Natalie
I sneak a glance at Brody as we sit on the sectional in the family room. The lights are off, and we’ve got a movie playing. He’s sitting so close that his hard, muscular thigh rests against mine.
It shouldn’t be a distraction, but it is.
Had I been thinking about strategy, I would have allowed him to choose his seat first. Then I could have selected a different spot with a ton of space between us. Unfortunately, I plunked myself down and he practically sat on top of me.
Instead of enjoying the movie, I’m intensely aware of the point of contact between us. I don’t think I’ve ever been more conscious of another person in my life. And I hate it. It’s the last thing I want or need.
Especially with a guy like Brody.
It’s like asking for trouble and being surprised when you get it.
I fled from campus because I needed a little distance from this guy. Somehow, my plan backfired, and now I’m spending the evening alone with him in a dark room. It doesn’t make a damn bit of sense.
Then again, nothing has made sense since Brody opened his trap last weekend and told Reed, along with everyone else, that we were an item. My life has been flipped upside down ever since. And I’m not sure how to get it back to the way it was. The way it should be. I’m drowning in the deep end over here, and there’s no lifeguard on duty.
My phone chimes with a message. Thankful to have something else to focus on besides Brody, I pick it up and glance at the screen.
Ugh.
Hard to believe there’s someone else I want to deal with even less than the guy I’m with.
Dad.
He’s texted a few times since our dinner went sideways. I haven’t bothered responding. What’s there to say?
Congratulations?
Go fuck yourself?
I’m partial to the latter. But for now, I’ll hold my tongue.
Brody glances my way. “Anything interesting?”
My jaw tightens until it feels like it might shatter. I set the phone facedown on the couch next to me, refusing to text my father back. “Nope.”
He raises a brow. “Your pinched expression says otherwise. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were constipated. Normally, I’m the only one who makes you look like that. I feel a little jealous over here.” He scratches his chin thoughtfully. “You’re not two-timing me with another fake boyfriend, are you?”
Those ridiculous comments dissolve the tension that had bubbled up inside me like a geyser. Even though I don’t want to encourage him, the corners of my lips twitch. “I hate to break it to you, but you’re not the only one capable of giving me that strained expression.”
“Hmmm. Guess I’m going to have to step up my game. I thought we had something special between us.”
Good Lord, I don’t think I could handle that. I lay my hand on his forearm, which is—I might add—just as muscular as his thigh. Sheesh. Does this guy have a body part that isn’t hard as steel? I almost choke as that thought flits through my head. I definitely don’t want to think along those lines.
Our gazes catch, and I rip my hand away as if I’ve been burned. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”
When I say nothing more on the topic, he nudges my shoulder with his broader one. “Who was the text from? His eyes narrow and his voice hardens. “It wasn’t Reed, was it?”
I shake my head. “It was my dad.”
His voice softens. “Have you spoken to him since the restaurant?”
“Nope.” It’s easier to stare at the television than meet Brody’s inquisitive gaze. It’s weird to have this conversation with him. The other night he caught me at a weak moment after the restaurant incident. My defenses were down. I normally wouldn’t share such personal information with someone I barely know. I don’t even talk about the divorce with Zara, and she’s my best friend. She’s the one who was there to pick up the pieces when my dad blew our lives to smithereens.
My belly prickles. I hope my one-word answer will be enough to shut down any further questions.
“So, what are you going to do about the situation?”
I should have known better. Brody’s not much into taking social cues. The guy does what he wants when he wants.
Uncomfortable with the direction of our conversation, I shift next to him. After a few silent moments, my gaze meanders back to his. The sincere interest in his eyes takes me by surprise. I’m not used to seeing that from him. What I’m used to is his merciless teasing and me sniping back. I’m used to us being on opposite sides of a fight.
This kind of behavior—even though I’ve seen more of it lately—knocks me off-kilter. I’m not sure what to make of it. I never expected him to defend me against Reed. Or try to make me feel better by taking me skating. I don’t know if I’m ready for a shift of this magnitude in our relationship. Or to change my narrative about him. I’ve had Brody pegged from day one of our freshman business class three years ago, and nothing since has changed my opinion of him.
