Page 57 of Until We Burn
Kai tucks a stray curl behind my ear. Something unreadable dons in his eyes as he looks down at me. “Friends?”
With a fake smile, I fight the sadness that arises with the words. “Friends.”
Kai kisses me slowly. I revel in it, giving into the defiance that consumes me.
From being placed side by side in Mellonbaum’s class to having sex in front of a fireplace, my mind is struggling to trace the path of how we got here. But I know one thing for sure.
There’s no turning back.
PART 2: BURNING & BLAZING
CHAPTER 26
KAI
There arethree rules Diana and I had established to keep our friends-with-benefits arrangement uncomplicated.
Rule #1: We only have sex for stress relief.
Rule #2: Leave hickeys in places that can’t be seen.
Rule #3: No one knows about this except the people we trust.
That’s why Diana and I try to avoid eye contact at the annual Little Griffins Hockey Club fundraiser.
Laughter fills the air as families eat at the picnic tables. Their paper plates are greased with burgers and hot dogs from the grills that smoke up the autumn air. The cold rain from the last few days held back just enough for the sun to bask over the fields in front of the DHU Athletics building. The obstacle course for the giant Chuck-A-Puck game takes up one side of the field, while half of the parking lot is transformed into a car wash run by some of the Griffins.
Soap-suds run down my arm as I scrub down a black G-Wagon. I try to avoid splashing the Howler reporters walking by.
“Why does our equipment smell like sunscreen?”
“Because Mark got his grubby melanoma-fearing hands all over it.”
They set up their equipment nearby to capture footage of the fundraiser for their newscast. Diana stands by, guiding them andanswering their questions with that focused, determined look in her eyes.
She takes in the sun, looking so gorgeous, I’d listen to every word she said, too. The wind drifts through the soft black waves falling over her shoulders. But she still looks pristine and sophisticated in her mini brown dress and matching heels. Diana reaches over to fix the body mic on Rowan’s shirt. The fabric of her dress catches onto her media pass, crooking it at an awkward angle.
I cough. Diana looks up as she steps away from Rowan. I subtly nod at her before tugging at my shirt. Diana cocks her head, her hands rising to her neckline. Then she notices the lanyard hook clinging to the fabric. She quickly unhitches it before smiling at me in thanks. I wink back at her. Diana’s cheeks flush before her attention darts back to Rowan’s interview.
“In your own words, can you tell us why the fundraiser is so important for the Little Griffins Hockey Club?” the reporter asks.
Rowan rakes his hand through his hair and slings his baseball cap over his head.
“Well, hockey is an expensive sport,” Rowan answers. His words are confident and undaunted as Captain of the DHU Griffins. “That’s why it’s important to raise as much money as we can today. It’s the best way to make sure the club can keep supplying the kids with fresh skates and gear without their parents worrying about paying a cent.”
Cheers erupt from the other side of the field.
I turn around and see Luke and Wallace hosting another round of Chuck-A-Puck. Wallace is fiddling with the starting pistol while Luke commands both spectators and competitors with his megaphone.
“Alright, guys, this is it!” Luke bellows. He strides across the field that’s lined up with eager little kids. “This is your chance to win pucks signed by Anthony Benigno, Sam Muir, and Roger Hamilton from the Vancouver Phoenix. Whoever throws their puck into the net first is the winner! Are you ready?”
Hollers erupt in the air.
“The game starts in three. . .two. . .one!”
Wallace fires off the pistol.
The players speed across the bright obstacle course with a plastichockey puck swinging around their necks. I watch as they bop across the grass on neon hopper balls, crawl through the ring tunnels, scamper up the rungs on the inflatable castle, and glide down the slides to throw their pucks into the hockey net guarded by our goalie, Marcus.
