“You pull your groin?” Carter asks as I straighten and rub at the throbbing spot. “How’d you do that?”
The tips of my ears burn, the back of my neck growing damp, especially when Adam’s eyes meet mine. He hasn’t said a single word to me about New Year’s Eve. Is it possible he forgot, or am I just dense enough to hope so?
Cara promised not to tell anyone, but only on the caveat it was a one-time thing. She was all for it being ongoing but said she wouldn’t be able to keep her mouth shut if it was. I’m surprised she kept her promise. Emmett’s been floating around me for the last week without a clue in the world I’ve had any of my body parts inside Jennie.
“I slipped on ice,” I finally explain, or lie, depending on how you look at it. “Yeah, I slipped, and my legs, they went, like—” I make finger-legs with my pointer and middle fingers, then split them, because apparently, I’m under the impression I slipped requires a visual, “—this. So…yeah. Hurts.”
“Jennie’s got this awesome massage thingie,” Carter says. “I call it the thumper. It beats the shit out of your sore muscles. You should borrow it.”
“I’ll definitely do that, yeah. I’ll borrow her thumper.” Wish I could stop my head from bobbing.
“Get her to show you how to use it. You’re gonna be moaning nonstop.”
Uh-huh. Definitely.
I’m still searching for a response when Adam asks, “What’s the line again?” He fixes his cuffs, eyes moving over himself in the mirror. He’s dressed in all black and looks sharp as fuck.
“My name is Jaxon Riley, and I have a hockey butt,” Jaxon answers.
Adam clears his throat. “My name is Adam Lockwood, and I have a hockey butt.”
I snort. “Add a little flair, at least.”
“Yeah, it’s like this.” Carter rests his palm on the mirror again, looking over his shoulder. “My name is Carter Beckett, and I have a hockey butt.”
“It’s more like this.” I clear my throat and wiggle my shoulders, getting into position, one hand on the knot of my tie, the other on my hip. “My name is Garrett Andersen—” I peek over my shoulder, “—and I have a hockey butt.”
Carter shoves me out of the way with his hip. “My name is Carter Beckett,” he murmurs, husky and low. He swings his head over his shoulder, eyes hooded as his hip juts, sliding one hand over his right butt cheek. “And I have a hockey butt.”
I flip up the tail of my suit jacket and squat low, casting a heavy, heated glare over my shoulder. It’s the kind I reserve for luring Jennie to the bedroom. “My name is Garrett Andersen…” I bounce into my squat, hand moving in a circle over my butt cheek, and pump my brows. “And I have a hockey butt.”
“Damn,” Carter murmurs, head bobbing slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s it.”
“This is great,” Susie says, snapping photo after photo of a team of hockey players dropping into squats, popping their hips, patting their own asses. “You guys are so fun and candid. We should get a couple of group shots, and then the videographer will pull you aside one by one.”
She steps up to me, reaching for my tie.
“Is my tie loose again?” I shove my hands in my pant pockets as she starts fiddling with the knot.
She giggles. “I don’t know how it keeps happening.”
Me neither, because the only person who keeps touching it is her.
“This suit looks really good on you.”
“Thanks. I like it. It’s super comfy.” It’s the performance stretch-tech. Tapered waists and legs, but enough space and stretch to accommodate our thick thighs and—you guessed it—hockey butts.
“You’re really tall. How tall are you?”
“Six three,” I answer, ignoring Carter and Jaxon’s snickers.
“Wow,” Susie murmurs wondrously.
I point at Adam, trying to deflect her attention. She’s sweet, but I’m not trying to give her any wrong ideas. “He’s six-five.”
She barely spares him a glance. “Yeah, he’s so big. So, is your girlfriend tall too?”
“Um, I…” I scratch my nose. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” It’s not a lie, but it feels like one.
Her face brightens. “Oh.”
“Do you have a boyfriend?” Carter asks, sauntering over, annoying grin on his annoying face.
Susie shakes her head, grinning expectantly at me, and Carter swings an arm around my shoulders, jerking me into his side.
“Well, isn’t this fun. You’re both single, and Garrett’s looking to get into the dating game. Right, buddy?”
Well, fuck me sideways. This isn’t good.
Pregnant women are scary.
Jennie’s got, like, half a foot on Olivia, and she’s still trying to disappear into the couch, flinching away from Olivia’s glare.
“Would you stop looking at me like that?” Jennie finally shouts at her. “I get it, you don’t like the Christmas gift I got Carter! I’m not trying to die today!”
Olivia gestures aggressively to where Carter is standing in the center of their living room with a microphone, singing the words that scrawl across their TV. “Two weeks, Jennie! He’s been singing every day for two weeks!”
“Well, they were on a road trip for five—” Jennie clamps her mouth shut at the murderous expression on Olivia’s face. “Yeah, got it. Two weeks. Karaoke machine was a terrible idea.”
Jennie and Cara share a wide-eyed look, trying not to laugh, but when Carter turns around and captures Olivia’s hand, tugging her to her feet and spinning her around while he sings “Kiss the Girl” from The Little Mermaid, they burst with laughter.
“Okay, Jennie,” he heaves when the song is done, swiping at the sweat on his brow. “You and me. Frozen?”
“Fuck yes!” She leaps from the couch, grabbing a second microphone, and I don’t know what the fuck has happened to my life that I’m a twenty-six-year-old man spending a rare free Friday night watching my friends sing Disney karaoke.
And yet I wouldn’t change a thing. There’s just something about the way Jennie looks so utterly free and at ease, like she feels in her element here with these people, free to be herself.
“Sometimes,” Olivia sighs, “it’s like there are two of them.”
I pat her hand. “And you’re about to add one more. So brave of you, Liv.”
“I need help. So much help.”
I chuckle. “Can I grab you something, little mama?” She’s snuggled into the couch, managing to look both uncomfortable and comfy as hell. Her baby belly is cute, but for such a little person, it sure takes up a lot of her, and I’m certain she’s hurting.
“I would love a tea and my Oreos. Carter put the cookies on top of the fridge where I can’t reach, and the tea bags are in the pantry.”
Adam ambles over to me in the kitchen while I’m getting the kettle ready, looking awkward as hell, and a little scared too.
“Look, buddy,” he starts cautiously. “I love you.”
“Love you, too, man.”
“I want you to be happy,” he tries again.
“Thanks, buddy. Appreciate that.” I pour the steaming water over the tea bag, watching as it changes colors. “I want you to be happy too.”
“Uh, right. But in order to be happy, you have to, uh…” He runs an anxious hand through his hair, eyes darting around the room before he leans close and whispers, “Stay alive.”
I resist the urge to laugh, only because his concern is genuine, and also because not dying is preferable. Truthfully, I’m surprised it took him this long to bring up. I bet he’s been stewing all week.
I steal a quick glance around the room. Everyone’s busy, and most importantly, Carter’s still singing. “Look, it was only the once. It won’t happen again.” Lying to Adam feels weird. I don’t like it.
“It shouldn’t have happened at all,” he whisper-yells. “You made a mistake!”