He’s a conceited, womanizing, attention-whore who’s biding his time at Whitmore until he moves on to bigger and better things. But the Brody I’ve caught glimpses of this week isn’t like that at all.
The words spill from my lips before I can rein them back in. “I don’t plan on doing anything. He’s the one who walked out and left us. And now he’s moving on with the woman who wrecked their marriage.” Fury rushes through my veins like molten lava.
“Don’t you miss him?”
I lay my head against the back of the couch so I can gaze up at the ceiling because I don’t want to continue holding his eyes. The conversation we’re having feels too intense. We’re barely friends.
“I miss the way we used to be when we were all together.” I think about how Dad was dressed at the restaurant, trying to act like something he’s not. Hip and cool and young. “The guy I met a couple of days ago, I don’t know him.” The one who ditched my mom and has taken up with someone who isn’t that much older than I am.
“Maybe you need to tell him that. Get it all off your chest so you can move forward.”
I shrug, wishing I didn’t care as much as I do. “I don’t even know what more I would say.”
“Any dialogue is better than none,” he says quietly.
“It’s complicated, Brody.” I turn my head so our eyes can meet. A little zip of energy sizzles in the air between us.
He nods. “Family usually is.”
“Yeah.” What sucks is that it never used to be.
He slips his arm around my shoulders and hauls me close, dropping a kiss on the top of my head. My body stiffens. Like the conversation we’re having, this is unchartered territory for us. I’m not sure what to make of it or how to react.
Brody doesn’t say anything more about my dad, which is a relief. His eyes go back to the movie playing on the screen. Instead of releasing me, he settles in. I’m pressed against the hard lines of his body. There’s nowhere for my head to go except against his chest. The fresh, clean scent of his aftershave batters my senses. I can’t help but inhale more of him.
Why does he have to smell so good?
And why does being held in his arms feel surprisingly...nice?
Little by little, my rigid muscles loosen.
How can I feel so at-ease with Brody when we’ve always been at odds with one another?
Not wanting to dwell on that thought, I push it from my mind and focus on the movie. With my head nestled against his chest and my body pressed against his, I realize there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
Brody clears his throat and says, “My mom died when I was ten.”
My breath catches as shock floods through every part of me. I scramble to find adequate words, but there are none. I’m left giving him platitudes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Other than the snippets I hear around campus—which usually entail his antics on and off the ice—I don’t know much about Brody’s personal life. Certainly not something so important.
He shrugs as if it’s not a big deal, but the tensed way he holds himself says otherwise. “It happened a long time ago.”
Thirteen years is a long time, but not enough to take away the sting of that kind of pain. I’d be devastated if something happened to my mom.
“Do you have any siblings?” Again, I have no idea.
“I have a two-year-old sister named Hailey.”
Like a kaleidoscope, my image of him shifts. No longer is Brody the one-dimensional, hockey-playing jerk I assumed him to be. He’s a man who has suffered great loss.
Unsure what to say, I remain silent, and he continues. “My dad remarried a few years ago. His wife’s name is Amber.” He shrugs. “As far as stepmoms go, she’s a pretty good one. I can’t complain.”
This is the first time I’m being allowed a true glimpse of Brody. I get the feeling he doesn’t let many people inside. I can appreciate that. Most of the time, I feel the same way. But the difference is that Brody is constantly surrounded by people—teammates, girls, fans—who want to get close to him because of who he is and where he’s going in life.
Forgetting about the movie, I turn in his arms so I can fully meet his gaze. “Are you and your dad close?”
“Yeah, we are. After my mom died, it was just the two of us. He didn’t get together with Amber until I was already out of the house and doing my own thing, so I wasn’t very upset about it. I meet with him every Sunday morning at the ice rink, and we run through drills for a couple of hours. Then we have brunch at the house with Amber and Hailey. Because of my schedule, it’s the only time I have to spend with them.” He adds, “My dad owns a sports management agency. He played in the NHL for a decade. When his hockey career ended, he decided to rep other athletes. He started out with a few teammates and made a name for himself, and now he owns a company with about twenty-five agents working for him. He mostly oversees the operational side of the company, but he’s repping me.”
