Chapter 15

“Peggy? I thought you were going for coffee.” Dad approaches the table. “Where’s your friend? Did he leave already?”

Hollis lags behind, his phone in his hand. He frowns and slips it back in his pocket without responding to my message. My stomach flip flops with fresh guilt over the secrets I’m keeping from him, but my anger overrides it.

The girls are still pinging the hell out of me.

“He’s in the bathroom.”

“So he left you out here on your own,” Hollis says.

I give him a look. How else was he supposed to go to the bathroom, Hollis? He has the gall to still be gorgeous while also smug.

“Maybe you two should go somewhere else,” I suggest, but I’m too late.

“Oh, man. Roman Hammerstein.” Jameson wipes his hand on his pants and extends it. “Jameson Grover. I’m friends with Aurora.” His smile is fairly manic. “Sir, it’s an honor.”

Oh my God. This isn’t happening.

Hollis’s eyes slide to Jameson, and if looks could kill, my coffee date would be nothing but a pile of ash.

“Jameson, it’s a pleasure. Peggy has such nice things to say about you.”

“Dad,” I warn.

“What? You’ve talked about Jameson plenty of times at the dinner table. Always nice things to say. Isn’t that right, Hollis?” Dad elbows him in the arm.

“Uh-huh.” Hollis pokes his cheek with his tongue.

“Do you want to join us?” Jameson asks. “There’s more than enough room.”

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Hollis slides into the booth across from me.

“Great. Awesome. This is just—wow.” Jameson is about to jizz in his pants.

Hollis looks like he’s plotting murder and evil things, and I’m so pissed—but also he’s so fucking hot, and I hate it. My dad seems genuinely pleased to meet my date and completely oblivious to how awkward it’s all become.

I fire off another text to the group:

Aurora

My dad and Hollis crashed my date.

And my date invited them to join us.

And they said yes.

I kick Hollis’s shin under the table. We are so having words after this. Angry words. What the hell is he playing at?

He shrugs out of his jacket, drapes it over his lap, and smirks.

Rainbow comes over with our meals. “Oh! Your dads are here! How cute is this?”

“We’re just friends,” says Hollis and my dad at the same time.

“Of course.” Rainbow winks and turns to me, dropping her voice to a whisper. “They’re so cute together.”

I make a heart with my fingers. “Aren’t they, though?”

Rainbow makes the heart back. “I ship your dads so hard.”

I’d like to ship my dad’s best friend hard.

Jameson looks super confused.

“I’ll bring you coffee and menus,” she tells them. “Unless you both want the usual.”

“The usual is good,” Dad and Hollis say in unison.

“I’ll take a beer instead of coffee, though,” Hollis adds.

“Make that two,” Dad agrees. He gives me a disapproving look after she leaves.

I roll my eyes. “Let her have her fantasy.”

“I didn’t know you two were…” Jameson trails off.

“We’re not,” Dad says.

“I love pussy,” Hollis says flatly.

“Hollis.” Roman elbows him.

I nearly spray him with my coffee. I swear, Hollis is entirely unhinged right now, and I don’t even know what to do about it.

I kick him under the table, hard. Except I’m the one who flinches because I wore a stupid pair of cute flats and not practical winter boots as the weather would suggest.

He doesn’t so much as blink. “That was crass. I’m a cisgender, heterosexual male. I can’t speak for Roman, but we’ve been friends for a long time.”

“Right. Yeah. It would be totally cool if you were gay, though. I have a younger brother who is. And my aunt is married to a woman,” Jameson says helpfully.

“Hemi has two moms,” I add. Just to be part of the conversation, I guess.

“You two should dig in. Don’t wait for us.” Dad grins and reclines in his seat.

Hollis stretches his leg into my space. I’m about to kick him again, but then I remember it’s the right one, and he often does this because it’s more comfortable post-surgery.

“Do you want some waffle? We can get extra plates, so you don’t have to wait,” Jameson offers.

He’s so excited about eating with Roman Hammerstein and Hollis Hendrix. This further confirms that Jameson and I are destined to be friends only. He’s not surly enough, or old enough, or Hollis enough.

I’m so screwed.

My dad and Jameson start talking hockey, of-fucking-course. It’s not that I don’t love hockey talk, but now my date is fawning all over my dad. It’s annoying.

And my phone is blowing up. I have twenty-seven new messages in the Badass Babe Brigade chat.

Several of them are surprised and dying GIFs.

Rix messages in our private texts:

Rix

If he’s going to fuck with you, you should fuck with him back.

She makes a good point.

Hollis is ruining my date. Probably on purpose.

Aurora

He can’t take a bite out of his cake, tell his cake it was a mistake, and refuse to let anyone else eat it.

