The Game Plan
Page 8

As it is, I’m grumpy and chomping on a slice of buttered whole grain bread like I’m trying to annihilate it. Worse? Ivy is watching me.
Her dark eyes track my movements as I pick up my coffee and take a bracing drink. “You’re staring.”
“Well, duh.”
“Are you asking for me to ping you with this bread?” I say before taking another bite and talking with my mouth full. “Because I totally will.”
She looks semi-rested now. Her hair¸ at least, is washed and combed. And she smirks before drinking her orange juice. “Gray says you smelled like you’d rubbed yourself all over Dex last night.”
“Gray can sit on it and spin.” I swear, these two are the worst gossips.
She snorts into her glass. “Colorful. Now tell the truth, Fi-Fi. Were you rubbing yourself all over Dex?”
Like a cheap suit on a sultry day.
As if reading my thoughts, she leans her elbows on the table and gives me a sly smile. “He’s totally hot, in a bad-boy rocker kind of way. Which is weird considering his job.”
“Bashing into people?” I laugh without humor. “Yeah, totally bizarre that he looks like a bad boy.”
“Sarcastic is not a good look on you.”
I stick my tongue out at her.
“Spill, Fiona May.”
“Shit,” I drawl. “You pulled out the middle name. That’s harsh.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and waits.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
Unlike Ivy, I actually have a poker face. That’s one thing I learned from our dad. Never let them see you flinch.
But Ivy knows me well, so maybe I’m not fooling her. Or maybe she simply decides to give me a break, because she suddenly shrugs and grabs a slice of bread, slathering on blackberry jam.
“Dex is kind of…” She pauses, knife in mid-air. “Different.”
“Different?” Okay, I know he’s quiet. And obviously whip smart; he managed me with a deftness that scares me. But different?
Ivy sets her bread down, and her voice lowers. “He’s really sensitive. In a good way, but…Gray thinks he might be a Tebow.”
“What the fuck do you mean ‘a Tebow’?” And why am I so annoyed? “You mean that whole kneeling and praying thing?”
She leans forward. “No. A virgin.”
I swear all the blood rushes out of my face. “What? No way. He’s…well, he’s fucking hot.” Okay, that slipped. “And he…” I bite my lip to keep from saying he sure as hell didn’t kiss like a virgin.
Only it’s been so long since I kissed a virgin, I’m not sure how one kisses, or if the way someone kisses is even a marker of sexual experience. I mean, sex is a lot more than inserting peg A into slot B—at least it should be.
I cover my slip with another truth. “He’s got to be twenty-four. How on earth could he be a virgin? Is it for religious reasons?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t think he’s at all religious. Honestly, I don’t know why he’d be a virgin either. And it’s not something that Gray or his college teammates ever openly talked about, which is saying something.”
“Then maybe we shouldn’t be gossiping about it now.” I know I sound snappish, which is unfair to Ivy; we gossip about everything. But it feels wrong talking about Dex this way.
Ivy blinks as though I hurt her, and I feel worse. But then she gives a small nod as if she understands. “Look,” she says in a low voice. “I’m only mentioning it because… Hell. If you did fool around with him last night, or whatever, just be careful with him.”
I can’t help but laugh, though it hurts my throat. “What? Am I some sort of man-eater now?”
“No. Of course not. But Dex isn’t hookup material.”
“I think you should let Dex decide that for himself, seeing as he’s a grown man and all. And before you start in on me again, I’m not going to do anything with him. Jesus. We only hung out an hour at most.” And kissed like we were dying for it. “That’s all.”
Liar, liar, liar.
Ivy knows I am. I can see it in her eyes. Maybe motherhood has softened her, because she doesn’t push, only takes a sip of her coffee and goes silent.
For a long moment, I sit there, silent as well. Then my fingers start to tap on the table.
“How do you stand it?” I blurt out.
“What? Your weak little innocent act?” she asks with cheek.
I stick out my tongue. “Funny, bunny. I meant, well… How do you stand being left behind while Gray travels to all his games?”
We grew up with a dad who left his family to play professional basketball, then later as a sports agent. And we’ve dealt with it differently. Ivy is the fixer, always trying to soothe ruffled feathers.
Me? I went out and partied, cracked stupid jokes, and shut down any and all deeper connections. It’s worked so far, but seeing Ivy so gone on Gray and still she has to live this life? I don’t understand it.
Ivy’s long fingers wrap tight around her mug. “It was better when I could go with him. It sucks when we’re apart. I won’t lie about that, but…” She worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “I don’t know how else to explain it except to say that Gray is my heart. Life simply doesn’t work without him in it so…” She shrugs. “We do what we have to do during his season.”