Play your part, p.19
Play Your Part, page 19
“For the record, you didn’t screw anything up. I got into my own head.”
One side of Alexei’s lips turned up into a small smile. “I’m familiar with that problem.” He opened his mouth once then closed it, warring with himself over his next words. I offered him a smile, feeling for the first time that maybe, just maybe, we battled the same feelings. “Do you want to get out of here? I’ve been waiting to watch the end of The Nightstand until I was with you.”
“After this song,” I said, leaning forward until my face rested on his shoulder.
29
ALEXEI
Kennedy drummed her fingers against the steering wheel as we sat at a red light before turning into our neighborhood. We’d spent most of the drive in comfortable silence with music playing in the background. She caught me looking at her once and held my stare, offering me a small smile. But with the proximity of my house, her relaxed state changed.
“You don’t have to be nervous,” I told her.
“What?”
I nodded to her still drumming fingers, which immediately put a stop to the motion.
“I’m not nervous. What would I have to be nervous about?”
“I don’t know,” I said, overenunciating the words. “You know what happens in the show. It couldn’t be because we’ll be alone again.”
Kennedy laughed, giving me the sound of pure joy I loved. “Someone is mighty full of himself.”
But as she pulled up in front of her house, her laughter ebbed, and she hit me with a look full of heat, her gaze roaming from my face to my lap. She unbuckled her seat belt before inching her dress up to midthigh. My eyes tracked her movements, drawn to the smooth creamy skin on display before me. Without a word, she swung one leg over the console, creating enough momentum to propel her entire body into my lap. She flushed at her clumsy movement, maybe at the boldness to surprise me like this. I pushed her hair over her shoulders before settling my hands on her hips.
“I told you I wasn’t nervous,” she whispered, those big brown eyes snaring me. She rolled her hips, pulling us closer and eliciting a groan from me. Her eyes widened at discovering exactly how much my body craved her, hard for her in moments.
“I can see that.” I scanned the length of her, from her flushed, wild-eyed gaze to where she straddled my waist. Not making a move took a ridiculous amount of self-control, but I wanted to see what she would do next.
Her parted lips remained inches from mine as she exhaled, long and slow. “I’ve been wanting to do this for hours,” she said, finally placing a hand on each side of my jaw and closing the space between our lips.
I kept my mouth still, allowing her to kiss my top lip first before moving to suck my bottom. When she deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue against mine, I lost my grip on self-control. She moaned into my mouth when I moved my tongue against hers, ratcheting up our pace.
Everything after that became frantic movements. The desperate slide of our lips, over and over, her fingers pulling at strands of my hair, my hands tracing her thighs beneath her dress, her hips bucking into me, making it impossible for me to think at all.
Time became meaningless.
“Alexei.” Kennedy pulled back just enough to separate our lips. Her words came between panting breaths. “I want you now.” Her shaking hands fumbled with my belt, the clanking sound reverberating in the silent car.
I placed my hands over hers to still the movement.
“What? Do you not—”
“How can you ask that?” I said, moving her hands slightly south. A move I regretted because it made it that much more difficult to exercise restraint. “But not here.”
She glanced around the car, as if suddenly remembering we were parked on a public street where anyone could stumble upon us. “Right. Sorry. I got… carried away.”
I laughed, tipping her chin so she could meet my stare. “Never apologize for coming on to me. Ever.”
Kennedy climbed off my lap onto the driver’s side of the car.
“Are you worried people might see you parked in front of my house?” I asked, wondering why she parked here instead of at my place, which was where I assumed we were headed. Matt and Gemma would be home any minute, and I had no desire to talk to them about whatever was buzzing between Kennedy and me.
“No, but I figured…” She trailed off, fiddling with the keys hanging from the ignition. “I didn’t want to be in the way…” She smiled shyly.
Tomorrow morning when I leave for practice. She planned to stay the night, not bolt like last time or sneak out after I fell asleep.
“Now who’s mighty full of herself?”
“I hate you,” she groaned.
“You know, I won’t believe those words from you ever again.”
“Why, because I pounced on you?” She rolled her eyes, facing me to make sure I saw it. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“No, not only that.” I reached out to rest my hand on her arm, a gesture to get her to look at me. “This entire night… I don’t talk to other people like I talk to you. I don’t share with anyone. And I don’t think you do either.”
You lit up when people acknowledged our relationship.
You rested your head against my shoulder while we danced.
You came home with me.
I didn’t dare say the words because they could mean nothing at all. All part of our act mixed with a heavy dose of lust. The guests at the party weren’t the only ones buying the narrative though. She made me believe it too. Either she acted her ass off or some part of her had blurred the lines between fake and real, like I’d done.
She shook her head slowly as she opened her door. “No, I don’t.”
I followed her lead, climbing out of the car, hoping my confession didn’t freak her out. Kennedy yanked her dress into place but didn’t bother fixing anything else—the strap that slipped from her shoulder, her tousled hair, the smudged lip gloss across her lips turned thoroughly pink from kissing me. Once she reached my side, she gasped in surprise. I followed her line of sight, spotting the shadow rising to its feet on Matt and Gemma’s porch. Instinctively, I stepped in front of her.
