Page 9 of Puck to the Heart
“Excuse me?” Olivia began, the same pissed, pinchy expression she’d worn in the box office on her face.
“This is Miranda. She does PR for the Knights. They need photos for the raffle, or whatever.” Had I slept with Miranda? Probably? For the most part, I remembered everyone I had sex with, but a few of thewilderWilder parties evaporated from my memory. From the undercurrent of polite hostility I always received from the redhead, I assumed I slept with her and was too afraid and ashamed to ask. At least she was happily dating Allen, now, so I didn’t have to worry about a repeat.
And yes, I knew how shitty it seemed.
“Oh. Hello?—”
Miranda’s phone flashed again, catching Olivia in the middle of her sentence. I would bet a month’s salary that photo would end up on the Knights’ socials. When Miranda asked for photos of us standing together, Olivia flat-out refused, and I was grateful when she put her foot down. Unlike me, Ihadto do what Miranda told me to do.
Olivia’s mood improved greatly as a decadent domed mousse appeared between us and Miranda disappeared, obviously satisfied with the photos she’d taken.
In a few more bites, the dinner would be over and after the ride home, I'd likely never see Olivia again. Emptiness blossomed at the thought. Maybe I wanted to see her again. Maybe I liked talking to her about lube and not having friends, anything other than tits and hockey. Maybe I wanted to learn more about this enigma of a woman.
We finished and rose to leave. Olivia slipped on her coat and pulled her long brown hair from the collar. She was taller than I’d realized.
As I accidentally lost myself in admiring the woman across from me, from out of nowhere, someone appeared from the depths of the room, barreling right into me. Reflexes honed from over two decades of being body checked into walls kicked in, my hands darting to spin my accidental assailant and I around.
Except Olivia was closer than I’d realized, and my choices suddenly dwindled to either letting this person with zero spatial awareness knock Olivia down or letting the stranger fall.
I chose the latter.
Miranda’s earlier arrival drew the attention of the rest of the patrons of Le Reve, but our little fall incident seemed to snap whatever kept them in their seats. Some of them hung back, but enough people recognized me and stepped forward to invade our space that several others followed, probably not even knowing why they were following the crowd.
Olivia’s spine jerked straight as strangers pushed past her to get to me, shoving napkins and phones in my face. Their grasping hands gripped and squeezed, forgetting that I was just some dude in a jersey, not some kind of saint they wanted to tear a piece off to keep as a relic.
And I did nothing but smile and laugh and sign.
With every swoop of the Sharpie, the walls crushed my lungs, every photo cracked my ribs. So much time passed since I’d been unprepared for a situation like this, though I should’ve been. Miranda’s calculated timing and her photos were the first wave in this stupid PR stunt; the gushing fans the second.
“Sorry, folks, but that’s all the time we have!” Olivia’s voice cut through the low murmuring sounds of the small crowd. “Ash, we have to leave right now, or we’ll be late. We have a… thing… to do.”
“A thing?” I almost asked what she meant, but I caught on, something in her eyes making me redirect. A slapshot instead of a backhand. “The thing. Right.”
Probably the most surprising occurrence of the night was Olivia Barnes stepping into my personal space, tucking her hand in mine, and steering me away.
“If you don’t take us out the back doorright now,” she said under her breath to Jordan, “you’ll hear from the Knights’ legal team tomorrow.”
Jordan nodded frantically, seemingly as nonplussed by all of this as we were, and maybe a little afraid of Olivia’s wrath.
Through the kitchen we escaped, dodging waiters and sous chefs. Olivia nearly slipped, her flat shoes made for an office rather than the slippery kitchen floor, but her fingers still tangled with mine, so I kept her from falling.
We waited outside as Jordan went to send the car around to pick us up. Rough slabs of stone dug into my shoulders and back as I leaned against the wall, sucking down enough air for the first time since Miranda appeared half an hour ago.
Encounters like these always took so much out of me; adrenaline curled my fingers and flexed them back and forth against the leg of my jeans. A glow lit up Olivia’s face as she scrolled on her phone. Did she know she worried her bottom lip with her teeth while she concentrated? When she finished, she dipped her chin, sending the mass of her brown hair falling over her face.
“Are you okay?”
No one asked me that anymore.
I shook my head, squeezing my eyes closed to avoid the bright lights of passing traffic. Rushing cars and the low thrum of the restaurant’s air compressor provided dull background noise, soothing the pounding in my head from relentless voices.
“Does this happen a lot?”
“It’s been a while since it caught me off guard. Usually, I can fake my way through it. Part of the job.” I shrugged. “Expecting it makes it easier.” Gravel caught in my throat; forcing the words past it burned.
“That makes sense. Do you need water? Or gum, or… something?”
I laughed, startled at the offer.