Rix

Agree. What are you going to do about it?

What am I going to do about it?

My dad and Jameson are still yammering away. I dump maple syrup all over my sausages and stab one with my fork.

Hollis eyes me with amusement. I take an angry bite.

“Honey, your knife,” Dad mutters, then goes back to talking to my date about first draft picks this season. Normally I love draft talk, but right now I’m beyond frustrated. Because I’m hiding things from my dad for one, but also, the hockey player sitting across from me is the one I’d love to be on a date with, and instead Hollis’s sabotaging the one he explicitly told me to go on.

As anticipated, my dad’s and Hollis’s meals appear a minute after their beers. They’re regulars, and everyone loves them, and Rainbow ships them. Hollis digs into his poached-egg breakfast hash, while I cut my sausages into tiny bite-sized pieces and occasionally offer my thoughts when they’re asked for by my dad or Jameson.

Hollis agrees with everything I say, especially if it contradicts Jameson. It’s irksome.

I drop my shoe on the floor and slide my foot up his calf. His gaze lifts from his plate. I keep going up the inside of his thigh. And all the while, my date and my dad keep blabbering on about who knows what. Part of me wonders if Jameson actually wanted to go out with me, or if it was an excuse to meet my dad and maybe score tickets to a game. It wouldn’t be the first time.

My big toe brushes against Hollis’s jacket, which is still draped over his lap. And I keep going. I don’t know what the hell I’m thinking, but I’m committed to this stupid, dangerous course of action.

Hollis’s gaze shifts to my dad and Jameson—neither of them is paying attention to us—and moves back to me as his hand disappears under the table. I fully expect him to shove my foot away, but that’s not what happens. At all. Instead, he moves it between his very warm, very thick, very strong thighs and presses it against the exceptionally prominent bulge behind his fly.

His coat covers his lap. We’re tucked into a booth in the very back corner of the diner. No one can see what’s happening under the table.

I can’t believe what’s happening under the table.

Hollis better not have a foot fetish. At least I think I hope he doesn’t have a foot fetish. I mean, I’m not opposed to foot rubs, but I don’t want to give him the foot version of a handy. Or have him try to stick his foot in my lady business. That’s definitely not my kink. But having him hold my foot against his hard cock under the table with my dad and my date right beside us might very well do it for me based on the way my nipples tighten and everything clenches below the waist. Also, my toes curl.

“What do you think, Pegs?”

“Huh?” My gaze snaps to my dad.

“Bowman’s having a great season with New York, but so is Grace. Who’s a more likely trade?”

“Grace. He’s a hothead on the ice, and Bowman is methodical and levelheaded. If they’re willing to trade one player, it’ll be Grace, but only if it’s evenly matched.”

“But Grace has more years on the ice,” Jameson argues.

“That’s one factor.” Hollis gives his two cents. “But it’s about more than experience. Bowman is all about the team, and Grace has been known to pull stupid moves because his ego demands it.” Hollis’s thumb slides between my foot and his bulge, and he runs it firmly along my instep.

I cough into the crook of my elbow to cover my moan. His hands feel huge.

“Hollis makes a good point.” Dad glances at my plate. “Is your appetite still off, honey?”

I look down. All I’ve managed to eat is one maple-syrup-drenched sausage. “Oh, uh, no. Just savoring today, I guess.”

Hollis taps the top of my foot. His hand reappears as I drop my foot and slip it back into my shoe, but not before my toe lands in a wet spot on the floor.

I spend the rest of my date trying to eat while my stomach flip-flops all over the place. There is definitely a conversation coming with Hollis. My dad pays for the entire meal and, because he can’t help himself, invites Jameson to a home game. Jameson is all smiles and excitement. As we finish up, Hollis stands off to the side with his hands in his pockets, looking as annoyed as I feel.

When we get back out to the sidewalk, Jameson hugs me, but thankfully doesn’t go in for any kind of kiss on the cheek with my dad and Hollis standing guard.

“I’ll text you later, okay?” He’s all shy smiles again.

“Yeah. Sounds good.”

I wave as he disappears down the stairs to the subway.

“He’s a nice young man,” Dad says.

“Yeah, you two got along like a house on fire.” He’s oblivious to my irritation, and everything else apparently, but I have bigger issues to deal with. Namely, his best friend.

“I have to run to the store and pick up a few things. Do either of you need anything?”

“Nope,” Hollis and I reply at the same time.

“Okay. If you think of anything, just message.”

He strides down the street, and Hollis and I walk silently back to our building. He holds the door open, and we don’t say a word until we’re alone in the elevator.

“What in the actual fuck, Hollis?”

He leans against the rail. “I didn’t know you were going to the diner.”

