Page 22 of Your Biggest Downfall
“Later, Nova.”
Somehow I walked carefully out of his room, trying not to be too obvious that I was squeezing my thighs together as I shut thedoor behind me. I swear I could hear him laughing. That fucking asshole.
“Babe, I’m so sore,” Luna sighed as she adjusted the towel on her head.
We were back at our apartment, lounging the rest of the day until I went to visit Mami and Aunt Mae.
“I fucking bet. I have no idea how you...” Luna started to laugh as I trailed off.
“No.” She suppressed her giggles. “What I can’t believe is that you looked at me and were so disgusted you turned around and puked on fucking Austin Hart.”
I playfully jabbed her in the shoulder. “He’s not like that. He’s actually really?—”
“Do not finish that sentence with nice.”
“Agh. Stop. He is nice, and he’s on the freaking Ravens, and last night was amazing, but we’re colleagues at work essentially. Hell, I’m just the fucking social media intern.”
“Uh, sorry. No.” Luna sat up straighter, grabbed my shoulders, and forced me to look at her. “You are notjustthe intern who does social media. You make his freaking career. How many endorsements did he get last year because you boosted him up on socials? How many times did your thirst traps go viral, and now how many more females are attending the Ravens games because they wanna see hot hockey players do push-ups on the ice?”
I laughed. “They aren’t push-ups.” I sighed, then fell back onto the couch, pulling the belt of my robe a little tighter.
She had a valid point. But it didn’t change the fact that we were just two people who worked at the same place.
Before all of this, Austin and I were friends. We’d planned Ledger’s retirement party together, laughed over stupid shit I’d make him video, and bonded over the fact we were both young and new. He sat with me willingly during any interview and even convinced the guys to do them without too much of a hassle. I enjoyed being with him, feeling a connection that went beyond work. But then my mom’s diagnosis came, and everything changed. He got weird, distant this season, and it never felt the same.
Last night, though, somehow brought it all back. The friendship we once shared, the comfort of his presence, and the laughter that seemed to flow so naturally between us. It reminded me of how he used to make me feel seen, understood. The way his eyes lit up when he felt heard in my secrets. And, yes, there was an undeniable attraction that made my heart race and my panties wet.
But life was still tangled and messy. My mom’s illness had overshadowed everything. And Austin... Austin had to remain a friend. He had the Stanley Cup to focus on and his career. I couldn’t be the one to pull him down. I had my career on the line too. I wanted to advance to something other than just an intern.
“I get what you’re saying and all, but I promise, Luna, we’re just friends.”
“Psh...” She grabbed the television remote and put on one of the latest episodes ofHousewives.
“Friends,” she repeated softly. “Okay, sit in front of me so I can braid your hair.”
I pulled off my towel and sat on the ground in front of her. Naturally, my hair was quite curly—it was the Puerto Rican in me—but I liked to contain the curls, so braiding it was the best option.
“Are you going to tell me what it’s like with four guys devouring you, or am I going to pretend like I’m interested in Teresa’s new drama?”
Luna barked out a laugh. “Alright, nosy. Well first, it’s nothing to be puking about?—”
“Luna,” I groaned. “Stop.”
We both broke out in a fit of giggles.
“For real, it feels like . . .”
As she searched for the right word, I remembered what Austin and I had talked about. Although some details were a little fuzzy, going out felt good—last night felt fucking good.
An escape from the otherwise hellish reality of my everyday life felt amazing. Maybe Austin was on to something, because I would give anything to chase this feeling again.
10
austin
Seconds remained in the third period. The score was tied, but their offense was relentless, pressing us hard. This game was crucial; we needed a win to stay in the Conference and keep our dreams of the Cup alive. The tension was palpable as the right winger from the Dallas Loves team sped down the right side, checking Jeremy into the boards and pushing the puck toward our goalie, Dirks.
Dirks made a stellar save, deflecting the puck back to the corner. But the danger was far from over. The other team skillfully worked the puck in a triangle, setting up another attack. Desperate to prevent them from advancing, I lunged forward, trying to intercept their passes. I stretched out my stick, attempting to disrupt their rhythm, but they were dancing on the ice, weaving around my efforts with precision and speed. Jeremy recovered and tried to cut them off, but it appeared they were reversing the puck, passing it back and forth until they fit their strategy perfectly.
