less than that.” She walked down the hall and shut the door.
I immediately pulled out my phone and texted Hayden.
Me: I’m going with the mortician. Can you have Sarah run the background check for me?
His response was immediate.
Just Hayden: Are you sure? She gets aroused by staring at dead bodies, Pen.
Me: 100%.
Tatiana emerged from the bathroom as I hit send.
“Your bathroom is nice,” she said. “Is that the only one?”
“No, there are three. Two you’ll never see.”
She slid her purse over her shoulder and looked me right
in my eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever hated another person the way I hated you.”
“The feeling is still mutual.”
Silence.
We stared at each other, years of on-ice battles hanging between us. The viciousness I felt hadn’t dissipated in the slightest.
“What are you doing now?” she asked. “Like, career-wise.”
I said nothing.
“I heard you never got all your memory back after the fall. Is that true?” She looked somewhat sincere.
“I get bits and pieces back on some days, but I’m still missing a lot, and the memories are never in order.”
“Are you coaching?”
“I coach off and on,” I admitted. “I have a few private clients, but they’re not worth mentioning.”
“Let me guess. They have rich parents who are wasting their money since the kids can’t skate their way off the railing?”
“Exactly.” I nodded. “I give inspirational speeches to colleges and sports teams, too. I have one coming up in a few weeks in California actually.”
“Does that pay well?”
“Sometimes.” I paused. “Not ‘living in New York’ well. Hence, the roommate thing. I doubt it pays as well as your career.”
“How do you know what I’m doing?” She looked confused.
“I hate-follow you on Instagram from a burner account. I’m the person who always comments, ‘You’re not that pretty,’ and ‘Get over yourself.’”
“Good to know.” Her lips curved into a smile, but she didn’t let it stay. “I would say that it’s nice seeing you after all these years, but—”
“It’s not.”
“Agreed.” She walked toward the door. “Best of luck finding a roommate who doesn’t hate you.”
“Thank you.” I waited for her to step out before shutting the door.
I slumped against the wall and stared straight ahead.
It’d been years since I spoke to someone from my former life, someone who actually knew the ins and outs of skating. And for the first time in forever, my heart didn’t immediately ache mid-sentence when I discussed the fall.