“Kennedy?”
Motherfucker.
The shadow took several steps until the streetlight slanted across his face, revealing that the worst possible end to my night had, in fact, come true. Justin Ward paused halfway through the yard as he realized who else stood in front of him.
Kennedy didn’t move a muscle, not to walk toward him or to give a single inkling on her face of how she felt.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” The words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. I was prepared to meet him on the ice in two days. Not here. Not in my personal life. Professionally, I would continue to see Ward until one of us retired from hockey, and that was too damn often.
“Kennedy,” Ward repeated, ignoring me. He didn’t so much as look in my direction. “I need to talk to you.”
“How did you know where I was?”
“Lucky guess.” He grinned, as if this was part of their history, an inside joke.
I wanted to knock his teeth in.
She looked at me, and before she said anything, I knew our night was ending. Never mind he trash-talked her to the media, she would choose him. Jump because he deigned to show her an ounce of attention.
“Talk to him,” I said loud enough for Ward to hear, so he knew he hadn’t won this round. “Find me after.”
“Bold of you to assume there will be an after,” Ward sneered.
Kennedy scowled at him. “I’ll only be a couple of minutes,” she whispered, leaning into me. “I’ll—”
“Don’t bother,” I whispered back, my voice all ice. “I don’t have time for distractions before the game.”
Kennedy flinched. “You’re right. You’re not cut out for it.”
I fixed my expression in neutral, not wanting her to know how much it bothered me to have my confession from earlier thrown in my face. Why should it matter if Kennedy thought I wasn’t cut out for a relationship? We would never have one. After one more month, she would let herself be dragged back to Ward. That the first steps toward that outcome were happening earlier than expected was the only surprise.
She pasted a smile on her face, one I saw her flash plenty of times tonight, and said loud enough for Justin to hear. “I’ll see you in a bit.”
Playacting, that was all we were.
“Can’t wait to see your ass on the ice, asshole,” I said to Ward before stalking toward my house, refusing to give either of them another look.
30
KENNEDY
Tonight, Justin Ward would return to Palmer City to face off against his old team. Everything led to this moment—the trade, the picture of Alexei and me, our fabricated relationship, the antagonizing press conferences. Deandra gleefully texted this morning to share that the game had the highest ticket sales of the season, nearly selling out for the first time in half a dozen years.
I hadn’t watched a hockey game since my mom died, but tonight, I would tune in from home.
Everything played out exactly as we’d intended. The Wolves had a winning record. Media coverage was boosted. People filled the arena. Alexei led the team in goals.
And in a month, we’d part ways after successfully milking everything we could from this “scandal.”
The idea of pulling this off should have filled me with a glimmer of happiness or a sense of accomplishment. The team wouldn’t move, not after the way this season electrified Palmer City.
Dating Alexei made Justin jealous, a small punishment for how he’d treated me. He wore the emotion all over his face the other night. Not that I could celebrate it. After Alexei stalked off, I couldn’t think of anything but what I snapped at him. I refused to talk to Justin, instead storming into the house like the coward I was.
Guilt sat like a rock in my stomach.
“And here we go,” one of the announcers gleefully stated as the ref dropped the puck and Justin won the faceoff. “The game we’ve all been waiting for.”
I drank in everything about the game—the electric way the players glided across the ice, the sound of skates scraping and players slamming into the boards, the familiar music blaring through the arena, the team that belonged to my family. The game my mother loved.
I loved it too.
I forgot how much joy it brought me. Or maybe I buried it deep to avoid what I’d lost. That connection to my mother, to something bigger than myself. I remembered the giddiness of game day when I worked for the Wolves, how Deandra and I would change into our jerseys in the bathroom after work, the ones emblazoned with our last names. Sometimes we swapped, so I sported Collins and she wore Cole. We waited in long lines for overpriced beer and too-salty pretzels.
It wasn’t only that my parents owned the team. I loved that my work contributed to the event playing out in front of me, connecting people. It allowed them to escape from their lives for a couple of hours. My work mattered, not in some larger cosmic sense—I wasn’t curing cancer—but people showed up to support and love the organization I worked for.
Please tell me you’re watching this. My phone buzzed with a message from Gemma after the first scrum between Justin and Alexei with three minutes left in the first period. Alexei had gained a step on Justin while in the offensive zone, and Justin hacked at him. It took him off his skates and sent him sliding into the goal. Alexei popped onto his feet and charged Justin. Soon, every player got in on the action, taking swings or pulling players back.
I’m watching, I texted back.
Your little rivalry is heating up.
In the penalty boxes, Justin and Alexei shouted at each other. Justin smirked, enjoying every moment of their fight. Alexei looked the opposite, his expression murderous before he covered his face with a towel to dry his sweat and the blood from a cut on his chin. The cameras remained on them until the game resumed.
Not my rivalry. This hatred had existed long before I came into the picture.
