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(And for the girlies who love to see the six-foot-four NHL captain get on his knees and beg like a good boy–Maverick Miller is for you).
Mila warnerrr and 2 other people liked this
Grady has this way of drawing big, scary feelings out of me and forcing me to wear my heart on my sleeve, and I’m not sure I can handle that today.
“I’ve dealt with those kinds of guys my entire career. I don’t care how pretty or famous he is. I’m not touching that with a ten-foot pole.”
This is the biggest step I could ever take in my career, and when Grady smiles at me, I know I’m going to be okay.
Not like the other girls, the guys on my recreational hockey team would say after I took an elbow to the face in a game. One of us, they cheered when I wiped blood from my nose. I’d laugh it off, but deep down, I wanted to be like the other girls. I wanted someone I could talk to about first kisses and bad dates. Period cramps and hot substitute teachers. It’s been hard to recreate that girlhood as an adult, though. People like to tell me I’m difficult to get along with. Closed-off and too snarky. It’s how I’ve always been, ever since I can remember. I’m not angry but unsettled, which is why
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If she’s the sunshine, I’m the storm cloud. One of us is the people-pleaser and the other is the people-avoider. Two total opposites who found a friendship that works.
Rita ✮⋆˙ and 1 other person liked this
I’m not a big believer in soulmates, but I think Piper might be mine.
“There aren’t words. I’m so proud of myself, but I’m also terrified. The attention that comes with being a professional athlete is overwhelming, and even more so when you’re playing without a dick in a male-dominated sport.”
I feel that same sense of calm with Piper that I do with Grady. The assurance that even when everything feels overwhelming, there are still people who believe in me.
She just stares, and I blush when her mouth pulls up into a smirk that almost makes me drop to my knees. The goddess sets her hand on my chest, and I take another good look at her.
“It’s a shame it’s only going to be ninety-nine percent effective now. The only thing I want to do with you, pretty boy, is kick your ass on the ice,” she whispers. I swallow and try to get my bearings. She’s so close, and I fucking love it. “You think I’m pretty?”
He told me I had to skate with her. He didn’t say I had to be nice to her. If she’s going to dish it out, I’m sure as shit going to give it right back.
“Funny. I didn’t see your name on the building, hot shot.” “All I heard in that sentence was hot.”
“Glad to know you’re keeping tabs on our team, Red.”
“I have no problem with that. I love to eat.” He licks his lips, and the implication behind his words is obvious. “Sleep tight, Red. You have no idea what you’re in for.”
“I only have them for the ones who try to pretend they don’t like it. But it’s obvious you’re blushing.”
Good doesn’t begin to describe what I saw today. Hartwell’s hockey skills are on a different planet, and I think I might be a little bit in love with her. I’ve never seen anyone play like that, and I have no fucking clue how she’s not already on an NHL roster. She moves like a figure skater and has the strength of a weightlifter. Her attention to detail is unmatched. I saw the way her eyes anticipated my defensive moves before I got into position, and I’m going to dream about the way she hits the puck until my dying days. It’s effortless. Smooth like butter, and everything I adore about the
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“That’s my fu—freaking dream girl,” I whine, making sure I don’t drop any f-bombs in front of June. “We had a horrible first meeting, and now I have to play next to her with my tail between my legs.”
“Pretty sure I wanted to bark when I saw her for the first time,” I say. “It’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine. I’m either going to charm the pants off of her so she has no choice but to like me, or I’m going to annoy her so much, she’s going to demand a trade.”
“You have not. You’ve been busy living out your dreams, just like I thought I was living out mine. We’re here together now, and that’s what matters.” Her smile is kind and full of encouragement that I feel deep in my soul. “Give them hell, Emmy.”
The core group of these guys have been playing together for years. They might suck, but they make it obvious from interviews and photos they love each other. It’s hard to wiggle your way into a team’s already tight-knit circle of trust without coming across as trying too hard.
“Someone did their homework. You could teach your captain a thing or two.”
This back-and-forth is exactly how it felt when I met Grady the first time. A full-on grin bursts across my face at the thought of my best friend, and I wonder if Hudson could be that to me too.
“The compliments keep getting better and better,” Maverick says. “I can’t wait to hear what you think up next.”
“Says the woman who won’t stop talking about me when I’m not around.”
