by G. , Whitney
Why does she have to be the best candidate? Should I interview her?
Granted, I still hated her down to her marrow, but I already knew that she would stay out of my way. We’d shared hotel rooms during competitions before—not by choice, but we’d managed to stay alive until checkout time.
Sighing, I opened the door to run after her, but she was still standing there.
“I really need a place to stay, and I can pay for the first ten months in advance.” The words rushed out of her mouth. “And this is like the nicest, most affordable condo I’ve seen online since I moved here. Even if it belongs to someone who is practically Satan, can you at least give me the interview? We don’t have to be friends to be roommates, and we’ve roomed together before, remember?”
“Well, that depends on how honest you are.” I crossed my arms. “How hard did you party when you surpassed me and ranked at number one?”
“Far harder than you did when you used to throw it in my face every month.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course, you know I was only number one for eight months, until Natalie La Croix got in the way.”
“She was so overrated.”
“Tell me about it.” She nodded. “Her programs were so technically sound that they were boring. I fell asleep forty seconds into her routine at Skate America.”
“That, and she always had a bullshit background story for her costumes,” I said. “She said she wore flecks of brown dirt in her sleeves one time because she wanted the audience to see the beauty of the earth as she skated. She said that shit with a straight face.”
“I’m still convinced that the white angel dust in her Cup of China costume was a different type of dust, if you catch my drift.”
Her eyes met mine, and we both burst into laughter.
“We can do the interview,” I said. “But I can’t make any promises.”
“Okay.” She nodded and stepped inside.
“Tour first?” I motioned for her to follow me. I showed her the second master bedroom that was down the hall from me. Then we returned to the kitchen.
“It’s even prettier in person,” she said. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. You say that you can pay ten months in advance?”
“I can write the check by morning.”
“Do you have any pets?”
“No.”
“What about any weird habits?”
“I like to watch anime and Sailor Moon marathons every Saturday morning.”
“You still do that?” I crossed my arms, remembering that she used to skate to that show’s theme song during her warmups. “Don’t you know every episode by heart at this point?”
“Yes, but they recently released a new collection of crystal toy wands, so I’m re-watching to get the movements right.”
I gave her a blank stare. The “I like to stare at dead bodies” woman was still in the running.
“Will it bother you if I have a guy friend over once in a while?” I asked. “We hang out in the living room sometimes, but I go to his place more than he comes here.”
“Not at all,” she said. “I don’t have any friends.”
“Me either. Outside of him, anyway.”
She smiled. “How does it feel to have a famous ex-boyfriend?”
“Huh?”
“Hayden Hunter,” she said. “The guy who came to all your practices and performances. Did you know he’s like a super-rich mogul now?”
“Oh. We’re still friends,” I said. “He’s the guy I was talking about. We were never dating.”
“What?” She looked stunned. “Never?”
“Never.” I shrugged. “There was nothing there.”
“Sorry for asking.”
“Don’t be. We get that question all the time.” I started to tell her that I would give her a decision by nightfall, but my phone suddenly buzzed in my pocket.
Just Hayden: Sarah just ran the mortician girl through a background check. She stabbed her last roommate a year ago and claimed self-defense.
Just Hayden: She also received a citation for keeping raw pigs’ heads at her last apartment.
I set down my phone. “What day do you want to move in?”
Three
Present Day
A few weeks later
Penelope
Eeerkkkkk! Eeeerrrkkk! Eeeeerrk!
The layover plane landed at Charlotte Douglas International with a sickening series of screeches that knocked me out of my nap.
One motivational speech down, hundreds more to go.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for flying with Elite Airways.” The pilot’s voice came over the speakers. “Per the flight attendant’s previous announcement, most of you are taking this same plane to New York City in an hour. Please allow those who are not to get off first.”
“Also,” a soft voice came over the speakers next, “If you’d like to take the other flight to New York that’s in four hours, please see the gate agent at G-8 upon deplaning.”
I looked out the window as another plane rolled on the tarmac.
“Excuse me?” My seat-mate tapped my shoulder.
“Yes?” I turned to face him.
“Are you staying on this flight?”
“Yes.” I unbuckled my seatbelt and stood up. “After I get something to eat.”
“I wanted to say something to you earlier, but you had your earbuds in.”
“Yeah … ” I made a mental note to keep them in when I got back on later.
“I recognized your name from your bag.” He pointed to it and smiled. “Penelope “Perfect Feather” Carter. I was a huge fan of yours back in the day.”
I nodded, wondering if I should ask if he wanted to take a selfie together.
“You used to look really good in your costumes,” he said. “You started skating at six, I believe.”
“Four,” I said. “I skated several years after that, too.”
“Yeah, but—” He waved his hand. “I stopped watching once you turned sixteen.”
“Um, okay.”
“You just weren’t my type anymore.” He winked. “You were past my preference, if you catch my drift.”
