Page 38 of Hot Mic, Cold Ice

Elliot shakes his head at me, saying, “I'd rather die drowning in your pussy than argue with you about this.” His eyes narrow in a challenge.

The jokes on him, I’m always ready for a challenge. “No. You don’t always get what you want.” I desperately want to win this battle but my body has other ideas. I can feel my arousal dripping down my thigh.

His eyes trail down my leg, “Shut the fuck up and sit on my goddamn face.”

His eager anticipation mirrors my own escalating excitement as I give in to him. As I lower myself, our connection feels raw and exhilarating. Somehow there is a mutual exchange of desire and pleasure. The room fills with the sounds of cries, my satisfaction building until utter ecstasy shreds my body to pieces.

Elliot’s arms wrap tightly around me as if he is afraid to let go. He slides my fully satiated body down his until I'm resting my head on his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath my ear. Despite the tumultuous start to the night, there is a strange sense of calm in this moment.

For the first time in what feels like forever, we don’t speak. There are no words to adequately capture the complex web of emotions that have brought us to this point. Instead, we let the silence settle around us, a fragile truce in the aftermath. We just disconnect our bodies to clean up, before curling up aroundeach other’s bodies again. And, as I drift off to sleep, I wonder what tomorrow will bring and whether this tenuous connection between us can survive the chaos of our lives.

Chapter 30

The Red Wolves have been on fire. I’ve been covering a lot of their games. My schedule is a whirlwind of flights and late nights, and I haven't been back to Atlanta in weeks. Constantly being on the move is starting to wear on me, but there is a silver lining. The next Wednesday night game I’m covering is the Atlanta Vipers. Finally! I can go back to my apartment and be there long enough to do more than laundry before heading back to the airport. It is a break, even if it’s just a small one. It's better than nothing.

I wake up to the soft glow of sunlight filtering through my curtains. The simple surroundings of my apartment bring me a sense of calm. I can take my time. I have a morning to myself. No need to rush to catch a flight or scramble to the rink. Stretching luxuriously, I sink back into my pillows, savoring the rare chance to just breathe.

I tell myself five more minutes nine or ten times before I finally roll out of bed and pad to the bathroom. I turn on the shower, letting the steam fill the room before stepping under the hot water. The heat melts away the stress, and I feel my muscles start to relax. I take my time, savoring every moment, washing my hair and letting the water cascade over me. It feels indulgent like I am washing away weeks of travel grime and exhaustion.

Post-shower, I wrap myself in a fluffy towel and apply a rejuvenating face mask, enjoying the cool sensation against my skin. I spend the next half-hour pampering myself–moisturizing, applying serums, and doing a mini-manicure. It feels good to take care of myself and to focus on my own needs for a change.

Eventually, I slip into a pair of comfy black leggings and a crop top. The outfit is casual but flattering, perfect for a low-key brunch. I grab my bag, slip on some sneakers, and head out the door. The fresh air is invigorating, and I feel a spring in my step as I walk to my favorite brunch spot.

The streets are bustling with activity, but I’m in my own little bubble, enjoying the freedom of a day without obligations. I find a cozy table at the café and order a latte and avocado toast. As I wait for my food, I pull out my phone to catch up on messages and emails.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee and the chatter of other patrons creates a pleasant hum around me, and it makes me smile. It is nice to have a morning just for me to recharge. Especially since I didn't know that I needed this as much as I did. I know the hustle will pick up again soon, but for now, I am content to sip my coffee and let the world go by.

Having spent the better part of a month traveling, the streets of Atlanta are starting to feel more familiar. They provide me with a feeling of home instead of the sense of suffocation I used to feel. It’s nice to now experience a strange comfort from being here instead of negativity. I am looking forward to the rest of my peaceful afternoon, but just as I’m settling into the idea of a quiet evening at home, fate throws a curveball.

As I walk out of the café, the aroma of brunch lingering around me, I’m ready to enjoy the rest of my day off. The sun is shining, and everything feels right in the world. But that peace shatters the moment I see him. Standing in the middle of the sidewalk, with his clean-cut, lanky frame and a smug look plastered on his face, is the worst ex-boyfriend on the planet. The one and only I had foolishly moved to Atlanta for.

He still is every bit the finance bro stereotype. Crisp suit, perfectly styled hair, and an aura of arrogance that makes my stomach churn. Just seeing him brings back a flood of memories I’d rather forget. I have to fight the urge to turn around and walk away. Instead, I take a deep breath and prepare myself for the inevitable awkward conversation.

I should have hightailed it in the other direction, but instead I stand there nodding along as my ex rambles on. It's a brief exchange of pleasantries at first, but he quickly slips back into his old charming self. I can see the gears turning in his head. His eyes linger a bit too long, and his smile is a little too eager.

“You look amazing, Ziggy,” he says, his voice dripping with an almost practiced sincerity. “Atlanta really suits you. I’ve been following your career, you know. You’ve done incredible things since we… well, since we parted ways.”

His flattery feels hollow, but the charm is still there, worming its way through my defenses. “How about we catch up properly? Dinner, maybe? Just one night to talk and see how much we’ve both changed.” His words are carefully chosen, designed to reignite whatever lingering emotions might be there.

“I don’t know if that is a good idea.” I counter his request.

“Just one dinner, Zig,” he argues, flashing the smile that had once made me weak in the knees. “It would be nice to catch up.”

I hesitate, knowing it probably isn’t the best idea. But there is a part of me that is curious, a part of me that wants to see if the spark is still there. Besides, I have some time off in Atlanta before heading to Charlotte, so I have a whole free evening the day after Wednesday’s game.

“Okay, fine,” I agree, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. “Dinner on Thursday.”

He looks pleased, but I still feel like I am making a mistake. But it’s just dinner, I tell myself. What could go wrong?

With that settled, I head home, my mind racing. I have a game to cover, a complicated relationship with Elliot to navigate, and now an unexpected dinner with my ex. It's going to be an interesting few days in Atlanta.

The rest of the afternoon unfolds smoothly, lounging around my apartment and catching up on some reading. The next two days fly by in a blur of work. The Red Wolves clinch another win, and my reporting assignments go off without a hitch. Everything feels like it is falling into place.

Before I know it, it's Thursday. I spend the morning prepping for the day and tying up loose ends. Time seems to slip away from me, and suddenly, I realize my dinner with the ex is only an hour away. My mind races with thoughts about how the evening will go, but I push them aside as I get ready. I choose a classic yet cute outfit, something that'll strike the right balance between casual and put-together.

I don’t want to look like a troll but cannot give off the impression that I tried hard for this meet-up. The ex needs to understand his place in my priorities, the very bottom of the list. Underneath going to the dentist or getting a pap smear. With one last glance in the mirror, I grab my purse, my keys and head out, determined to keep my composure no matter what the night has in store.

Chapter 31

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