“Are you obsessed with me or something, Hartwell?”
“Hey,” Hudson says, and his smile matches the one Piper gave me earlier. “You’re one of us now. We’ve got you.”
The sensation strengthens when Maverick nods his head, his eyes locked on mine, and adds, “Yeah, Hartwell. We’ve got you.”
“Holy shit,” she curses. “Thinking about what I look like shirtless, Hartwell?” I joke. “I’m flattered.” A smile—the tiniest, faintest smile I’ve ever seen—pulls at her lips, and I’m the proudest motherfucker in the world. I want to set off a confetti cannon. Hang a banner from the rafters of the Civic Center that says I MADE EMERSON HARTWELL SMILE. Put it on a T-shirt and wear it around town. I think she’d actually strangle me if I did that, but it makes me want to do it even more.
You’re hurting my ego by outshining me, Red.” That earns me another half smile from her, and I want to collect them all. Shove them in my pocket and keep them for myself.
Consider it a very lengthy, very drawn out game of Twenty Questions. Better yet, let’s make it Five Hundred Questions. Every time we’re together, we get to learn something new.”
never make small talk with women. I don’t have to. Everyone knows what they’re getting into with me—sex. An orgasm or four, depending on how the night goes. A good time before we go our separate ways, and absolutely nothing deep and meaningful. But for whatever reason, I’m really fucking curious about Emerson Hartwell.
I just want to know something about her. The name of a childhood pet. Her Mount Rushmore of hockey players. If she’s an early bird or night owl. Fucking anything. I’m willing to bet she doesn’t give out personal information willingly, and, just like with her smiles, I’m fucking greedy for more.
“You’ve got a lot of bark behind your bite, Hartwell. I can’t wait to see you take it out on the puck.”
“I’m just looking for an owner I guess.” “Maybe someone should take you back to the pound.”
“Anyway. Once you hear the same thing so many times, you start to think it’s true.”
“Stop wanting to know things about me,” I say smugly. “I’m going to think you like me, Red.”
“You could stand closer to me, if you want.”
“Too tall?” I wrinkle my nose. “Is there such a thing as too tall? I love tall women.” “I’m definitely going to put on flats then.” “Stop.” I touch her elbow then pull back when I realize what I’m doing. “Sorry. I’m not a judge on Project Runway, so my opinion on fashion has little merit, but I like the heels. And if you like them too, who cares what anyone else thinks?”
“Well, well, well. Are you reading up on me, Hartwell? Writing my name in your diary?”
“Atta girl,” I say, and the pink on her skin changes to crimson as it moves down her neck.
I don’t like that he’s making her laugh. I don’t like that she thinks he’s funny, and I liked it better when it was just the two of us.
“Hey, Red,” I say, making sure to keep my voice soft enough so the reporters can’t pick up on it. “If you need a break, tap your nose and I’ll start talking about tiny dicks or something.”
These reporters are pissing me off. We’ve been here for an hour, and they won’t give Hartwell a second to breathe.
“Hold up,” I say, and every head in the room turns to look at me. I crack open the water bottle that’s sitting in front of Emerson and shove it toward her. “We’re not going to do that.”
“Throw in the for a female athlete one-liner. You’ve been around since I was a rookie, Buttecker, and I’ve never heard you tell me my stats were good for a male athlete. If you’re going to cover us this season, you’re going to recognize Hartwell is an NHL player. Full stop.”
“I don’t. Can I use yours?” I ask. “I’ll put pretty boy right over my heart.” “You never stop, do you?” “Nope. Twenty-four-seven job, Red. But at least I made you smile again.” “You did not make me smile.” Emerson flips to the next page and signs two more times. “You’re imagining things.” “Is that why you’re biting your bottom lip?” “I’m biting my bottom lip so I don’t snap at you.” “It’s okay if you don’t want to admit it. We can pretend you’re smiling for the camera. Look. There’s one over there.” I wave and grin at the long lens pointed at us. “Say hi.” “You’re exhausting.”
“Not you.” Emerson stands up and nods at Coach, shaking his hand as they pose for a set of photos I know are going to be on the front page of every sports website tomorrow morning. “We aren’t friends, remember?”
“My tongue is exactly where it belongs, fuck you very much.”
“I heard what you almost told her about the puzzles. You never go there with anyone.”