Bile rose up my throat.
“You were far more fascinating to watch in the beginning,” he said. “I still use clips of your old programs plenty of times whenever I want a nostalgic night.”
I blinked a few times, rescinding all thoughts of offering anything except a police tip. “I uh, I need to go now.”
“It’s a shame what happened to you at the end, but are you coaching any new girls now?” he asked. “Any young hopefuls that I can look forward to watching this season? Better yet, don’t tell me now. I’ll wait until you get onboard again so I can write down their names.”
I turned around and rushed off the plane.
I was switching to that other flight. Now.
G-8. G-8. G-8…
Rushing through the crowds, I held my purse close to my chest and hoped I would run into an alternate version of reality.
“Excuse me, excuse me!” I pushed my way past a group on the moving sidewalk, then I made it past the food court.
As I was nearing Concourse G, I lost my balance and collided head-first into what felt like a wall.
For a split second, I could see exactly how everything after was about to unfold in slow, detailed motion.
Face meet ground. Everything in my purse flies high into the air, all before—
“Whoa.” A pair of heavy hands gripped my waist from behind. “Slow down there. Are you alright?”
I stared at the ground, my nose inches away from the concrete. I took a few seconds to gather my thoughts. I also couldn’t help but think that the deep voice sounded familiar.
I took my time standing up and turned around, finding myself face to face with a man I hadn’t seen in years.
He was a man who invaded my dreams whenever I wondered what could’ve been.
The one that got away …
My jaw slo
wly unhinged as I looked him over.
Somehow, all these years later, he’d become ten times sexier.
Dressed in jeans and a dark grey T-shirt that revealed muscles that were far more defined than they were years ago, he was also a lot taller. His dirty blond hair was cut low, and his full and defined lips were still tempting as ever.
As he stared into my eyes, I felt like we were in college all over again.
The memories flooded my brain frame by frame, blending into a beautiful montage.
I saw him asking me to stay later in his dorm room for “one more episode,” witnessed the two of us getting kicked out of the library for staying too long, and watched him subtly throwing hints and smiles my way that I never seemed to catch.
I’d always asked Hayden about every guy before I made a pursuit, but since we were in the middle of a “Cold War” then, I never got around to it. Instead, I watched some other woman intercept Simon’s hints and smiles, watched as she ran off the field with him and scored an engagement.
“Simon Gaines?” I said.
“Penelope Carter.” He smiled a perfect set of pearly whites. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again. Good thing I did, though. My memories didn’t do you any justice.”
I blushed, and we stared at each other for what felt like forever.
“Dare I ask why you’re running like someone is chasing you?” He smiled again.
“I think my seat mate was a pedophile. Well, is, and I need to change my flight before it fills up. That’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, right?”
He pressed a hand against my forehead, sending every nerve in my body wild with that mere touch. “Do I need to call a medic for you?”
“No.” I couldn’t think straight with him this close to me. “I’m more than fine. I’m—Hi.”
“Hi.” He laughed and moved his hand. “Where are you headed today?”
“New York City.”
“Really?” He crossed his arms. “Are you visiting someone there?”
“No, I live there.”
“What?” He looked dumbfounded. “I’m in the process of permanently moving there. Well, I’m going back and forth to Florida to get all my things.”
I glanced down at his left hand, where a wedding band should’ve been, but nothing was there.
There wasn’t even a tan line.
“She and I didn’t work out,” he said, reading my mind. “Six months before the wedding, she told me that she was still in love with her ex, so she broke up with me.”
Oh. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Don’t be.” He looked me up and down. “I’m not.”
Silence.
“Attention passengers who are flying on flight 3505 to Miami International, the door at F-7 will be closing in fifteen minutes.”
“That’s my flight,” he said, sighing. “I’m having a private ‘Welcome to New York’ party for my company two weekends from now,” he said. “I’d love to see you there. If you’re interested in me making you come, of course.”
“What did you just say?” I was certain I’d heard that wrong.
“If you want to come, I’d love to see you there.” He smiled. “What did you think I said?”
I didn’t answer that. “I would love to go to your party.”
“Good to know.” He reached into his pocket. “Shit. I left it back at my gate. Can I give you my number?”
I nodded, pulling my phone from my pocket. I tapped the screen and it vibrated a few times, the tell-tale sign of battery death.
He laughed. “Maybe this is an omen.”
“Yeah, I guess we should never speak again.” I quipped. “I guess I’ll see you later.”
“I hope you’re joking, Penelope.” He motioned for me to follow him to the condiment stand outside of Starbucks.
“Here. We’ll do this the old-fashioned way.” He grabbed a napkin and uncapped a pen, scribbling down his number. “Call me whenever you’re free, and I’ll give you more details about the party.”
“Okay.”
