Page 43 of Ice Cold Rival

Me: A Sunday night in mid-November.

Wifey: Count me in. I love a free meal. Wait, someone else is paying, right?

I laughed. She didn’t even need the spite. Her easy acceptance warmed me in a way I didn’t want to analyze too closely.

Me: My Gram is paying. I’m driving. All you have to do is prove I’m taken so she stops trying to pair me off as a bonus in a business arrangement.

Wifey: [laughing emoji] Poor you. Are you too pretty for the open market?

Me: You know I am. The only one good enough for me is you.

I don’t know why I wrote the last sentence, but it was too late to take it back. The message was already marked as read. After the stress of the game, Coach, and Gram, I’d relaxed the second I started chatting with Kenzie.

Irrationally, my day got better when I talked to her. Until I scared her away with stupid shit.

Wifey: Good thing you have me then.

Out of all the responses running through my head, I hadn’t expected her to roll with my comment. I should end the conversation now, but the reckless urge from earlier surged forward to take control.

Me: What’s next on your list?

I knew what I was hoping she’d say, but the vagueness gave her the opportunity to pick something mundane. Three dots came and went as I watched, which told me she was still on the fence about my suggestion.

We hadn’t discussed it, and we probably should. I’d surprised myself with how quickly I’d jumped on the idea of list-based sex games, but crossing the line with Kenzie felt different than with every other woman. The list gave me the excuse not to dive too deeply into the reason why.

Wifey: Come meet me after your game next Friday, and we’ll see. Good night, Reece.

Excitement heated my blood. Friday couldn’t come fast enough.

Me: Night, wifey.

She sent me a series of increasingly offensive emojis, and I laughed all the way up to my room.

15

Why was I like this? I’d been one hundred percent on board when I’d told Reece to meet me after his game, but as the week progressed, nerves got the better of me. Reece was a busy guy. He texted me at least once a day, often more, but I hadn’t seen him since he’d had me shuddering on his couch.

Instead of focusing on the secondary ed group project worth a large percentage of my grade, I was wading through piles of clothes looking for the right outfit for a delayed booty call with my fake boyfriend.

I wasn’t even sure if Avery or Marco would be there, so I could be sitting by myself trying not to fidget for the entire game. What if I did something embarrassing and reflected poorly on Reece? The entire school was talking about our relationship, and I didn’t want to make anything worse.

A second later, I realized what I’d just told myself. I’d fallen back into an old habit of always assuming my presence was an extension of my boyfriend. Fake or not, he’d made it clear my actions were my own, and I should do what made me happy.

I flopped back on my bed, clothes and all. Screw Toby and his bullshit. He wasn’t allowed to poison my thoughts anymore. Every time I relapsed I’d simply replace the bad thought with an image of Reece smiling at me. Naturally, I could never tell him, or he’d become impossible to deal with.

He hadn’t seen my list yet, despite helping me with a few ideas, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to show it to him. The hesitation made me think I should. I’d made it in the Notes app on my phone, so it came with me everywhere anyway. Still, the idea made my heart race. Why was I nervous? He wouldn’t judge me, though he’d probably make a joke about my sheltered upbringing.

I was surprised to find out Reece was funny… and thoughtful, and generous, and really,reallyhot. At some point, I should probably thank Amanda for forcing my hand with him. If for nothing else than giving me the opportunity to find out for myself that not all hockey players sucked.

Amanda had been suspiciously quiet lately, and her behavior was making me antsy. I’d gotten used to the constant barrage of insults and subtle manipulation. My sorority sisters weren’t breaking my door down to be besties, but they’d stopped leaving the room when I walked into it.

A girl could only take so much abuse. I gladly accepted their indifference instead.

A knock pulled me from my musing, and I idly wondered if I’d summoned Amanda by thinking about her like some kind of demon. When I pulled the door open, my perfect older sister stood in the doorway in a beautiful yellow sundress which matched the perfect understated makeup on her perfect face. She held a garment bag in one hand and an iced coffee in the other.

I frowned, not excited about dealing with my inferiority complex right before a date. “What are you doing here?”

“That’s how you greet visitors? Mom would be so disappointed.”

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