The game was tied when the third period began, amping up the undercurrent of tension humming through the arena. The tension ignited when Alexei and Justin fought each other along the boards for the puck, an extended fight that ended with Alexei shoving Justin and Justin taking a swing at Alexei’s face.
The crowd erupted in cheers, screams, and pounds to the glass as they dropped their gloves to trade punches. Justin snagged Alexei’s jersey, limiting his range of motion as he continued to deliver hits. Alexei struggled to break free but used the momentum of his body to slam Justin backward onto the ice before falling on top of him. That prompted the refs to break it up and send them both back to the penalty boxes for the rest of the game.
Or what would have been the rest of the game, if someone had broken the tie.
Overtime didn’t last long. During the first shift, Justin shoved Alexei, the move annoying him enough to activate another gear. He hustled after the puck as it was passed to Justin, intercepting it and dodging a hit with a midair spin, to push the puck ahead to Briggsy, who put the game away. Zach skated along the edge of the rink with one leg in the air as he thrust both hands up. Alexei slid into his arms, an enormous grin on his face, before the rest of the team enveloped them both.
That was a hug Gemma would, no doubt, appreciate.
As if on cue, a text from her arrived a moment later. My heart can’t take this, Kennedy. MY HEART.
For once, I could relate. Not only because my stomach did a little flip when the camera found Alexei’s unbridled expression of joy, but also because I made it through a game. I’d missed it more than I realized, but I also missed her. My mom would have gone wild for that goal—shooting right out of her seat into the air, slapping the hands of people around her, screaming loud enough for teenage Kennedy to shrink away in embarrassment.
Alexei waved to the crowd as they chanted his name, over and over again, as he sat on the bench waiting to be interviewed after being crowned the game’s first star. Volk, Volk, Volk, Volk. Nothing stopped their chants.
The interviewer proceeded anyway, asking Alexei what this game meant to him.
“This is validation,” he answered, still breathing heavily. “No one thought we could win. They called it a rebuilding year, but this team has proven everyone wrong. And we’re going to keep doing it. Hopefully, in front of more amazing crowds like the one here tonight.” Screams rose again. Alexei smiled. “You all made the difference.”
I shut the TV off.
I wanted to feel like I did before. To feel excitement in my life. A sense of purpose. The joy that lit Alexei’s face after they scored the game-winning goal. But I had no idea how to get back to a place of such hope.
Hope felt reckless after all I endured.
Living without it, though, felt dim.
My life had been reduced to safe routines—living by someone else’s rules, working a steady but less-than-fulfilling job, closing my circle to a handful of people. I couldn’t go back to my old life. That life belonged to someone else.
But it didn’t mean I had to settle for the one I’d been living.
After slipping into bed, my mind wouldn’t stop replaying what happened the other night. Alexei called me a distraction. It cut deep, the reminder our relationship had been an act. And yet, part of me knew that wasn’t all it was.
You’re not cut out for it. My words back to him haunted me. I hated myself for saying it.
I pushed out of bed, threw on jean shorts, a tank top, and a hoodie, slipped into flip-flops, and made my way to his house. The doorbell brought no one to the front door. After a few minutes, I used the key Alexei had given me. My call of anyone home? was met with silence, so I ventured further into the house until I found myself standing on the deck, watching Matt and Zach in the hot tub, eating pizza and drinking beer off two pool floats. A closed pizza box sat on the edge with a cooler, no doubt filled with more beer.
“Kensie!” Matt called, setting down his beer can. “What brings you to our recovery party?”
“I’m looking for Alexei.”
A goofy smile crossed Matt’s face. “Ah, of course. Our fearless leader isn’t here. He’s blowing off steam.”
Blowing off steam. The idea of him with someone else made me want to lose my dinner.
I couldn’t blame him. I’d started something we never finished. And he won one of the biggest games of his career tonight. Of course he wanted to celebrate.
“Oh no, he’s not—” Matt rushed to say, accurately reading my expression. “You don’t need to worry about that with Volk. He’s skating, trying to burn off the adrenaline.”
“You mean anger,” Zach said around a bite of pizza. “I’ve never seen him so pissed, and I’ve almost burned his house down, like, five times.”
“But he won the game.”
Zach pushed himself against the back of the hot tub, propping both arms on the ledge. “You watched the game?” he asked, not pausing for my response. “What did you think?”
“You played well. A little sloppy in the neutral zone in the first, but your aggressive offensive zone forecheck made up for it in the end. Nice goal, by the way.”
“Wait…” Zach’s mouth fell open, and he dropped a bite of pizza into the water. “Have you been, like, studying hockey to impress Volk or something?”
Matt snorted. “I don’t think she has to resort to talking shop to impress him. She’s got that pretty well in hand.”
My heart jumped into my throat. Had Alexei said something to him?
“You don’t watch hockey. How would you know—”
“I’ve been on this team for nearly half your life, Briggsy,” Matt answered for me. He'd only been on the Wolves for five years, but he never missed a chance to razz Zach. “Kennedy and her mom came to every game and cheered, even when we got our asses kicked.”
I sent a pointed look Zach’s way. “I didn’t say I never watched hockey, only that I don’t watch it much.”
