Page 16
Arden
Big NYE dub for the boys.
Another typical loss for me.
Not that I actually expected anything different.
I’m not the social princess that my wombmate is.
I don’t rent out a downtown lounge for two hundred of my closest SnapWhore followers to listen to Cooper Copeland play songs I’ve handpicked or rent a superyacht off the coast of South Haven for seventy of my closest IG clones to play strip disco with Olympians that used to row or play Rugby or whatever sport is dubbed “it” for the season by the trendsetters.
Bringing in a New Year’s Day birthday with a big NYE bash isn’t my style.
Even when we were kids.
She’d basically host a miniature version of the party our parents were throwing for all the kids of the socialites who were there while I basically did what I’m currently doing, which is shoveling chocolate mousse into my mouth, ignoring the faint ringing from my tinnitus, and watching a King Arthur adaptation.
As an adult, I’ve grown quite addicted to the Legend of the Sword.
I mean…come on.
It’s Charlie fucking Hunnam.
Who doesn’t love a gorgeous blond accented man?!
Discontentment that I can’t be with mine tonight due to the team’s rooftop bash the boys are expected to attend pushes to me stuff another bite inside to assist in keeping the emotion buried deep down.
Deep, deep down.
Like it’s not as though it’s not currently buried.
It’s just not, not buried.
Bear flops his face onto my thigh and releases a giant huff of unhappiness.
“Look, bud, I know,” I grumble around the spoon in my mouth, “but there’s not shit I can do about the fireworks.”
He snuffs again to clarify his point.
“Or about Tanner not texting because he has to party it up on some downtown rooftop with skate sluts…” aggressively stabbing the spoon into the bowl is mindlessly done, “that probably have their tits hanging out,” I jab at the treat a second time, “and are offering to give him a blowie in the back,” another violent poke is delivered, “or let him London Bridge them in their room or limo or back alley…”
Fuckme, I hate this whole no fraternization shit.
I get it.
Boys in the past have fucked up.
Scandals the team didn’t need.
Scandals the team couldn’t afford.
Scandals the league shouldn’t have had to bury.
But what’s the big fucking deal when it’s not just a fling?
When the player and the PR broadskie are…more than that?
I’m not saying we’re in love, but I’m not, not saying it, either.
Fuck, what am I saying?
The mouthful I’ve been carving finally soars towards my lips only to abruptly be halted midflight courtesy of the doorbell.
Huh.
Who the hell could that be?
Bear’s immediate leap off the couch along with barking leads to me scrambling in that direction and following behind him to see who the visitor is.
Because it’s not an attacker.
Attackers don’t ring the doorbell.
Not unless you’re in that one movie with the mask people.
Can’t quite remember it.
Horror movies were Layvon’s thing, not mine.
But…now that I’m looking back… dating him …was kind of like living in a low budget horror movie.
Peeking through the peephole reveals to me a sight that instantly has me commanding, “ Banco. ”
Bear ceases barking, parks his ass on the floor, and sets his large paws in front of him, maintaining a just in case defensive stance.
I open the door to Joey Alexeyev, Cap’s light café brown skinned, curvy, curly haired, pregnant wife, only for her to instantaneously say, “I have to pee.”
It’s impossible not to snicker at the announcement, “Did you drive all the way over here just to see my bathroom?”
Her freckled covered nose scrunches in amusement. “I actually drove all the way out here to do my job but forgot to pee before I left downtown, which was a terrible mistake, and then got stuck in Santa must’ve crashed his sleigh traffic, which then only made having to pee so much worse, and then I took like four detour turns because people around here are just begging for a spot on next year’s naughty list, which brings me back to my blunt – albeit even rude – greeting.” She shoves the bag in her possession towards me. “Bathroom?”
The object is transferred into my possession as I usher her into the house. “This hall, first door on the left.”
Joey squeaks her thanks and scurries off to do what I’ve learned pregnant women do all the time, especially when they’re this close to popping.
Pee.
Curiosity cross-checks me right in the face to check out the bag’s contents but considering that she said it was job related stops me from actually exploring.
She used to be a nanny – one of the best according to the Slayers – and now does something with early childhood education.
What exactly?
Don’t know.
Don’t understand.
Don’t have to understand because I don’t have kids.
Or nieces.
Or nephews.
An unexpected puck-sized uncertainty plummets into the pit of my stomach.
Do I even want kids some day?
Do I have to know that now?
Is there something wrong with not wanting them?
Is there something wrong with not having even considered the notion prior to this moment?
Shit.
Is this something Tanner and I should’ve talked about?!
I mean…yeah no.
I’m on birth control.
I’ve clearly got a plan in place at the moment to help faceoff against unplanned preggers but like in the long run of shit…I don’t know.
And I don’t know how he feels.
And I don’t know if I’m supposed to know either.
Maybe I should make it a random question for this docu?
Be sneaky about getting the info instead of an awkward convo that will undoubtedly ruin whatever wings or crockpot concoction he’s whipped up.
Although, he used the new cookware set I got him for Christmas to make us grilled chicken pesto pasta salad, and I gotta give him the dub.
That shit was probably better than anything we’ve had out of the cauldron – minus his father’s chicken tortilla soup.
It’s embarrassing how much I’ve bragged about that shit.
Joey joyfully pops out of the bathroom the same way she popped into it yet frowns when she spots me and Bear simply waiting for her. “Why aren’t you changing?”
“What?”
“The drive back into downtown Dalvegan is gonna be such a bitch that we don’t really have time to waste.”
“Why would I be going back into downtown?”
“For the event.”
“What event?”
“The roped off rooftop one for the team.”
“Yeah, I’m not needed for that.” I struggle to keep my tone from displaying disappointment. “It’s like the one day of the year the Slayers are responsible for all soc’ shit.”
“Right. And as a Slayer – particularly one that’s in town – you should be present, hence why I’m here bringing you that and transporting you there .”
Panic swiftly pierces my expression. “I’m not-”
“Don’t.” Joey holds up a very firm finger in front of her. “Use your truth words or no words.”
Furrowing my brow mindlessly occurs.
“Truth is tied to trust, and if you can’t tell the truth, you can’t be trusted, and if you can’t be trusted, you can’t be part of this family. And I don’t mean the one with the boys, I mean the one that consists of those of us that are there for them.”
“The Slayers…”
“Exactly. And it’s my job, as Cap’s wife, as ‘head Slayer’ – a term I don’t even really like – is to provide the assist for all of you and do what I can to make it easier for you all to be there for them, which sometimes means arranging events like the fighting cancer beaded bracelet giveaway for the foundation – I know you were the one who made Snowman’s – and the Christmas cookie decorating thing we did with the hatchlings – I know he brought you home the one that Bella made with his number on it – and outings like tonight’s NYE rooftop celebration – which is becoming the new standard tradition so you better just mark your calendar for next year now.”
She really is a remarkable woman.
From organizing family events to charity events to simply providing advice when others would simply let you take the hit, Cap’s woman is top cheddar.
Even if I’m not in a position to openly appreciate it.
“Joey-”
“I’m aware of the no fraternization policy; however, I’m also very aware , you and Snowman are very together and as much as it upsets my growly husband, it upsets him more to see his second in command sulking.”
I loathe the girly tone that taints my voice. “He’s sulking?”
“He keeps sulking.” The corners of her lips curl slightly upward. “And he thinks no one notices, but we do. Anytime the Slayers are around the boys, he always gets the same look in his eyes. He wishes you could be there for him like that instead of for work like you are.”
“You…” my teeth steal a tiny bite of my bottom lip, “can…see that?”
“We can all see it,” she giggles on a shake of her head. “And we all agree to not say anything to the GM. ”
“And if she asks?”
“Truth words or no words, remember?” An impish smirk slides into place. “I’ll choose no words.”
“And the others?”
“Sameskies.” Disbelief and elation brawl for the rightful position in my stare but are both banished to the box by her harsh scowl, “Now hustle, Hoss. I wasn’t kidding about traffic. It’s like The Nightmare Before New Year out there.”
Post ushering Joey to the couch to wait for my speedy transformation, I make sure to do exactly that.
Swapping out of my comfortable hoodie for a tight, short, bright green, sequins jersey dress with side pockets and Tanner’s name as well as number on the back doesn’t take long.
Getting into the black high top tennis shoes – that are surprisingly the right size – is also done swiftly.
Fuck, even dabbling on just enough makeup to look “Slayer appropriate” is done in record timing.
But deciding what to do with my hair?
My fucking hair?!
Of all things that I normally give little to no high fucks about…?
That becomes the real Nightmare Before New Year no one needs.
And having a pair of his miniature warrior figurines judging alongside a mohawk bearing rubber duck from the bathroom counter while I panic only somehow adds more stress.
Rushing out of my bedroom with my brush prepared for battle puts me face to face with a view so adorable, I wish it was one I could post for the night instead.
The tiny bowl of mousse is balanced on top of her very round stomach while she shovels away the contents, I was clearly done eating. Bear releases a huff from my side to announce our presence yet the mama Slayer to be simply, scoops up another bite, and informs, “Low pony, I’ve got the right shade of ribbon in the car.”
Wellfuckme.
Does being head Slayer give you magical mindreading powers?!
“Unlike The Princess Switch we were not about to give last year’s bowpocalypse a sequel.”
I remember that shit.
I had never seen so many grown ass women get into a bitch fest about hair wear.
Thankfully, the two biggest pains got traded making them someone else’s seasonal headache.
And now that I think about it…they probably would’ve been the two that wouldn’t want me around.
They would’ve been the ones to snitch.
Afterall, I don’t “fit” the narrative.
Which is why they gave Joey herself so much hell last season.
She’s different.
Unremarkable.
But different than what they were used to or more accurately wanted to be around.
Led by.
Our journey from my place to The Frost Luxury Hotel is agonizingly long.
Not because I can’t stand Joey or her dedication to the Christmas season no matter what month it is but because of the anxiousness.
Anticipation.
This will be my first event as an official Slayer.
Basically, my hockey coronation.
The irony of course being that was one of the words on his crossword puzzle this week.
What if Joey’s wrong?
What if he doesn’t want me there like that?
What if he just wanted to toss back a few brewskies with the boys, and I don’t know…celly with just them?
What if he wanted to flirt with random puck pussy to keep those skills sharp for when we eventually split?
Not that I want us to split or think about the day he’ll come to his senses and realize we should.
That I’m not the soc’ trending material he needs me to be.
Of course, I don’t stay up at night and think about that after he’s snuck back into his hotel room when we’re on the roadskies.
I just…don’t not stay up and think about it.
Getting her car valeted, us through the impressively tight security, and into the actual sea of bodies swaying around in the frigid temperatures puts us much closer to the midnight countdown than I assume she or Cap predicted given the nervous, crowd scouting nature we can see from afar.
Beside him on the couch, under the white tent and draped lighting, is the man who won first star of the game for the night thanks to his two points, two assists, and impeccable aid in blocking a shot we all swore was going in, showing off a half-hearted grin between sips of his beer.
Other players are all over their Slayers.
Kissing.
Groping.
Some totally unfranchised approved concoction of the two.
Photos are snapped left and right yet each one he leans out of.
Almost like he doesn’t want to remember being “single”.
Like he doesn’t want to make any sort of headline about being “alone”.
Over the past couple of months, when the press does report about him, it’s been more stats and game related – with a few exceptions.
I guess it helps that most of our dates are behind closed doors or doing random shit he would never be recognized doing such as attending a cycle ball match.
Yeah.
That’s a really random sport and no matter how much he begs I’m not on board with us joining a recreational team over the summer.
We continue to close the gap as other females not permitted in the section desperately vie for the boys’ attention, something Wahl, Potato, and Payne – who had to be called up due to Peck’s injury – can’t seem to get enough of.
The instant Cap spots Joey, he springs to his feet on a grumbled, “ Okonchatel’no. ”
“Don’t say finally,” she lovingly sasses while making her way around the barricade. “I wasn’t gone that long.”
“ Da. ” The grin he cocks is almost boyish. “ Navsegda. ”
“Forever. Really?” Her girly giggles ignite my own. “You sound like our little printsessa …”
Cap’s giant frame blocks me from Tanner’s vision but doesn’t shield me from the brunette thirst trap trying to weasel her way into his space. “You should have someone to kiss at midnight, dontcha think?”
He casually leans towards her, light tan sweater covered forearms resting on his light gray pants. “I agree.”
Dread darts down to my stomach like a pissed off ref dropping the puck.
“And I do have someone . ”
Relief wins the faceoff.
“I simply have to wait until I arrive home to receive my midnight kiss post -midnight.”
“Or…” sliding slightly over to be seen summons his stare, “maybe you don’t.”
Tanner’s jaw instantly drops in tandem with his whole body damn near melting to his knees.
“ Surprise! ” Joey gleefully interjects at the same time she curls into Cap’s hold. “Your Slayer has arrived.”
Alarm should overwhelm his expression.
Worry.
Dismay.
Something… anything… in that category should be free skating, yet all that can be seen is gratitude.
Pure.
Unadulterated.
Gratitude.
Tanner shifts his stare over to Cap who merely extends his balled fist and grunts, “ Ferda. ”
Respect swiftly joins the graciousness as he taps back. “ Ferda. ”
Guess Joey is just like Cap.
Always willing to do what’s best for the boys, no matter the cost.
Without another glance to the displeased groupie, Tanner slides past the Alexeyevs to properly greet me.
His brewskie free hand winds around the nape of my neck.
Yanks me forward so that our open mouths can collide.