He looked as if he wanted to say more, as if he wanted to pull me close and finally put an end to a fantasy I’d had years ago, but a reminder about his flight sounded over the speakers once again.
“I’ll be waiting for your call.” He looked me over one more time before walking away. “I’m so glad I ran into you again.”
“Me too.”
I waited until he was out of sight before rummaging through my purse for my phone charger. Plugging it into the closest socket, I connected to my phone and waited until it reached five percent to power it on.
Scrolling down to Hayden’s name, I hit call.
It didn’t ring once.
His voicemail sounded instead.
“Leave a message at the sound of the beep, and I’ll think about getting back to you.”
Beep!
I sighed and sent him a text.
Me: Just landed in Charlotte. Call me when you see this.
I made it to the other gate and switched my flight before finding another Starbucks with a vacant socket.
Impatient, I ordered a cup of coffee and waited for Hayden’s name to cross my screen via phone call. It never took him longer than ten minutes to get back to me, and even in those rare cases when he couldn’t pick up, he’d have Sarah or his advisor Lawrence send me an “He’ll call you back in a few” message.
Confused by his silence, I sent an email to his business inbox just in case he had his personal alerts off.
Subject: GAHHHH! CALL MEEE!
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Too impatient to wait another second, I called Tatiana.
“Oh my god!” She answered on the first ring. “I’ve been waiting for you to call me. Are you back in New York yet?”
“Still in Charlotte on a layover,” I said. “You won’t believe who I just saw.”
“I bet I can guess,” she said. “Did he make your panties wet?”
“Um, maybe.” I laughed. “I’m sure if I’d stared at him any longer that probably would’ve been the case.”
“Maybe? You might be the only woman in the country who feels that way. I guess that’s why you two have remained platonic for so long.”
“Wait, what? What the hell are you talking about?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Simon Gaines,” I said. “A guy I went to college with. I think I’ve told you about him before. I showed you some of our pictures in my college scrapbook. He’s the guy with the—”
“I’m talking about Hayden’s dick.” She cut me off.
“What?”
“You haven’t seen it? It’s all over the news right now—deservedly so, might I add.”
I tapped my fingers against the table, realizing that he was probably in another mini-crisis meeting with Lawrence now. The last time his “nudes” leaked, it was a few grainy pictures and the guy turned out to be an extortionist.
“It’s probably not Hayden, Tatiana,” I said. “Don’t believe the hype.”
“Oh, it’s definitely Hayden.” She laughed. “Look at them now and give me your thoughts.”
“No, I—”
“Look. At. Them.” She goaded me. “I texted you a few links.”
“Fine.” I sighed and put her on speaker. “Hold on.”
I clicked on the first link—expecting to be met with another montage of exposed-ab outtakes from his recent GQ cover shoot, but—
OH. MY. GOD!
My jaw dropped to the floor.
Hayden was standing on a balcony, his perfectly chiseled body on full display, a satisfied smirk on his lips. His eyes were staring right at the camera, saying, “Come here,” and there was a Cuban cigar in his left hand.
His cock stood hard and erect between his legs, thick and huge. Far bigger than any of the cocks I’d ever seen.
How the hell does any woman take all of this?
I shook my head in utter disbelief, unable to
stop staring at it.
I scrolled down to look at the other pictures, him in other positions. His cock was breathtaking at every angle.
In all the years that we’d been friends, I’d jokingly asked why women couldn’t seem to get enough of him in the bedroom, why they’d asked for “repeats” long after he’d turned them down.
“Is your dick magical or something?” I’d say.
He’d laugh and say something sarcastic, and I continued to assume that they were blinded by his looks.
His cock pictures shattered that notion all at once.
How does it even fit?
“Um, hello?” Tatiana’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Are you there?”
“Yeah…”
“You agree it’s him, right?”
“Yes.”
“Are your panties wet now?”
Hell yes. “Nope.” I clicked off the picture. “Can I tell you about Simon Gaines now?”
“Depends. Does he have some dick pics that I can stare at?”
“No.”
“Then no.” She laughed. “I’ll happily listen to it tonight when I get home from working out, though.”
“So much for being a new friend.”
“We’re still enemies.” She ended the call, and I laughed.
Hayden never called me back, and against my better judgment, I spent the entire flight to New York staring at his dick for far longer than I would ever admit.
Four
Present Day
Hayden
“Can you give me any reason why I woke up this morning with your balls in my face?” Lawrence slammed a paper onto the café table. “Better yet, you want to tell me why your six-inch slong is currently the number one trending topic in the country?”
“First of all, hello, Lawrence.” I smiled at him. “I see that you’re angry as usual on this lovely afternoon.”
“Answer my question.”
“Second of all, I’m happy to let you know that my ‘slong’ is definitely longer than six inches.”
“Give me a reason, Hayden.” His face reddened. “Give me a reason right now.”
