Page 90 of Butterfly Effect

“Whoa.” He holds up a reeking glove before throwing it off. “That’s a fucked up thing to say.”

“Yeah, well…Some of usarefucked up.”

Landon tuts while I unlace my skates. “We’re all fucked up. We’re all traumatized. Still not an excuse to be a jerk.”

The ceiling comes into view as my head hangs back. “She won’t talk to me.”

“You could go apologize in person. She’s back in town.”

“She is?”

She’s been ignoring me? She’s been ignoring me!

“Jesus, do you two talk or what?”

Knife. Twist.

“Last night,” he confirms with a confused nod. “If she’s as pissed off as I think, don’t tell her I told you. I like my balls attached to my dick, thank you very much. I overheard Indi canceling their barre class plans, which will start” —he squints at the analog clock on the wall— “in an hour. I’ll text you the address.”

A map link to Barre None appears in my messages.

“Hey, I know that place. We went there during dry land.”

I haul ass in the Rover to the studio, giving absolutely zero shits that I’ll probably be the sacrificial lamb in Gabe’s forthcoming murderous rampage.

After buttering up the desk staff with a few selfies and autographed jerseys, they let me into the studio.

Gabe extends her endless leg on the handrail at the teacher’s instruction, and my mind goes right down the gutter. As if it could be anywhere else when her leggings and cropped top show off every curve and line of her incredible body.

I’m a lost cause, already imagining all the filthy ways I could have her, here, like this. Me on my knees, her ankle high up on the barre, or knee hooked over my shoulder, wet cunt on my mouth, then pulsing around my fingers and cock.

Her eyes enlarge with surprise and narrow in rage.

The size of my grin at winning her attention makes my cheeks hurt. I stride towards her.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” she says under her breath.

My hand reaches for hers, mouth hungry to kiss her knuckles, only leaving a sliver of space between our bodies before my lips brush over the hard ridges. Hushed sighs andaww’s fill the background.

“Surprising my girlfriend,” I whisper back.

She rolls her eyes closed before the glower returns.

“And it doesn’t have anything to do with how much you’re enjoying all these women fawning over you?”

“Which women?”

All I see is you.

“The ones who are tittering and falling over themselves.”

I shift, molding my free arm around her hips. “Who cares about them?” The shell of her ear wafts my hot breath back at me. “I’m only interested in you falling apart for me.”

She wears a fake smile and dryly laughs with her shoulders. “Whatever.”

I dig my chin into the crook of her neck.

“Hey, Miss Diana,” I greet the older instructor. Gabe shoots over a look of disbelief as she lets go of our embrace. “What?” I shrug. “The goalies train here sometimes.”

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