Page 133 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
“Yeah, I guess. I’ve never worked for them. But I was Patrick’s girlfriend for five years. I’ve met the owner and their head coach a bunch of times.”
I lick my upper lip. “Patrick has a big mouth. But he’s also a pretty shitty player. And that’s considering Houston recruited him, and it’s a terrible team.”
Juliet smothers a laugh. “Tell me how you really feel about him, Hux.”
Her nickname warms the hard knot in my chest, tempting it to ease.
“It’s true.” I snicker. “I’m saying that I bet there’s a rookie out there who’d kill for a shot to take his place. Someone quiet but talented, who needs somebody to hype him up. Someone who’d let you be the one to give it to him.”
She blinks, her expression shifting. “I... what?”
“If you chose one or two graduating seniors from college who aren’t already first or second draft picks, and you hyped them up to teams that you thought they would fit with, you’d make a killing off the deal. Plus, one of those rookies could replace your shitbag ex in the Stars lineup. See what I’m saying?”
“Maybe?” Her nose wrinkles. “That sounds like being an agent. I’m a PR girl.”
“It’s less about being an agent and more about making the right introductions, helping rookie players get in rooms that they wouldn’t normally be invited into.” I say it like it’s obvious, because it seems like it is. “I’m just saying if I had the time and connections, that’s what I would do.”
“And what about my PR dreams?”
“You’re great at PR. This would just be a littlebonus. You don’t even see how good you’ve got it, Juliet. Most people spend their whole lives looking for something they care about enough to fight for. You’ve got that, and you’re good at it.” I pause, hesitating. “Anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve you.”
I watch her process this, see the exact moment something cracks open in her chest. Because I’m not trying to tame her ambition or convince her to want smaller things. I’m encouraging her to wantmore. I’m talking about her ambition like it’s part of what makes her worth knowing.
She looks at me like she can’t believe I mean it.
But I do. Every word.
“You think I should go after Patrick’s spot?” she asks. There’s something sharp and interested in her voice now.
“I think you should go after whoever you want. Build your own empire. Show the whole fucking league what they have been missing out on. PR and talent, all in one package.”
Her mouth parts like she’s going to say something, then closes again. Instead of speaking, she slides closer to me, close enough that I can feel her heartbeat against my ribs.
I reach for her without thinking, my hand finding her face, thumb brushing across her cheekbone.
When I kiss her this time, it’s different. Slower. I feel like I’m trying to say something with my mouth that I don’t have words for.
It won’t be the last time. We both know that now. This thing between us has moved past the point of pretending it’s just convenient chemistry, just two people scratching an itch.
But I’ll never get enough of her. Never tire of the way she looks at me afterward, like I’ve given her something precious. I’ll stop wanting to be the reason she smiles.
It’s not just that I want her. I want her to look at me like I’m worth something. Maybe I want her to see past my flaws and see my strengths instead. I want her to see that maybe there’s something underneath all the anger and the reputation that’s worth keeping around.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks, her voice soft with exhaustion.
I flick a few strands of her wavy hair out of her eyes. Her hair is dark as a raven’s wing and soft as silk to the touch.
“Nothing important,” I lie.
Because how do I tell her she’s rewired my entire brain? I used to think I was only good for hockey and breaking things. Now I catch myself wondering what it would be like to wake up next to her every morning for the rest of my life?
How do I tell her that when she talks about her career ambitions, I don’t feel threatened or competitive? I feel proud. I want to clear the path for her, want to be the one standing behind her when she takes over the fucking world.
How do I tell her that Patrick was wrong about everything, but especially about the man who could handle being with her?
Because the right man wouldn’t want to come first. He’d want to be her partner. Her backup. The person she comes home to after conquering whatever she set out to conquer that day.
He’d want to be worthy of someone that fucking magnificent.
