Page 19 of What If I Hate You (Anaheim Stars Hockey #6)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BARRETT
I don’t know what’s worse: that Blakely Rivers is sitting three rows ahead of me on our flight home, or that I can still smell her all over my hands. Every time I flex my fingers, I feel her pulse under my skin, and there’s no goddamn hand sanitizer strong enough to scrub away the memory.
Not that I would use it if there was.
I haven’t washed my hand yet since it was inside her and I don’t intend to until I absolutely have to.
The plane lurches upward, wheels tucking in below us and all I can do is stare at the swirl pattern on the tray table and try not to replay the hallway incident on a loop.
I’ve never been this aware of another human being in my life.
It’s like she’s a bomb in my line of sight, and every breath she takes is one second closer to detonation.
Somewhere behind me, Bodhi snorts and starts arguing with Griffin over whose pretend dog could survive longer in the wild.
The debate gets heated fast, but I tune it out, zeroing in on Rivers pretending to be engrossed in her laptop.
Every so often she glances my way in the reflection of her screen.
It’s not subtle. Nothing about Rivers is.
Even with her hair in a high ponytail and her face mostly hidden by those ridiculous blue-light glasses, she radiates a challenge.
She’s a goddamn riddle, and I’ve never been good at puzzles.
I crack my knuckles, trying to burn off some of the excess energy, and catch her head tilt, just barely.
She’s listening, probably to me, or to the whole goddamn plane, cataloguing every microaggression and snappy comeback for her next segment on why athletes are the most emotionally stunted mammals on the planet.
I want to call her out. I want to walk the three rows up and stage a repeat, drag her into the cramped galley and see if she can keep her poker face when it’s just the two of us, but I know if I make a scene, Marlee or Ella or, God forbid, Coach will have my ass on toast before we even hit cruising altitude.
So instead, I launch a counterattack the only way I know how: I grab my phone, snap open my Notes app, and start writing out scouting reports for the coming series.
I hammer the keys like I’m mad at them, which, let’s be honest, I am.
I’m mad at a lot of things right now, not least the fact that I’ve spent the last six hours hard and restless for a woman who hates me almost as much as I hate myself.
“Why are you being weird?” Harrison asks from the window seat beside me.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Harrison lowers his magazine, cocks an eyebrow, and flicks his eyes toward where Blakely is sitting, lips pinched, the line of her jaw sharp enough to slice a puck in half.
“You look like you’re about to chew through your seatbelt.
Either you shit your pants or that girl’s gotten under your skin so bad you’re sprouting feelings. ”
“Fuck off.” I don’t even bother to whisper. “I’m not sprouting anything.”
He grins. “Man, you are so full of denial it’s a miracle you haven’t floated off this plane. You want to talk about it or are you just going to sit there and brood so hard you give yourself a hernia?”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I mutter, but it’s a lie. If I wasn’t so hung up on the afterimage of Rivers’ eyes going glassy at my hand, I’d probably be able to bullshit him better.
“Uh huh. Okay.” Like it’s a challenge, Harrison whips out his cellphone and sends a message to our team-chat that Griffin has recently named Stars After Dark.
Within seconds, my phone vibrates. I ignore it, but the guys two rows behind me all get the same text and the laughter starts before I can even groan. I hear Bodhi snort again, then Ledger say, “Oh, shit,” and then my device buzzes again, this time with a direct hit.
Harrison
Bear’s in a pissy mood and he can’t keep his eyes off of seat 17C. Something’s up.
Bodhi
[photo of me glaring at the tray table] Dudes he’s in full serial killer mode. Place your bets. Indigestion or boner?
August
Who hurt you, Bear? Was it the hotel eggs or the arena Gatorade?
Ledger
No, it was a woman. I’d bet my left nut.
Griffin
I’ll take that bet. Rivers is in seat 17C looking like she’s plotting a murder. Odds strongly favor her as the perp.
Oliver
I’m just here for the drama.
Harrison
I’m sitting next to him, can confirm he’s in a full spiral mode. Has to be Rivers related.
Bodhi
Ten bucks says he tries to fight her before we land.