“Wow.” I had no idea. About any of this.
After a few beats of silence, he admits, “My dad wasn’t too happy when he found out about you.”
Surprise washes over me. “Really? Why?” I can’t see what difference it would make. Brody’s a twenty-three-year-old man. What he does is his own business.
“He wants to make sure I stay focused on school and hockey. This is my last year before moving up to the pros. He doesn’t want me getting derailed.”
A thought occurs to me. “Is he the reason you’ve never had a girlfriend?”
“I guess.” He shrugs. “But it’s not like I’ve ever met anyone either. Hockey takes up so much of my life. I don’t have the time to devote to a relationship at this point.”
What he says makes perfect sense. But still…It seems weird that his father would be so overly-involved in his son’s personal life.
“I guess it’s good that we’re not really dating,” I say lightly. For the first time, I’m not sure how I feel about that. There’s so much about Brody that I’m only just discovering.
“I tried explaining the situation, but he didn’t get it. I told him I was just helping a friend out.”
I snort. “Friend…” Two weeks ago, I wouldn’t have considered Brody McKinnon my friend.
He chuckles. “What? We’re friends, right?”
“I don’t know. We’re more like,” I pause, racking my brain for the right term, “frenemies.” But even that doesn’t fit anymore.
“Wow.” His brows rise. “I had no idea you felt that way about me. I always thought we were just joking around.” Looking surprisingly serious, his eyes lock on mine. “Has that changed this past week? Are we friends now or still frenemies?”
Knocked off balance by the change in conversation, I shrug. How am I supposed to answer that question? Strangely enough, our relationship has changed over the course of this week. I wouldn’t have thought it possible. There’s more to Brody than meets the eye and I would be lying if I didn’t admit I want to dig deeper. To slowly peel back the layers of who Brody McKinnon is.
I’m starting to wonder if he’s someone I could actually like.
As a friend. Nothing more.
“I guess we’re slowly venturing into friends territory.” When his lips lift, I add just so he doesn’t get any ideas, “But I reserve the right to change that opinion at any time.”
“Fair enough.” Before I realize his intention, his hand grazes the side of my face until he’s able to cradle my cheek in the palm of his hand. My breath lodges in my lungs. I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can only watch with wide eyes and wait for his next move. “I don’t want to be your frenemy, Natalie,” he admits quietly.
He searches my eyes intently, looking for…I have no idea. Then his mouth slants across mine, leisurely brushing over me once, twice, three times. The movement leaves me wanting more. It’s like he’s teasing me.
When he finally presses his mouth against mine, it never occurs to me not to open for him. His actions are measured as if we have all the time in the world.
His tongue sweeps inside my mouth, mingling and playing with my own. Tasting and exploring at the same unhurried pace. Shifting me around in his arms, he changes the angle. This kiss is so different than the one we shared in front of everyone at the party. That was more of a show of ownership. This one is entirely different. It’s more exploratory in nature and feels as if he wants to take his time and savor what’s unfolding between us.
His fingers slide into my hair, holding me in place. Pushing him away is the last thing on my mind. I never imagined what it would be like to kiss Brody. Of course, I’ve heard the rumors. You can’t be on campus for more than a week without being regaled with his sexual exploits.
If this display is anything to go on, then all the gossip is true. Brody knows exactly what he’s doing. His kisses are enough to melt my panties.
And I’m at the opposite end of the spectrum.
As much as I hate to admit it, Reed’s ugly words have taken up residence inside my head. They’ve wounded my confidence. Instead of enjoying the moment, I find myself wondering if Brody likes kissing me. If I’m doing the right thing. Is there—
I break away, pulling out of Brody’s grasp. My fingers tremble as they seek out my lips. I suck in a greedy breath and push it out again, trying to regain my bearings. There’s a drugged look in his eyes. I imagine it’s mirrored in my own.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I shake my head.
Nope. On the contrary.
Now I just have to find the nerve to tell him what I want.