Page 48 of Tempest

“Oh. Well, nobody’s. But I grew up with Gavin Vaughn.”

“Gav is soooo nice,” Sadie says dramatically. “He used to play Go Fish with me all the time. But I don’t like to play that much anymore. So, he’s teaching me chess, which is kinda like hockey plays.”

Tori and Sadie take up the conversation of chess, allowing Isla and I to talk.

“I was going to text you this weekend, but since I have you now, would you be interested in helping plan a girls’ night? I have a friend coming to town to film. She doesn’t know anyone here and needs friends to occupy her downtime. Otherwise, she’ll end up getting herself in trouble and her agent will riot.”

“Sure, of course. Who are we talking about?”

“Britton Macy.”

“Shut the fuck up,” she says in an excited whisper. “You’re joking?”

“Not at all,” I say with a laugh. “She’s a client turned friend who will be here for roughly four months.”

“I loved her in Wuthering Heights. Like, obsessively loved. Like, she’s my hall pass and I’m not even bisexual.”

“She has that effect; everyone falls in love with her.”

“Fuck,” Isla cusses and takes a deep breath. “I’m sure I’ll embarrass myself, but yes, anything you need.”

“Well, I mostly need to rely on you for the guestlist, since I don’t know many people, either.”

“You got it. No wag will pass up a chance to meet Britton Macy.”

“Great, thank you.”

“No, Odette. Thank you.”

“Will Cillian be thanking me after all this?”

“No, probably not.” She laughs as music starts playing loudly.

“What’s happening?” I ask Tori.

“Warmups,” she says. “They make it kind of a big production. Hockey has this weird cheesy aspect to it.”

“I thought they fought all the time?”

“Oh, they do that, too,” she says. “They have two sets of rules. The official ones, and the player ones. They’re self-governing, of sorts. You disrespect a player on another team, that team will pay it back, and everyone lets it happen.”

I try to watch all the players, but my focus keeps landing on Gavin. He skates around in circles for a few minutes, then takes a few shots at goal, before he moves to one side of the ice to stretch.

What does it say about me that heat sizzles in my stomach when all he’s doing is stretching his hips. It’s not lewd but my mind goes there; to images of him making similar movements over me. To memories that I thought I’d long buried.

Switching my sight to other players doing similar stretches, the same reaction isn’t duplicated. It’s only with him. He’s the only one. In some ways, he always has been, and in some ways, I’ve always been mad at him for that.

Yet, it’s undeniable. This chemistry between us? It’s real, even if it can’t be seen.

It also can’t be denied that I want him as much as I want him to stay away. Gavin is a constant tug-of-war in my heart. They say “the heart wants what the heart wants”. My heart isn’t what wants Gavin, though.

It’s my body. And maybe the ego he bruised all those years ago. It’d really like a chance to show him what he’s missed.

“There will be an intermission now,” Tori tells me when the skaters leave the ice. “They’ll refresh the ice, then the game will start. I’ll get some food. Do you want anything?”

“Can I come with? I’d like the whole experience.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll show you all my favorites.”

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