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maggie

O ne good thing about a gala, besides the free booze, is an excuse to wear a new outfit.

I’ve always had a mind of my own when it comes to fashion, something else my family and I disagree on.

My ultra conservative parents would prefer me to wear a business-bitch blazer and a skirt or a formal ball gown to events like these.

Rolling my shoulders back, I glance across the space, pride and exhaustion thrumming through me.

That’s not how I roll. I found this dress, a floor-length, red sleeveless gown, that hugs every curve of my body, and fitted with a lace-covered bust, blurring the lines between a dress and lingerie, awhile back and have been dying for a reason to wear it.

And it really shows off the girls. The shock from earlier has limped away, leaving behind anger lit like a stick of dynamite, ready to explode.

My big boob rage is on full display, letting everyone know I’m not here to fuck around.

I’m a curvy girl and proud of it. My tits are my most powerful weapon, and I’m not ashamed to admit it.

I look at Liv, and she’s perfect, so petite and fits in everything.

She has nice curves as well, but our bodies could not be more opposite.

At five-eight, I tower over her tiny five-foot frame.

We aren’t the kind of friends who can swap clothes by any means, but we wouldn’t want to, either.

While Liv is stylish, she’s much more conservative in her fashion.

She doesn’t show much cleavage, whereas I flaunt mine like it’s my damn job.

Maybe it should be.

“Mags! All the graphics you did look amazing,” Liv gushes, gazing around the beautifully decorated venue at the various pieces I created for the event. “I’m trying to find a way to sneak one of those giant bourbon bottle selfie stations home in my car.”

I take a sip of my first bourbon of the night, chuckling at the thought of us trying to sneak those out in our fancy dresses and stilettos.

“Thanks, Liv.” I pull my bestie in for a side hug, always appreciative of her encouragement.

“I don’t know how I’d stay sane without you.

What am I gonna do when you get all ‘hockey wife rich’ and quit this job?

Who am I going to vent to all day while I procrastinate on Chest Bush’s shitty designs? ”

As I step away, she rolls her eyes. “I think we have some time before that happens, Maggie. Hayes and I have barely started a committed relationship. I don’t think I’ll be quitting anytime soon.”

“Famous last words,” I sing-song, gesturing to the entrance of the art museum. “Your boyfriend and his posse are walking in the door as we speak. I give it six months tops before that man puts a ring on it and you’re spitting out kids like a Pez dispenser.”

“Maggie! Oh my God. Rein it in ,” she hisses, a flush of embarrassment on her cheeks. “But…also…damn, do these players wear the hell out of those tuxes.”

Hayes waltzes directly over to Olivia and immediately wraps her up with a ridiculous amount of PDA. It’s cute. Kinda. I’m very happy for my friend, but also a teeny bit jealous. Okay, a lot jealous. How are they still making out?

A forced cough echoes behind Hayes, and I see one of his teammates using my tried and true ‘fake cough’ technique to break up their little love fest. And just who is the coughing Rider that’s going to be my new best friend?

Holy tits . Vladimir Volkov. The Wolf. The fucking starting goalie.

Dark strands of hair frame his face, a permanent five-o-clock-shadow tracing his chiseled jaw. Damn. Why are goalies so hot?

“Sorry, sorry…got a little carried away.” Hayes laughs, acting like he’s embarrassed, but we all know he’s not.

I can’t hide my smile. He’s so damn smitten with Liv.

“A little carried away?” Jordan Boucher shouts, “I think you need to head to the drug store and buy a pregnancy test after that greeting. We’re all happy for you two, but seriously…get a room.”

Hayes rolls his eyes, quickly dismissing the comment with a smirk. “Everyone, this is Olivia,” he says, introducing his teammates to her, “and this is her best friend Maggie. Ladies, this is Vladi, Bougie, Tay, and EJ.”

We all exchange handshakes and pleasantries, and when the last one in the group comes my way, I extend my hand to him. “I’m Maggie. Nice to meet you.” He takes my hand and shakes it, pulling me toward him the slightest bit, sucking me into his orbit. Whoa. This is an orbit I could totally drown in.

“Vladi. Nice to meet you, Maggie.” His green eyes trail down my face, catching a glimpse of my cleavage as a savage spark lights within them. “I see Olivia keeps good company.”

I can’t help but smile at the power my two not-so-little features afford me some days.

“Seems like Hayes keeps some good company too.” His eyes pop back up to my face, now looking deeper into my eyes.

“And I hope you’re ready to taste some amazing bourbon tonight.

Liv and I worked hard on this campaign for months, and I had a shit day at work,” I say before chugging the last bit of my drink and setting it down on the table, my gaze never leaving his, “so I’m ready to have some fun. ”

The slightest smile cracks his stoic face. “Seems we have that in common.”

I bite my lip, pressing my thighs together.

“The shitty day, I mean.” He turns, barking out a command to his teammate, “Bougie, let’s go bring these beautiful ladies some more drinks.”

“Is this your one favor? Helping you carry some drinks? I really thought you’d save it for something better than me being a waiter!” Bougie snarks.

“No, this is simply a normal punishment for an idiot rookie. Come.”

“Maggie James!” Hayes and Olivia cross over to me while his friends saunter off to the bar, pulling my gaze away from the ass I was secretly salivating over.

“Nice to see you again. Olivia says you designed all these graphics. These are awesome! She said you were creative, but this?” he gestures to the campaign prints around the room, “this is better than half the stuff my sponsors pull together. It’s fantastic. ”

I smile, knowing my bestie brags about me to everyone.

Further proof her and Hayes do come up for air once in awhile.

“Thanks. I love being creative and bringing people’s ideas to life.

This bourbon campaign was a fun one to work on.

Stressful as hell, but fun, and thankfully over.

” I wink at Olivia, knowing she feels the same way.

“You know, a lot of the guys in the league have endorsements. You could make a killing working with them on their branding. Bougie alone has a million ideas he wants to get to market. Some less crass than others.”

“See! I told you, Mags. You could so run your own business,” Liv says as she gently taps me on the arm in encouragement.

I shrug, a smirk creeping up my face. “I know, I know. Maybe someday. I feel like I need to earn my chops a little more before branching out on my own. We’ll see.”

“You never know if you don’t try! Maybe do it on the side until you get some clients built up? Mags, I’m serious, you could totally do this.”

“Maybe, if I drink enough bourbon tonight, I’ll get the courage to tell Bill off and I won’t have a choice but to start my own business after they fire me.

” I sigh with a snarky grin, Liv and I laughing at the ridiculousness our jobs bring us every day.

I glance around the room, seeing everything I worked so hard on for so long.

It looks damn good, if I do say so myself.

With a little liquor in my system, my brain whirls thinking about the compliments they’ve just doled out.

Could I really start my own business? God, I would love to not have to work with people like fucking Bill every day.

I glare at his powder blue tux across the room, shaking my head and refusing to let him steal any more of my joy today.

Tonight’s not the night for that. Tonight, I’m going to get lit, flirt with a hot ass goalie who was so checking me out, and have some fucking fun.