“This is about way more than the diner.” I cross my arms. “You don’t get to kiss me, tell me it’s a mistake, and shove me into the arms of someone else you deem more age appropriate, then act like a territorial ass and ruin the fucking date you sent me on!” I snap.

“You’re—”

I hold up a hand. “I’m not done.” The elevator stops, and the doors slide open.

An adorable elderly couple gets on with us. As usual, we talk about the weather. When we reach my floor, I give Hollis a pointed look, and he gets off the elevator with me.

“Do you have a foot fetish or something?” I whisper-hiss once the doors close behind us.

He raises an eyebrow. “Do you?”

“What? No. You were the one rubbing my foot on your dick, not the other way around.” I hate how good it felt to have him touching me though.

“You were playing footsies with me under the table,” he reminds me.

“You crashed my date, Hollis!” I’m so furious, and turned on, and confused. “You either want me or you don’t.”

The smirk slides off his face. “It’s not that simple, Princess.”

I stalk down the hall, and he falls into step beside me.

“Isn’t it, though? You can’t play head games with me. It’s not fair.”

“That’s not what I’m trying to do.”

“You’re saying one thing and doing the opposite. I’m pretty sure that’s the working definition of head games.”

“You don’t want to date that kid,” he grumbles.

It annoys me that he calls him a kid when Jameson and I are the same age. “You mean you don’t want me to date him.” I stop when I reach my apartment, then remember the girls are still there, waiting for a report. I can’t invite Hollis in to continue an argument that’s probably going nowhere good.

Hollis crosses his deliciously thick forearms across his equally thick chest. “You’re right. I don’t want you to date him. He’s too fame-smitten, and not smitten enough with you.”

He’s not wrong. Jameson spent the entire meal talking to my dad and not me. He didn’t even try to include me in the conversation much. That was all my dad, and only occasionally. Meanwhile, Hollis sat there, being gorgeous and doing bad things under the damn table with his best friend right beside him and my date across from him. The fucking nerve. “So what’s your plan? Are you going to vet every guy I date until you deem one worthy of my attention?”

“If that’s what it takes to make sure you don’t end up with an asshole, then yes.”

I prop my fist on my hip and lean in, eyes narrowed. My anger is made that much worse when I’m forced to rage-whisper because we’re still in the damn hall outside my apartment. “There’s one sure-fire way to ensure that.”

He gives me a dark look. “You know that can’t happen.”

I throw my hands in the air. My frustration is boundless. “You can’t keep saying that and then pull the shit you did today!”

His expression shifts, and his arms drop to his sides. Shame lurks behind his eyes. “I know.”

“Then why did you do it in the first place?” My heart aches so badly. He’s right here in front of me, but he’s so far out of reach. Sure, I’m lying to my dad and hockey players should be on my date-never list. Hollis just looks so earnest as he regards me. And I’m so angry at him for putting us in a box labeled don’t open when it’s clear he feels some type of way.

“I don’t fucking know, okay?” He runs a rough hand through his hair, messing it up, and kneads the back of his neck. “I saw you with that preppy little shit, and he was touching you, and you looked like this.” He flings a frustrated hand in my direction.

“Look like what?” He better not outfit-shame me. I look good, and my boobs are magical.

“Seriously?” His lip twitches. “You need me to spell it out for you?”

“Apparently.”

His eyes rake over me, hot like molten lava. “You look like every sin I want to commit, Princess. So, yeah, I acted without thinking.”

Of all the things I expected him to say, that wasn’t anywhere on the list. But all it does is fuel my anger-fire. “Is that supposed to make me feel better about you ruining the date you sent me on?” He wants me, I want him. Why can’t it be as simple as that?

“Yeah. No. I don’t know. I’m trying to be honest without blowing up my fucking life.” His nostrils flare. “You gotta stop making me admit this kind of shit. It’s not doing us any good.”

He’s shutting down again, and I know better than to keep pushing when he gets like this, but my half-broken heart won’t allow me to stay silent. He’s the worst man for me to be falling for, but this is where I am. I know we can’t be anything, but that doesn’t change what I want. “You can’t keep sabotaging my dates and saying shit like this, Hollis.”

“We’re at very different points in our lives, Aurora.”

And here comes the rationalizing. “That sounds like another bullshit excuse. What are you so afraid of?” I take a step closer. “I’m right here, telling you I want you.”

“It’s what you think you want right now.” He sighs.

There is nothing more infuriating than having him use the life-experience card like he knows what’s best for me. “And what about you, Hollis? What do you want?”

His eyes move over my face like a caress. “You’re killing me, Aurora.”

“Good, because this is agony, Hollis.” My voice cracks. To want someone so desperately but have them so far out of reach. Why can’t a nice boy like Jameson be enough?

