The Game Changer

by Lana Ferguson

“I see this guy is still clinging to life.” “Who?” Lila angles my way, chuckling when she sees what I’m holding. “Ears will outlive us all.”

“You really never noticed?” Her voice is barely a whisper now, and I feel like I’m under a spell, watching her lean in ever so slightly. “I…” I struggle for words, because the implication is there, but to acknowledge it would be a game changer for the both of us.

You really never noticed? I want to pull her back and ask her what those words meant. I want to know what that look on her face meant. I want to know if she was actually joking or if she meant everything that she just said. But mostly… I want to know why I’m so disappointed by the possibility that she didn’t.

“We’re just friends.” “Did you even see that park photo? Man practically had stars in his eyes, and he was almost on his knees for you.”

“I think there’s some fucking chemistry there.” God, I wish that were true. It’s so much harder than I thought it would be, playing this game. Every time that I see Ian, spend time with him, I’m reminded of all the reasons why I was so obsessed with him to begin with. There’s something so…comforting about him.

Something solid and reliable that feels like stability and home and all sorts of other good things that turn me into a pile of goo whenever he’s nearby. It doesn’t hurt that he’s fucking hot either.

“You’ve got tits I’d kill for and an ass that won’t quit, babe,” she says. “Plus, you’re, like, sunshine incarnate.” “Should I be offended by that?” “Only if you strive to be a cynical asshole like moi.”

By the time I knock on the door, I’m practically sweating. Which I don’t do. I don’t fucking sweat over guys. I’m giving myself a mental girlboss ass-kicking when the door swings open, and then I’m flummoxed by wet, red curls and stormy gray eyes and a dark navy T-shirt that is stretched tightly over a broad chest—the shoulders wet from his hair.

It’s not at all how I feel, but it’s not like I can demand he tell me what other women he’s had over—who they are, what they are to him, why they were there. It’s wholly not my business and definitely not my place.

“Me? I’m…” I frown. I can’t really tell her what I’m actually doing, which is stressing out about a “maybe, maybe not” date with a woman I can’t stop obsessing over.

“Don’t think I don’t surf the web, too, son. I’ve seen the pictures of you and the Baker girl. Delilah? She’s so gorgeous. She was always a cute kid, but my, what a looker she grew up to be.” I swallow around the lump in my throat; my mother has no idea how much I’m struggling with that very fact.

It feels like too much, seeing the obvious disappointment she’s carrying; I’ve disappointed so many people in my life, and Lila is someone I desperately don’t want to add to the list.

“Your skating has definitely improved,” I say, going for teasing. She snorts under her breath. “Yeah, well, the last time you saw me in skates, I was still wearing a training bra.”

“We have the same eyes,” I remind her. She turns her head, her lips curling and her expression warm as she says, “No, you really don’t.” I don’t know what to say to that, since I can’t really think over the current pounding of my heart, so I just clear my throat, nodding instead.

“If I’m being honest? I’m not sure we ever loved each other like that. She was my best friend. We helped each other through a lot of shit. I loved being there for her, and she felt the same for me. I think we both thought that was a good enough reason to get married.”

“Being together knowing we would never feel that way. I wanted Mei to go out there and find someone she could be in love with, not just love. You know?”

I hold her tighter, pulling her hand to my chest and holding it over my heart as I try to figure out how to tell her what I’m feeling. She looks down at our joined hands, then back up at me with surprise.

“If they saw you now? Would it be too late?” Her lip is trembling, but her eyes…Her eyes are fucking shining. “I think…you know the answer to that too.”

“I see you, Lila,” I tell her quietly. Her hand trembles in mine. “Took you long enough.”

“Let me be clear,” he says firmly. “I have been thinking about this for a lot longer than I probably should have. Fuck, since the moment you waltzed back into my life.

Do you know how shocked I was that day in the studio? That the girl I cared for so much growing up turned into this gorgeous woman I suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about? Because I haven’t, Lila.

I don’t know what it means, and I don’t know if it’s a good idea, but I haven’t stopped thinking about you for weeks now. And I can’t think of a single fucking thing I want ...

“No. I don’t. I want to take you in the other room and find out if your mouth is as soft as it looks.” “Well.” My lips quirk, and I reach to wind my arms around his neck. “What are you waiting for?”

Nothing, and I mean nothing—not years of want, not daydreams of the dizziest fashion, nothing—could prepare me for the way his mouth fits mine.

He surges down to meet me in a way that matches the desperation I’m feeling, his hands reaching under my thighs and hoisting me up into his arm...

