Page 50 of Played
Why yes, I am making excuses. Again. So?
“I’m teasing you. But y’know, it is okay if you like him,” Noni says, her voice gentle. Too gentle.
I glance away from her, pretending to survey the crowds continually streaming into the arena, rapidly filling the seats. A couple of women claim the seats to the left of me, and I politely smile at them. The pretty brunette with golden brown eyes returns my smile, giving me a small wave. I wave back.
“You get to have fun, to live, Dina,” Noni continues. “And there shouldn’t be any guilt attached to it.”
“I know,” I murmur. And Ido. But acknowledging something didn’t stop the fear from crawling in. “He scares me,” I admit to my best friend on a near whisper.
A frown immediately appears on her face. “Why? Has he done some—?”
“No, no, nothing like that. His mouth is reckless as fuck, and I can’t lie, he has hurt my feelings a time or two. But he’s not cruel. Not intentionally.” I shake my head, hard. “I’m scared because he can fuck my world up. And I’m not talking about sex. Well, notjustabout sex.” I huff out a breath, and despite the concern shadowing Noni’s gaze, her mouth twitches with a smile. “I mean everything else. I don’t know if I can fuck him and turn off my emotions like a faucet. You know me better than anyone—I’ve never been one for one-night stands or situationships. And Solomon ...” Without my express permission, my eyes look toward the ice, as if seeking his big, solid form. “Solomon still mourns his wife. Is still very much in love with her. I can’t ...”
I can’t play second to anything or anyone again. Not even to a ghost.
I don’t need to voice those words, because they ring in my head like a struck bell, loud as hell. As much as I loved Keshaun—and God knows, I did—I understood where his priorities lay. Firefighting. His career. Advancement. And I supported him and his aspirations because they were mine too. Still ... no one likes to feel like they’re ... forgettable.
“Oh, friend.” She reaches out, covering my hand with hers and squeezing. “You’re one of the best people I know, and you deserve to be put on a pedestal and worshipped.” I roll my eyes and start to sputter a denial, but she squeezes my hand again. Firmer. “I’m serious. Dead ass. Hell, look at your job, Dina. You sacrifice, putting your life on the line every day for others. You’re a fucking real-life heroine and deserve someone to go just as hard for you. It’s not too much to expect or demand.”
She exhales a breath and leans closer to me so I can’t avoid looking into her brown eyes even if I wanted to. And a part of me really wants to.
“You lost a good friend, a good man. Someone you loved. Maybe someone you would’ve ended up spending the rest of your life with.”
I frown.Maybe someone... What did she mean by that? Keshaun was my fiancé.Of courseI would’ve spent the rest of my life with him.
“Maybe you’re not ready to jump back in to another relationship, and that’s fine,” she continues. “That’s your choice. But Dina, all you’veknown is Keshaun. It’s been him and becoming a firefighter, and the two were so tangled together, I don’t know if you can separate on from the other. You need time to sit in and discover who you are apart from him. Apart from being a firefighter. You just need tobe. To have fun. To relax. To fuckinglive. What do you do when you’re not at work? Sit your ass down on that couch and binge the latest season ofLove Is Blindor whatever the newest trash TV show is on Netflix. Aht.” She holds up a hand, forestalling my objection. “Bitch, please. It’s trash, I don’t even wanna hear it. But my point is”—her voice softens—“enjoy this.” She waves a hand, encompassing the stands, the rink. “Enjoyhim. You already know Solomon’s not emotionally available. Repeat that shit, and write it down one hundred times if you need to remind yourself of it. Because this could be a blessing in disguise. That man looks like he can fuck you into astral projection, then tear both you and your soul up in a dirty-ass threesome. And I say, let him. For the first time since Keshaun, you’re attracted to someone, and if he reciprocates, do it. Just have fun and get the dick as long as it lasts, and then walk away without looking back, thankful for the experience. And then you move on and find that person who is for you, who will treat you like the queen you are. Or you don’t and treat yourself like the queen you are. Shit, do both.”
I lower my gaze to my lap and blindly stare at the faded denim hugging my thighs. Noni’s words resonate inside me like a word spoken from a Sunday pulpit. They’re taking root inside me; doesn’t matter that I wish they didn’t. That I could reach inside my chest and rip them out. But I can’t. No—I won’t. Because in a way, my best friend just gave me permission to do what my body has been aching for from the moment I laid eyes on Solomon’s mean ass in the Pirates’ corporate office.
Can I just take from him what I need, what I crave? Get all the pleasure and none of the pain? Noni seems to believe I’m capable of it, that I’m strong enough to do it.
She has more faith in me than I do.
Sighing, I turn in my seat to fully face the rink. This subject is too heavy for a hockey game. I don’t want to think right now. As Noni urged me to, I just want to enjoy.
At that moment, the loud rhythmic cadence of drums fills the arena, and I’m reminded of a college drum line. Next to me, our conversation apparently shelved and put aside, Noni lifts her arms in the air, her body twisting and gyrating to the beat. If she stood from her seat, I have zero doubt she would be bent over, shaking her ass like she was up in the club, not a stadium.
“Ay!” She grins at me, her hips winding in the chair. “They got a whole marching band up in here! Fuck around and have me high-stepping it out on that ice.”
I laugh at her silly ass, but she’s not wrong. As Lil Nas X’s “Industry Baby” echoes throughout the huge space, I glance up and to the left. It seems like an entire university marching band fills the top of the stands. They’re setting an electric atmosphere, and excitement pumps through my veins, my body moving to the familiar beat as well.
“They’re good, right?” the brunette next to me leans over and asks. Grinning, she nods toward the band. “Every home game this month, we’ve had a different high school band attend and play for the team and fans.”
My eyebrow wings high in surprise. “They’re high school? Wow. They’re amazing!”
She nods. “They really are. Hi, by the way. I’m Patrice Kennedy. My husband is Arthur Kennedy.” That name means nothing to me, but I’m guessing he’s on the team. “And you are? Sorry if I’m being nosy. This is the first time I’ve seen you at a game.”
“That’s because it is my first time at a game.” I smile and shake her hand. “Adina Wright. And this is my friend Monica Crawford. Solomon Young invited us.”
Her eyes widen as her head cocks to the side. “Solomon?” Slowly, a grin spreads across her lovely face. “Interesting.”
Before I can even begin to analyze the meaning of thatinteresting, the arena erupts in deafening cheers, screams, and shouts. The thick walls of the stadium damn near shake with them. A column of blue, green, and white streams out from one end of the rink. People shoot to their feet, the noise ratcheting to an even louder level. Caught up, I stand, too, and along with Noni and Patrice, yell for the Pirates as they take the ice.
Without intentionally doing so, I search out and find Solomon among his teammates. Even among the group of huge men circling the rink, he stands out. And not just because he’s the only Black player. It’s his power, his grace, his presence that separate him from the others.
And when he skates past our section and his gaze lifts and connects with mine, that power seems to slide right into me, pulsing inside my chest. Throbbing in my pussy. With one look, he’s set me on fire, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to twist and shift in my chair, trying to alleviate the ache he stirred.
“Oh, Dina. You in trouble, girl,” Noni says in her best Whoopi Goldberg voice, then snickers.
