Page 93 of Only for Tonight
“Here, wear this,” he urges as he stands there in a T-shirt. “I have another one hanging under the jersey.”
“So why don’t I wear that one?” I ask him, grabbing his sweater for me.
“Because you’re going to smell like me so people will know you’re mine,” he explains, moving the jersey and snatching a team sweater from the hook.
“I can’t even argue with that logic,” I reply, putting the sweater on and it falls to the middle of my thighs. “This thing is huge; I can’t skate like this.”
He comes to me and folds the shirt up and tucks it into the front of my jeans, and then rolls up the sleeves. “Just as good,” he comments as he takes his seat again and puts on his other skate. I manage to put the jersey on and I feel like an Oompa Loompa as we walk out toward the ice.
“When was the last time you skated?” he asks me when we get behind the bench. I see kids on the ice, most of the little boys with hockey sticks in their hands, and I smile while I see some of the girls with sticks also.
“Last year, I went to the Dallas family skate when I was home for Christmas,” I tell him, smiling as he puts one skate on the ice and then the other, turning and holding out his hand for me.
I follow his lead, getting on the ice and skating beside him. “What are you smiling at?” He looks over at me.
“I was thinking of all the times we did this when we were young,” I admit to him. “I loved family skate day.”
“Me too. I mean, I did because I got to skate with the big boys.” He laughs. “I thought it was so cool.”
“You were such a showoff,” I goad him. “You would get on the ice without the helmet and in track pants and a sweater”—I laugh—“and you would wear your baseball hat backward and you had the hockey flow.” I can’t help but laugh. “You would skate circles around me?—”
“And then tell you I could teach you,” he cuts in, laughing. “What a dick.”
“I know,” I agree as we skate around a couple of kids and then he stops. “Look at us now.”
“Who would have thought?” I look up at him as he pulls me to him and bends to kiss my lips. “Not me, that’s for sure.”
“I don’t know,” he says, “I’d like to think we would have somehow ended up together.” I roll my eyes. “What?”
“I wasn’t even on your radar the night we hooked up.”
“Baby, you with that dress, those shoes, and those legs. You basically walked in with a bull’s-eye on you.”
I’m about to argue with him when the guy comes over with a camera. “Can we get a picture?”
“Yeah,” he says to the guy, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me to him, “and can you send it to me?”
“Sure thing, Jaxon.” He nods at him as he skates away.
“You ready to get off?” he asks me as we skate around a couple more times.
“Yeah.” I go to the bench and then see a couple of the women there.
There are about six women all huddled together talking, one of them telling a story as I smile at them and they smile back, but you can see they aren’t sure about me. I know right away these are the wives or girlfriends with kids.
From as far back as I can remember there were always two kinds of cliques, sometimes even three, the mother club, the single girls club, and of course it’s not complete without the bitch club. Those are usually the girlfriends or wives of the players who think they are so much better than all of the other ones.
I look down at our hands as we step back into the locker room and head back to where he sits. He sits beside me as I lean over to untie my skates. I put on my sneakers and then take off the jersey and then his sweater before putting my jacket back on. “Hey, you two.” I look over and see Kirby coming toward us, a woman trailing him. I get a look at her before she sees me.
Her blonde hair is perfectly curled and styled, with heavy makeup on, and she’s wearing a pair of leather pants, a tight bodysuit, and has a black jacket. High-heel booties are on her feet and a brand-new Chanel dangling from her hand. “I was hoping to see you guys. We were just going to eat and thought you guys might want to join us,” he says. “Angela.” He pulls her hand and she looks at Jaxon with a weird look on her face—it’s definitely not friendly—before she turns the look to me and I see it’s definitely not friendly, even though she pretends to smile. “This is Ariella.”
I put on the same smile she is giving me as I reach out my hand to shake hers, wondering if she’s going to show her true bitchiness in front of the guys. “It’s nice to meet you, Angela.”
“Hmm,” she replies, “the pleasure is mine.” I can’t help but smile ear to ear and make sure she sees that she doesn’t get to me.
“We’re going to head into the food hall,” Kirby mentions. “We’ll save you a seat.”
“Cool.” Jaxon takes off his own skates and is oblivious to what is going on.