He makes a soft, hungry sound deep in his throat when I tease my tongue along his lower lip, letting them part as he sucks on it like it’s candy, making my toes curl. I distantly register that we’re moving, but barely, too consumed by the way his hands are drifting to palm my ass, t...

“Is this okay?” “Ian, I’ve wanted you to kiss me since training bras, remember? Fucking get down here.”

He’s still cradling my head with one hand, maneuvering me however he wants as he kisses me senselessly, but I feel his other hand press against my side, ghosting along my curves with gentle fingers as he maps the shape of me.

Even through my clothes, his touch makes me shiver, makes me tilt my hips up to meet yet another surprise, one that I also could never have really imagined correctly. Because Ian Chase is hard. He’s hard for me. And I can see on his face the second that he realizes that I know it.

“Oh?” My mouth curves into a sly grin, and I roll my hips just for fun. “You can’t?” “Fuck, Lila.”

“You like that, sweet girl?” Oh wow. My imagination should be fired for never offering up that little gem.

“Greedy,” he murmurs, swiveling his hips so I can feel every delicious inch of him rubbing between my legs. “Like that?” “Feels good,” I groan. “Would feel better without all the layers.”

“You always smell so sweet. You fucking taste sweet. I want to taste you everywhere.” His hand snakes between us, and I gasp when I feel the heat of his fingers sliding against the denim between my legs. “Especially here.”

“Mm.” I let my fingers tease through the ends of his hair, tugging it and forcing a soft moan from his lips. “Honestly, with as many times as I’ve come in my pants while thinking about you, it feels pretty fair.” Ian shivers. “You really are a brat, aren’t you.”

“You’re going to ruin me. Aren’t you.” My smile is soft now. “I sure fucking hope so.”

“To be continued?” “Yeah?” I ask, beaming. “You better fucking believe it.” He scowls. “Maybe just…not while your brother is home.”

I sit up properly to pull him to me, capturing his mouth in a long, slow kiss that feels as dirty as it is sweet, and packed full of promise. “Deal,” I say after, a little breathless.

“I kind of like you too.” “Ditto,” I answer dazedly, feeling very much like my crush—my first crush—just made out with me on his bed.

He tugs my hand, moving toward the door. He peeks into the hall to check and make sure that it’s still empty before pulling me through the living room to the front door, pausing with it open to haul me against him for another kiss that has me pressing up on my toes, toes that are now curling in my shoes.

I haven’t stopped thinking about Lila in days; her warm mouth, her soft curves, her quick wit and her kind heart and all the things that make her inherently her have been at the forefront of my brain since she snuck out of the apartment the other day, mostly because it feels surreal that I’ve gotten to experience it all.

The rest of what I’d been about to say falls flat when I catch sight of soft brown waves and a smile that brings my anger from an inferno to a simmer, swallowing down the rest of my vitriol and deciding that Bradley Chase isn’t worth my time right now.

“Hey, Cupcake,” she says sweetly, reaching out to hook a finger in my pocket. She gives it a sharp tug, surprising me as she presses up on her toes to leave a brief kiss at my mouth. I find myself leaning into her as if instinctually, my eyes closing of their own accord as my hands unconsciously gravitate toward her waist.

“You’re such a brat.” “Mm.” She leans in, lowering her voice as she traces my name on the front of my apron with the tip of her finger. “But you like that about me.”

“Maybe if you’re a good boy today, I’ll let you show me how much you like it.” She turns away then like she didn’t just drop the sexual equivalent of the atom bomb at my feet, looking innocent as she situates her bowls and her ingredients.

“Maybe if you’re good today…I won’t have to spank the brat out of you.”

Ava continues to run down the flow of the episode, but I’m stuck on you two are boning, my mind traveling back to the moment where we got dangerously close. Not that I’ve really stopped thinking about that moment since it happened. If I’m not worrying about whether or not we should cross that line, I’m desperate to hurdle over it like I’m in the fucking Olympics and she’s the gold medal. Which, to be fair, she absolutely is.

“Good boy,” she coos. My cock twitches. It’s like a switch has been flipped, and now I can’t turn it off. Is there anything Lila can do that won’t turn me on? She winks at me, and my poor dick gives another desperate jerk. Apparently not.

I can tell by the way her teeth press against her lower lip that she knows exactly why I’m not paying attention, and that it has everything to do with her sweet voice and her authoritative command of her kitchen.

She’s just so in her element that it’s hard not to get a little swept away by her. I find myself slightly aroused by it but also infinitely proud of her all at once, and it’s a very confusing set of emotions to deal with at the same time.

“Just need to get the pastry filling we made earlier so it can start thawing a bit. We want it to be nice and creamy when we fill the pastries.” Now, I’ve never been turned on by the word creamy before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything.