And I panicked. I pulled away from him, my eyes blinking wide open. “Wait.”
He gazed into my eyes, giving me that sleepy-eyed look that was making my stomach do somersaults. “What is it?”
“We can’t do this.”
He chuckled. “Well, not here, we can’t. But nothing’s stopping us from going home and picking up where we leave off.”
“No,” I breathed, and I hated that I had to say it. Hated. I put my hand on his chest. Oh god, he had such a good chest, too. “I mean we can’t do this. We can’t hook up. Not right now.”
Ty blinked at me, as if just now registering my protest. The hand—warm, delicious, big hand—fell away from my inner thigh. “Let me guess. Bad luck?”
It was all that, and more. “We’re just doing so well right now as a pair. I don’t want to change the dynamic and somehow screw up both of our chances.”
Because if we had sex and it was bad? Everything changed. Awkward afterward? Everything changed. Really really great and we wanted to spend the next week in bed? Everything changed. Or if one of us was bad and the other was good? Again, everything changed. No matter how you factored it, sex changed things, and we were in the middle of a competition. We needed to stay the course, not add another aspect to navigate.
He considered me for a long moment, and then gave a heavy sigh. “As much as I hate to say it, you’re right.”
Part of me was relieved that he wasn’t going to fight me on it. Part of me was also…disappointed. He gave in that easily? “I am?”
“Yeah. You and I are both athletes. We know from past experience how sex can fuck up a competitive angle.”
Well, one of us knew that, at least. “Exactly.”
Ty shifted away from me on the bench, and his mouth quirked into a wry smile. “I’m glad one of us has their head on straight, at least. I get it, Zara. We hang in there and keep things going as they are.”
“Right,” I said, hoping I sounded more convincing to him than to myself. “Staying in the competition and fixing our careers is the most important thing right now.”
He poured another sake shot for both of us, and then lifted his up. “To careers and second chances.”
I clinked mine to his and hoped I hadn’t just made another decision I’d regret for the rest of my life.
CHAPTER TEN
How am I getting along with Zara? Fuckin’ great. She’s pretty awesome. If it weren’t for this ice skating bullshit, I’d say I could hang out with her all the time and not get bored. — Ty Randall, Practice Interview, Ice Dancing with the Stars
~~ * ~~
A horrible buzzing sounded in my ear like a thousand mosquitos were dive-bombing my brain. It throbbed and ached, and I groaned, pulling a pillow over my head and wishing I could somehow stuff it into my cranium. The buzzing continued.
I fished around in the muddle of my blankets, looking for the source of the infernal buzzing that was making my head ache so badly. My fingers located my phone, set to vibrate, and I squinted at the screen, recoiling at how bright it was.
Naomi.
Ugh. Why was she calling so early? I clicked to answer, raising the phone to my ear, and licked my lips. My tongue felt like a paper towel. “Hello?”
“Wow. Did I just wake you up?” She sounded surprised.
“What’s up?” I asked sleepily, wondering why she was talking so loud. Why was everything so damn loud this morning?
“You tell me?” She chuckled, and the noise hurt. I pulled the phone away from my ear an inch, wincing. “I’m on time.”
I frowned into my pillow. “On time?” Something wasn’t registering.
“You know. Our lunchtime call? Check in with each other, see how our bestie is doing?”
I rubbed a hand on my face. “Lunchtime?” Horror set in, and I bolted upright in my bed, immediately regretting it. My head swam and my stomach lurched. I fought nausea and scanned the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was unplugged. Ugh. Had I done that last night? I held my phone away from my ear and hung up the call just to see the time pop up.
12:06 PM.
Shit!
Scrambling out of bed, I surged toward my closet…and immediately staggered to my knees. Oh god. Oh…that was not good. I was going to barf. My stomach heaved, and I curled into a ball, waiting it out.
The phone began to vibrate again, buzzing. It fell off the edge of the bed, and I crawled over to pick it up. Licking my lips, I answered again. “Hello?”
“Dude, you hung up on me! What the hell?”
Naomi again. “Oh. Sorry.” I put a hand to my forehead. “I’m not thinking so clearly right now.”
“Are you sick? Do you want me to call a doctor?”