August
Twenty says they’ve already hooked up and he’s just brooding because she did it better than him.
Griffin
Fifty says Bear’s got her panties in his pocket right now.
Ledger
What kind of psycho carries a woman’s panties on a flight?
Griffin
A goalie.
Oliver
Science checks out.
Bodhi
I can see his neck vein from here. It’s like a python trying to escape.
August
Am I the only one who thinks maybe Bear finally got laid?
Ledger
Impossible. There would have been property damage. Coach would have called a meeting.
Harrison
Not ruling it out. His hands are shaking and he keeps flexing them like he’s reliving some kind of traumatic flashback.
August
I mean, what if he’s just constipated?
Me
What if you guys fucked all the way off?
Bodhi
Gasp! He’s ALIVE!
Griffin
I’m not saying Bear’s been compromised, but he hasn’t insulted anyone’s mother in at least forty-five minutes.
Ledger
Only explanation is sex. Or a small stroke.
Bodhi
What if it was both at the same time. Like, Rivers gave him a rage-boner so intense it short-circuited his brain.
August
That would explain the thousand-yard stare. And the excessive hand flexing.
Oliver
Look, Team, we’re all missing the real question. Did Rivers survive the encounter, or is she just wearing his skin as a disguise?
There’s a brief pause, during which I contemplate hurling my phone into the beverage cart. The next volley is a gif from Bodhi: a bear in a tutu pirouetting across a pond.
Bodhi
Live footage of Bear trying to impress a girl.
August
I’m crying!
Oliver
Come on Teddy bear! We’re here for you. Spill the tea. We’re thirsty.
Me
No.
Griffin
Oooh if he’s saying no, that means there is, in fact, tea to spill.
Bodhi
Either spill it right here in this chat or we could just ask you out loud right here on the plane where Rivers is bound to hear us…
Me
Really? You’re blackmailing me to get me to speak?
August
*GIF of dog nodding ‘yep’*
Me
Suck my entire ass.
Griffin
Sir yes sir!
Bodhi
*GIF of a teddy bear squeezing a tube of lube*
August
[captioned photo of Bear from earlier, eyes bugged, face red] He’s either in love or shitting out a hockey puck.
Ledger
Aside: Did anyone see the way Rivers was walking when she boarded? Like she just rode a bull for six hours straight.
Bodhi
So now Bear’s making women bowlegged? That’s King shit.
Oliver
If anyone deserves it, it’s Rivers. Girl terrifies me.
Ledger
I just want to know when the wedding is.
August
I heard they’re both allergic to happiness and that’s why they only fuck in hallways. Can anyone confirm?
Bodhi
[live photo] Rivers is talking with Marlee and they’re both red as fuck. Do you think they’re talking about Bear’s…bear?
Me
Alright, alright. You fat fucks. I kissed her. Alright? I kissed Rivers not long before we boarded. That’s it. That’s the story.
Because I sure as hell am not telling you every tiny detail.
Ledger
Bro, you fingered her in the hallway, didn’t you?
Me
What the fuck is wrong with you?
And how the fuck does he know?
Christ, did someone see us?
Maybe they head us?
Shit.
August
It’s always the quiet ones.
Griffin
You can tell us. Is that why your hands are trembling? Need electrolytes?
Harrison
Bear, at least tell us you washed them before you came back to the locker room.
Me
I will strangle you all with my bare hands.
Bodhi
*GIF of man smelling his fingers and sighing* Bear, do the thing.
August
So that’s why Rivers looked like she wanted to murder you and fuck you when she boarded the plane.
Griffin
I thought she always looked like that tbh.
Ledger
That was different. This was more “annoyed because she liked it” than “annoyed because he exists”
Oliver
I’m just here to say, “thank you for your service, Bear.” Proud of you.
Bodhi
Wait until he tells us the truth. Bear, what really happened?
Me
I told you. I kissed her.
Bodhi
That’s not what Ledger’s face says right now.
Griffin
Can confirm. Ledger is making that “Bear did something really bad” face.
Harrison
Spill it, Bear. If you don’t, we’ll just tell Rivers you confessed your love on the flight.
Me
You wouldn’t dare.
Ledger
Try us.
