Page 20 of The Tape Job
“Are you kidding?”
“No. Why would I be? We can’t just throw everything away.”
“You did that, Lee,” I snap.
“No, actually, you did. But I want to move past it. We’re going to have to spend a lot of time together, so we need to make it work.”
“Well, just avoid me all the times you don’t have to work with me, please.”
“Vic—” Liam’s voice is soft.
“Don’t,” I say, looking down at my feet, right at the shoes I’m wearing that Liam bought me. I remember when he gave them to me. It’s as if he had read my mind and knew that I’d been looking lovingly at them for weeks—either that or he’d checked my search history and stalked my Insta. But as a general fact, Liam always seems to know what I like, what I need, and when I seem to need it. Just like I know exactly what he wants and likes too. And wearing only these heels and stockings is high on the list. Sometimes his jersey, too—nothing underneath, the rough material scratching at my skin, my nipples in particular.
“What’s going on, Vicster?” There’s that attempt at friendly again. He crouches down and looks up, forcing me to lock eyes with him. My skin ripples with goosebumps. I want him. I want him to take me into that equipment room and—I bite my lip. How can he even ask me that? He knows exactly what’s going on. “Talk to me. Please.” There’s a flicker of something in that yellowy-green paradise of his eyes that I’ve lost myself in so many times.
“I’m not ready yet,” I say, swerving around him as I hop to the unmatted area, quick on my feet, knowing he won’t chase me without guards.
What did he expect? To turn up here and be friends? No way. There’s too much between us to be friends.
Liam
I hate being frustrated. I just don’t know how to deal with it and the more I try to figure it out, the more frustrated I get. It’s a vicious circle and the object of my frustration is myself. I know now that I clearly wasn’t thinking. Being apart from Vicky made me forget how she can overwhelm my senses and ignite uncontrollable emotions.
The way she smells, the way she looks at me, the sound of her voice, her laugh. I’m now in a state of desperation to touch her, feel her underneath me, hold her hand in mine, and not to mention the need I have to taste her. Because, fuck me, the taste of her lips and her pussy are enough to make me feral at the mere thought. The emotional connection we have, coupled with the sexual pull, is a dangerous combination. But feeling the way I do now, I just need something from her. Anything.
I head back into the dressing room, dropping my stick in the rack as I pass, eager to get the fuck away from here because everything about this place screams Vicky. And I need a damn shower. I get to my cubby just as the rest of the guys file in, bar Johnny and Matt Rodgers. As everyone removes their gear, the air fills with conversation about practice, but I don’t feel like joining in.
“Has Johnny said anything to you, Betts?” Hutch, one of the other forwards, asks.
But before Bettsy can answer, the door to the dressing room creaks open, and Johnny, Matt, and Coach stride in.They stop just before they reach the logo dominating the centre of the room.
“Listen in, fellas,” Coach says after clearing his throat. He rocks back and forth on his feet as if he’s waiting to pounce. “I know there’s been some history, but please remember: you’re all on the same team, and I expect you to behave like it, on and off the ice. I won’t take any of that shit. And I have no problem benching any troublemakers. This isn’t juniors. Professional hockey means professional hockey. Any problems, see me.” Coach sweeps his gaze around the room twice before nodding. He whispers something to Johnny before turning and heading out, back through the half-open dressing room door.
“Any issues, guys?” Johnny says, using his best authoritative voice. At first, he’s not looking at anyone in particular, but his gaze lays to rest on Bettsy, who’s wriggling out of his underlayer.
“Betts? Matt? Do you guys need to talk anything through?” he asks.
“No,” they chime.
I’d like to say that the air was clear, but it feels thicker than ever.
“Where’re you living then, mate?” Hutch asks Matt from his cubby.
“I’m waiting for them to allocate me a place. I’m in a hotel for a few weeks, by the look of it,” Matt replies.
Ryan grins at me. “Worst case, Jen and I will move out of Vicky’s soon. I guess she’ll be looking for someone to share with.”
I have to bite my tongue not to show how I really feel about that idea, but he can see right through me. I have given little thought to their move. Real estate is slow here, and they haven’t made any formal offers yet, so he’s just messingwith me.
“There’ll be no need for that,” Johnny says. “I think there’s something coming up in our building soon.”
“Why doesn’t Matt live with you?” I ask Johnny.
“Because there’s no need.” He stomps off towards the showers. I wonder what’s got him so fucking tetchy.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist,” Ryan says, leaning in when the immediate area around us has cleared. “What was all that about with Vicky?”
“Nothing.”