Rolls his tongue around and around and around until I can’t determine if the buzz, I’m starting to get is from him or the booze.
Then – and only then – does he pull back and gently rest his forehead against mine, “ You’re such a fucking beauty in my number, Ducky. ”
“You were such a fucking beauty in the barn tonight, Hamster Boy.” I give the edge of his sweater a small tug. “Totally earned those stats.”
“I appreciate that.” He delivers a loving stroke with his thumb. “And I appreciate even more that you put a bloody ribbon in your hair for me.”
“This is so goddamn girly.” Giggles are accompanied by me leaning backwards to point at the foreign object. “This shit had me thinking twice about being a Slayer.”
“Seriously?” Chortles shake his entire frame. “A hair accessory is all it takes for you to reconsider our relationship?”
“A sparkly hair accessory,” I sassily correct and snake his brew into my possession. “It’s a sacrifice that’s almost too big to make.”
“Noted for future contract negotiations.” Additional laughter leaves us both prior to me having a sip of his beverage. “Want me to grab you something from the bar?”
“Nah…” Another gulp is taken. “Yours’ll do.”
“Of course it will,” leaves him in a chuckle form. “Want to dance with me while we wait for the countdown?”
“Think we could get the DJ to play Shakira?”
“You mean the woman I got you concert tickets for as birthday gift?” Tanner slips his fingers between mine. “Likely.”
“You got me concert tickets to see Shakira?!”
“In Doctenn. ” he informs during his leading us away from the roped section.
“In another fucking country?!”
“Post-season.” Tanner tugs me a bit closer. “I thought we could turn it into a romantic getaway.” Our eyes briefly meet, allowing him to see the depth of awe pumping through me. “I could show you where I often spent my summers. Where my father grew up. Introduce you to gran – the spry old beaut that she is. And of course, take you to the pub that has the best pepperoncini wings on the entire planet.”
“That shouldn’t even be a wing flavor.”
“ Proof you’ve never had them.”
Giggling on another sip is all that I’m capable of.
“I would have waited to show you all the booking information until tomorrow – your actual birthday – but you just had to go and bring her up today.”
It’s impossible not to let my head fall back on another giggle, “Oh, okay. So, this is my fault.”
“ Clearly. ” More mirth meanders through his expression. “You’re the one who can’t go twenty-four hours without mentioning the bloody broadskie.”
“Says the bro who is probably single handedly responsible for keeping Sean Connery’s memory alive.”
“He was fucking brilliant in everything!”
We warmly laugh and scoot in tighter together while working our way to the opposite side of the room where the DJ – that Joey apparently hired on behalf of the team – is open to suggestions from those footing the bill.
Once our Shakira request is in, Tanner and I fade into the crowd just enough to hide from the paparazzi amount of photos the Slayers and random other party guests are taking of the event.
My brewskie free hand drapes around his neck while I let my hips rock to the rhythm with his.
Brush.
Grind.
Wind in small circles to the easy-to-follow beat.
We grin, share sips of his drink, sneak small kisses, and sing along to familiar tunes.
For what feels like hours – despite knowing it’s only minutes – I openly allow myself to do everything it means to be a Slayer.
To be “one of the girls” instead of “one of the boys”.
I dramatically whip my hair around and strike goofy dramatic poses.
Theatrically bat my eyelashes just to get him grinning.
Continuously turn chaste kisses into more lascivious ones that are deeper.
And longer.
And attached to ass grabs from him as well as me.
I eagerly enjoy his embrace, grateful for the opportunity to do it in public without care or concern who may be watching or clicking.
When “Girl Like Me” comes on, it’s impossible to dial back my elation or enthusiasm.
Switching positions so that Tanner’s behind me while I wiggle my hips and pop my ass on the beats presents him with views he struggles to resist. The sight of seeing his name and number and me wearing it with pride has him grinding against me harder.
Panting near my collarbone.
Gripping my inner thigh and possessively growling.
“ GreatEight, I can’t wait to get you home, Slayer …” Nips at my neck convince me to let my head loll back onto his shoulder, hips still rolling. “ Start the new year with you… ” A strong bite of my earlobe has me whimpering. “ Inside of you… ”
All of a sudden, the music cuts out and counting begins, yet rather than joining them, Tanner swiftly smashes his mouth against mine, forgoing the tradition of waiting for the clock to strike midnight. Our tongues frantically tangle, growing wilder on every lash, faster on every whip, overindulging so recklessly that we easily kiss past the moment of time change and well into my birthday.
My birthday, which is now the first one I’m cellying with another person in years.
And what I’m hoping won’t be the last one I celly with the dude I’ve definitely fallen for.