“Not sick,” I told her. “Hung over.” My first one. Now I saw why I didn’t drink. I never wanted to again, either. I felt awful. And I’d missed a half a day of practice. Ty was going to kill me.
I peered at my shut door. Where was Ty? Why hadn’t he woken me up?
“Hung over? Holy crap, girl. You never drink! Hollywood’s definitely changing you.” Naomi sounded amused.
“No, it’s not. Ty and I went out drinking to celebrate how well we did last night. That’s all.”
“Oooh, a date?”
I thought back to the kiss—the hot, delicious, incredibly sinful kiss—and gave a long, gusty sigh. “Not really. We’re not dating. Can’t. Not during competition.”
“But you’d date him if you weren’t competing? Really? Ty the MMA Biter?” She sounded shocked. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll like, bite your clit off or something if he goes down on you?”
I crossed my legs and winced. “Ow, and no. He’s not like that. He just made a mistake and it fucked him up. You know, like what happened to me.”
“You walked off. You didn’t bite off half of someone’s nose.”
“Yeah, but fighting is different,” I told her. “The other guy was stomping the shit out of him and pulling fouls, so he got mad. I understand getting mad. And he’s totally gentle with me.”
“Just be careful is all I’m saying.” Naomi sighed. “You’re so fragile and all.”
Oh barf. “I’m not fragile, you dingaling. You of all people should know that.”
“You guys did skate super well the other night,” she admitted. “And using Jaws? That was a stroke of genius.”
“Thank you,” I said and smacked my lips. God, I had an awful taste in my mouth. “Listen, Nay, I need to go. I’m late for practice and I’m gross. Can I call you later?”
“Sure, girl,” she said, and she sounded incredibly amused. “I’d say ‘take it easy,’ but we both know you won’t.”
“Bye, Nay.” I hung up the phone and let it drop to the floor, curling up on the carpet for a moment longer. Ugh. I felt so awful. I needed to get up and skate, though. We’d lost half a day already.
Dragging myself to my feet, I swiped at my mouth with the back of my hand. Shower first. Then I’d feel better.
I almost made it to the bathroom before I puked up last night’s sushi.
He gazed into my eyes, giving me that sleepy-eyed look that was making my stomach do somersaults. “What is it?”
“We can’t do this.”
He chuckled. “Well, not here, we can’t. But nothing’s stopping us from going home and picking up where we leave off.”
“No,” I breathed, and I hated that I had to say it. Hated. I put my hand on his chest. Oh god, he had such a good chest, too. “I mean we can’t do this. We can’t hook up. Not right now.”
Ty blinked at me, as if just now registering my protest. The hand—warm, delicious, big hand—fell away from my inner thigh. “Let me guess. Bad luck?”
It was all that, and more. “We’re just doing so well right now as a pair. I don’t want to change the dynamic and somehow screw up both of our chances.”
Because if we had sex and it was bad? Everything changed. Awkward afterward? Everything changed. Really really great and we wanted to spend the next week in bed? Everything changed. Or if one of us was bad and the other was good? Again, everything changed. No matter how you factored it, sex changed things, and we were in the middle of a competition. We needed to stay the course, not add another aspect to navigate.
He considered me for a long moment, and then gave a heavy sigh. “As much as I hate to say it, you’re right.”
Part of me was relieved that he wasn’t going to fight me on it. Part of me was also…disappointed. He gave in that easily? “I am?”
“Yeah. You and I are both athletes. We know from past experience how sex can fuck up a competitive angle.”
Well, one of us knew that, at least. “Exactly.”
Ty shifted away from me on the bench, and his mouth quirked into a wry smile. “I’m glad one of us has their head on straight, at least. I get it, Zara. We hang in there and keep things going as they are.”
“Right,” I said, hoping I sounded more convincing to him than to myself. “Staying in the competition and fixing our careers is the most important thing right now.”
He poured another sake shot for both of us, and then lifted his up. “To careers and second chances.”
I clinked mine to his and hoped I hadn’t just made another decision I’d regret for the rest of my life.
