My body reacts to him like it hasn’t been touched in years, not hours, but I need to exercise some self-control like the adult woman I am. I think? A voice somewhere is telling me that’s right, but a much louder, much more turned-on voice is telling me to take off my clothes. “Should we talk about the elephant in the room?” I ask, silently congratulating myself for verbalizing my thoughts and not just giving in.
His breath is hot on my throat when he speaks. “I didn’t win you an elephant, but we can go to Santa Monica right now if that’s what you want.”
“You’re ridiculous. I mean the reason you’re taking all your nervous energy out on my body instead of talking about it.”
He nudges one of my knees with his and climbs between my legs, pressing himself into me so I can feel how hard he is. “I’m not nervous about the game. I doubt I’ll even see your parents.”
“So youdoknow what I’m talking about! Henry, get off me! Let’s talk about it.”
He groans as he dramatically climbs from between my legs and throws himself onto the mattress. “There’s nothing to talk about. I’m not nervous.”
It’s no accident that my parents booked their annual January trip on the weekend when Will is playing at Maple Hills. I blame me not realizing the dates overlapped on the fact I was so sick when they called to remind me a few weeks ago. I’ve already made my peace with this weekend being hell, but I hate that it’s been weighing on Henry’s mind all week.
“You know it doesn’t matter to me if you win or lose, right? And if you don’t want to see my mom and stepdad that’s totally fine with me. I hadn’t even considered you would want to since you’ll be so busy with the team, and you also call them annoying every time I speak to them on the phone.”
“I want to beat him for you,” he says. “I want to embarrass him the same way he made you feel embarrassed and belittled. I want him to be miserable every second he’s on the ice.”
“That’s all very admirable of you, but I need you to know that I don’t care. I’m going to be there for you and you only—well, the guys, too, but mainly you. If you win, you win. If you don’t, no big deal.”
“Is this the bit where you copy what they say in the movies like,You’ll always be a winner in my eyes, or something cheesy?”
“Is that what you want me to say to you, my little winner?” Henry rolls his eyes at me but slides closer, cupping my cheek with his hand. “You’ll always get reassurance from me. We’re a team, remember?”
“Do you think your parents will always dislike me because I’m not Will?” Henry isn’t someone I’m used to sounding uncertain, so the sliver of vulnerability in his voice as he moves his hand from my face to twirl a strand of my hair between his fingers crushes me.
“They won’t dislike you, Henry. They don’t even know you. If they knew you, they’d love you. You are a person who makes their daughter infinitely happy, and in the grand scheme of things, that matters more than someone in my past.”
“You sound like you think you’re right, but I also don’t believe you.”
“I think you need to do something productive to keep your brain busy.” I push off the hand that immediately grips my thigh, adding, “That doesn’t involve pawing at me. Why don’t you paint? Or draw? Or, I don’t know, get your tablet and give me a structural breakdown of every single piece you’ve ever created including pictures?”
I expect an argument, but I don’t get one. “Okay,” he says. “Wait here.”
Henry disappears from his room, and I’m left on his bed, confused and very skeptical. When he comes back into the room, he holds out his hand, gesturing toward his door with his head.
“No,” I say, my eyes narrowing in suspicion. “I feel like you’re up to no good.”
He gives me the mischievous smile that makes me melt. “I’m doing what you said. I’m keeping my brain busy and no one else is home, so come on.”
Taking his hand, I maintain my skepticism as he leads me out of the room and into the one next door. I don’t think I’ve ever been in this room. There’s a bed pushed up against the wall with no bedding on it, and unused canvases leaning against the closet. “Is this your secret lair?”
I sit on the bed as he walks around the empty floor. “It’s JJ’s old room. We were supposed to have another guy move in, but it didn’thappen, so it only gets used if the guys stay too late. There’s more floor space after I pushed the bed against the wall. I work in here sometimes.”
“Very convenient…”I’m still suspicious.
“Do you want to paint something with me?” he asks, spreading a protective sheet across the hardwood floor. “I have a very specific idea.”
It takes me ten times longer than normal to blink because of the shock. “You’re joking. You’re going to let me be involved?”
“I’m not joking.” Pushing the canvases out of the way, he opens the closet door and reaches in, pulling out what looks like a rolled-up cotton canvas and a sealed pack of different-colored paints. “But it’ll be messy. This is body paint.”
Putting the paints on the floor beside his feet, he gets on his knees and unrolls the canvas in the center of the protective sheet. One hand reaches behind his head, tugging his T-shirt over his head and throwing it behind him.
“What do you want to do?” I ask, taking off his sweatshirt that I stole. Henry stands from the floor, pushing his sweatpants down until he’s only in his boxers.
“I want to take off all your clothes, cover you in paint, and fuck you right here on the floor,” he says, pointing to the center of the canvas. “Respectfully, of course.”
I have been saying I wish I knew more about Henry’s creative process… “I love art.”