“Please, don’t cry. Please.” His hand lifts, hovering for a second before he caves and his fingers brush my cheek.

I lean into the touch and raise my own hand to skim the back of his. Every part of me hums with desire and longing. It hurts to want him. “Do you feel this the way I do?”

“Yes,” he whispers.

“Then why are you fighting it?”

He leans in, and my heart stutters as his breath breaks against my lips. He changes course and skims my cheek with his mouth on the way to my ear.

His voice is a pained whisper. “I’m trying really hard not to screw shit up more than I already have today, and trust me when I say I know I fucked up in a lot of ways. I’m struggling here. And I know it’s not fair to you. It’s killing me, Aurora. But I’m losing the battle with my self-control. So please, before I do or say something to screw things up even more, or worse, say something that makes you cry again, I need you to go inside your apartment.”

“But—”

He drops his hand, and it grazes the length of my arm, his thumb skimming like a phantom kiss.

I lean back enough that I can see his face. His jaw tics. “Hollis?”

“Please.” His gaze shifts away. “I need this from you.”

The look on his face is the reason I stop pushing. Because I see all the things I feel—the frustration, the longing, the fear, the desire. And the echoing agony. At least I’m not alone.

“Okay. I’ll go inside.” I fumble for my key fob.

Hollis doesn’t move, just balls his hands into fists and watches me with an intensity that makes my knees weak.

I swipe it over the sensor and open the door.

“Be a good girl and stay home tonight,” he murmurs darkly.

“Yes, Daddy Hollis.” I slip inside, but not before I see his eyes trace my face one last time.

Rix, Tally, and Hemi are sitting in the living room. Dred has a shift at the library, so she’ll need to be filled in later. I hold a finger up and spin around, pressing my eye to the peephole.

I’m not disappointed. Hollis grips the doorframe, glaring back at me. He shakes his head, and my body lights on fire from the inside. He takes a deep breath and pries his hands free, nostrils still flared. Eventually he steps back and disappears down the hall.

God, that was intense. I turn to my friends.

“So? What the hell happened?” Hemi asks.

“My dad loves Jameson, and he loves my dad, and I think it would be better if they just dated each other at this point.”

Rix tries not to laugh. “So no second date?”

With a shake of my head, I sigh.

“Who was at the door?” Tally asks.

I scramble for a plausible fib. I don’t want to lie to Hemi and Tally, but I can’t tell them the truth about the Hollis situation. Not when everything is so…uncertain. So I give them the censored version. “I had it out with Hollis for crashing my date.”

“You got angry at Hollis?” Tally’s eyes are huge. “He’s kind of scary.”

“Not when you’ve known him as long as I have.”

“Did he feel bad?” Rix asks.

“Not bad enough to get a clue and leave.” I flop down on the couch. “I should have gone anywhere but the Pancake House.”

“Maybe you subconsciously went there because there was a chance your dad would do what he did, and you already knew this date would be a bust,” Hemi suggests.

“Fuck.” I hug the Puck Yeah! pillow on the couch. Hollis got it for me. Fucking Hollis. Fucking complicated bullshit. “I don’t know why I try to date university guys. It never works out.”

Tally bites her fingernail. “Because your dad and Hollis always crash your dates?”

“I wish that was the reason.” I sigh. “I don’t think Jameson had bad intentions, but he was so starstruck. And now he’ll look at me differently, and I’ll look at him differently.”

“You’ll find a guy who likes you for you,” Hemi says.

We all relax for a little while, but Tally still has homework, and she needs to be up early for dance practice, so Hemi takes her home.

Rix flops down on the couch beside me once they’re gone. “Should I ask what really happened, or is this one of those situations where the less I know the better?”

“I don’t even know what’s happening. It feels a lot like we’re planets orbiting each other, but the trajectory is off, and we’re either doomed to miss each other or crash and burn up.”

She nods. “Did he have an explanation for why he crashed the date?”

“He said I looked like every sin he wants to commit.”

“Damn. He’s fighting some real demons.”

“I want to be worth the risk because what if it worked out,” I admit.

“You are. Don’t ever doubt that. Men and fear are a tricky combination.”

“Isn’t that the truth?” I feel like I’m on a roller-coaster ride that won’t end.

We decide to watch a movie—a comedy with no romance, because I can’t deal with hearts and feelings—but my mind is all over the place.

Jameson texts to tell me he had a great time. I leave it unread. I need to let him down easy. That he has possible plans to move several hours away is a good reason for us to stay in the friend zone.

Later, as I’m getting ready for bed, my phone buzzes with a new message. My stomach flips as I open it.

Hollis

Walking away from you is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.