Bodhi
We’re bored and there’s no movie to watch, man. It’s you or another round of hypothetical dog fights.
August
What’s it gonna be?
I look up. Every single one of those psychos is watching me through the seat gaps, waiting. I could try to lie, but if there’s one thing my teammates know how to do, it’s sniff out bullshit. I sigh, stuff the phone under my thigh, and stare at the window.
Two seconds later, Harrison elbows me in the ribs. “C’mon, man. The plane’s gonna land before you even admit you like her.”
I glare at him and unlock my phone with a sigh. The team chat is still going, now with bonus memes of cartoon bears humping mailboxes and, inexplicably, a video of a raccoon washing its hands in a dog bowl.
Bodhi
Bear, blink twice if she let you eat her out in the janitor’s closet.
August
Bet it was in the penalty box.
Griffin
What are the odds Bear doesn’t last through pregame next week before he blows his load?
Oliver
Honestly shocked Rivers survived.
Ledger
Respect. But also, gross.
Bodhi
Come on, Bear, did Rivers come? Or did she just pretend?
That one makes me choke on my own spit. “Jesus Christ.”
Me
Eat glass, Bodhi.
I type the words but even as I do I can feel my face getting hot. I want to throw my phone, or myself, off the plane.
Harrison
Bear’s blushing. He’s 100% blushing.
Bodhi
Picture or it didn’t happen.
August
I’ll ask Rivers myself. You want me to pass her a note? Check yes or no?
Griffin
Do it. Someone do it. I’ll Venmo you five bucks.
Oliver
I’ll double it if you get her to read it out loud.
I’m about to reply with a string of middle fingers when I see August stand up, stretching like a cat, and amble up the aisle.
He stops at Blakely’s seat, and whispers something to her we can’t hear.
She doesn’t turn, but her shoulders go stiff and I can see her jaw set even from here.
Whatever he says, I catch the little twitch of her smirk.
August shoots her a thumbs up, then comes swaggering back, pausing at my row to say, “She says—and I quote—‘If you girls spent half this energy on your power play, we’d have four more wins this season.’” He winks at me, then flops into his seat, giggling like a delinquent child.
The chat explodes.
Griffin
She didn’t even blink, did she?
August
Nope. She’s a machine.
Oliver
Was she mad?
August
Nah. Girl’s stone cold. But also, I think Bear’s in trouble.
Bodhi
She’s gonna eat you alive, Bear.
Harrison
He’d love that for her.
Ledger
Tbh, same.
I’m half a second from a murder-suicide pact with the cabin door when a new message chimes in from a number I don’t recognize.
UNKNOWN
You have my number now, Cunningham. If you want to keep your fingers, I’d advise you not to tell the boys what else they were up to. I could see it all over Blackstone’s face. Something is up with all of you back there.
My spine goes straight. I glance forward, a few rows up. Rivers is turned toward the window, but I catch the edge of her phone, thumb poised, waiting for a reply. The absolute fucking audacity.
Me
You get bored of cyberbullying the press corps, Rivers?
UNKNOWN
I figured I’d start with someone worth the challenge.
Me
Not even a thank you for earlier?
UNKNOWN
You want a medal? Or you just want to know if you ruined me for other men.
Me
I already know the answer.
UNKNOWN
Bold of you to assume you’re even in the top three, Goalie.
Me
Liar. I had you clawing at my neck. Takes more than “top three” for that.
She doesn’t reply right away. For a second, I wonder if I’ve gone too far. But then the phone buzzes again.
UNKNOWN
Don’t get cocky.
Me
Always cocky. Never wrong.
UNKNOWN
We’ll see about that next time.
I’m grinning like a maniac, and it’s only when I feel Harrison staring that I realize I haven’t made a sound in a whole minute. He’s got that look. The one that says he knows exactly what’s happening, even if he doesn’t have the details. “Did you just get sexted at cruising altitude?” he hisses.
“Fuck you,” I mutter, but it’s useless, because my face says everything and frankly, I don’t even care. I type out a quick reply to the woman in 17C that makes my head spin and then slip my phone into my pocket to prepare for landing.
Me
Told you there would be a next time.