CHAPTER TEN
How am I getting along with Zara? Fuckin’ great. She’s pretty awesome. If it weren’t for this ice skating bullshit, I’d say I could hang out with her all the time and not get bored. — Ty Randall, Practice Interview, Ice Dancing with the Stars
~~ * ~~
A horrible buzzing sounded in my ear like a thousand mosquitos were dive-bombing my brain. It throbbed and ached, and I groaned, pulling a pillow over my head and wishing I could somehow stuff it into my cranium. The buzzing continued.
I fished around in the muddle of my blankets, looking for the source of the infernal buzzing that was making my head ache so badly. My fingers located my phone, set to vibrate, and I squinted at the screen, recoiling at how bright it was.
Naomi.
Ugh. Why was she calling so early? I clicked to answer, raising the phone to my ear, and licked my lips. My tongue felt like a paper towel. “Hello?”
“Wow. Did I just wake you up?” She sounded surprised.
“What’s up?” I asked sleepily, wondering why she was talking so loud. Why was everything so damn loud this morning?
“You tell me?” She chuckled, and the noise hurt. I pulled the phone away from my ear an inch, wincing. “I’m on time.”
I frowned into my pillow. “On time?” Something wasn’t registering.
“You know. Our lunchtime call? Check in with each other, see how our bestie is doing?”
I rubbed a hand on my face. “Lunchtime?” Horror set in, and I bolted upright in my bed, immediately regretting it. My head swam and my stomach lurched. I fought nausea and scanned the alarm clock on the nightstand. It was unplugged. Ugh. Had I done that last night? I held my phone away from my ear and hung up the call just to see the time pop up.
12:06 PM.
Shit!
Scrambling out of bed, I surged toward my closet…and immediately staggered to my knees. Oh god. Oh…that was not good. I was going to barf. My stomach heaved, and I curled into a ball, waiting it out.
The phone began to vibrate again, buzzing. It fell off the edge of the bed, and I crawled over to pick it up. Licking my lips, I answered again. “Hello?”
“Dude, you hung up on me! What the hell?”
Naomi again. “Oh. Sorry.” I put a hand to my forehead. “I’m not thinking so clearly right now.”
“Are you sick? Do you want me to call a doctor?”
“Not sick,” I told her. “Hung over.” My first one. Now I saw why I didn’t drink. I never wanted to again, either. I felt awful. And I’d missed a half a day of practice. Ty was going to kill me.
I peered at my shut door. Where was Ty? Why hadn’t he woken me up?
“Hung over? Holy crap, girl. You never drink! Hollywood’s definitely changing you.” Naomi sounded amused.
“No, it’s not. Ty and I went out drinking to celebrate how well we did last night. That’s all.”
“Oooh, a date?”
I thought back to the kiss—the hot, delicious, incredibly sinful kiss—and gave a long, gusty sigh. “Not really. We’re not dating. Can’t. Not during competition.”
“But you’d date him if you weren’t competing? Really? Ty the MMA Biter?” She sounded shocked. “Aren’t you afraid he’ll like, bite your clit off or something if he goes down on you?”
I crossed my legs and winced. “Ow, and no. He’s not like that. He just made a mistake and it fucked him up. You know, like what happened to me.”
“You walked off. You didn’t bite off half of someone’s nose.”
“Yeah, but fighting is different,” I told her. “The other guy was stomping the shit out of him and pulling fouls, so he got mad. I understand getting mad. And he’s totally gentle with me.”
“Just be careful is all I’m saying.” Naomi sighed. “You’re so fragile and all.”
Oh barf. “I’m not fragile, you dingaling. You of all people should know that.”
“You guys did skate super well the other night,” she admitted. “And using Jaws? That was a stroke of genius.”
“Thank you,” I said and smacked my lips. God, I had an awful taste in my mouth. “Listen, Nay, I need to go. I’m late for practice and I’m gross. Can I call you later?”
“Sure, girl,” she said, and she sounded incredibly amused. “I’d say ‘take it easy,’ but we both know you won’t.”
“Bye, Nay.” I hung up the phone and let it drop to the floor, curling up on the carpet for a moment longer. Ugh. I felt so awful. I needed to get up and skate, though. We’d lost half a day already.
Dragging myself to my feet, I swiped at my mouth with the back of my hand. Shower first. Then I’d feel better.
I almost made it to the bathroom before I puked up last night’s sushi.
