Defenseman No. 9 - Xavier Neal Page 0,97
you to see someone. Even if it’s just for one session.”
“Okay.”
His unexpected surrender has me beaming adoringly. “Okay.”
Silence momentarily bounces between us, and for the first time since our fight, peace settles back into my system.
“Thank you for coming to see me tryout,” I quietly say. “I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, well you can thank the Vlasta girls for that one,” he openly confesses. “Had they not showed up on my doorstep and demanded I be here, I’m not sure I would’ve come to the conclusion I should’ve been.” There’s no time to ask for details due to him continuing, “Or, to the conclusion that the right thing was to not take the offer in New York.”
“What?!”
“Ooo,” Crash winces, tone doing its best to remain light, “yeah, not loving that tribute to Lil’ Jon, Boo.”
My head tilts in obvious discontent. “Crash.”
“I nailed the audition…”
“Of course, you fucking did. You’re a phenomenal dancer.”
“Thanks for always noticing.” He winks. “I nailed it, but after being verbally roughed up by the girl crew – who, side panel, are a force to be fucking reckoned with – I really thought about what it would cost me if I took it. Fuck, what it cost me to fucking even get the shot. I missed your birthday brunch, Boo. Your. Birthday. Brunch. You ask for so little already, and then the one thing you did ask for, I brushed off for dance. I started thinking and realize you have always come second to dance, yet never once asked me to come second to anything. I like to believe dance will always be there; however, the truth is it might not. But, you will. You’ll always be there. You’ve always been there. And, for once in my life, I wanna put you first. So, I said thank you, no thank you.”
“Crash…”
“We’re gonna spend this year together having a bunch of hot crazy sex. I’m gonna come see you play – if you want – sit next to Tatum and Poppy in my jersey and scream proudly at the games. Then, we’ll graduate together and discuss what we wanna do next and where.”
My heart swells in joy, but instinct to defend his dreams continues to nag annoyingly. “What if that was your big break?”
“It wasn’t,” he confidently counters.
I lift my eyebrows in a request for more information.
“The big break that’s meant for me would never cost me you.”
A mixture of a swoon and possessive grumble rumble in my throat.
“Now, there was mention of a BBQ…,” the corner of his lip kicks upward, “but I need a different bone between my lips first.”
Redness heats my cheeks at the same time I state, “Alright, but it’s gotta be in the shower, baby. I need to rinse off, and I can’t be late. I’m in charge of bringing something…,” my head bobs around in search of the right spoiler free word, “special.”
“Deal,” Crash instantly agrees and abandons my hold to stroll over to the passenger side. “I don’t mind playing a quick game of drop the soap…”
“We use liquid soap.”
“That just makes the game easier, Boo.”
More color creeps into my cheeks causing me to shake my head.
I like the plan Crash suggested for this last year in college, but what I really love is that it revolved around us.
The notion of us.
That, for the first time, it really feels like we’re both willing and ready to work for a shared partnership rather than something one-sided.
I know he mentioned doing a lot of things for me and being there for me, but I would never let him give himself up so easily. We’ll be there for each other from this point forward. Dance showcases for me. Hockey for him. Dates around his friends or mine. Charity events, birthdays, weddings…whatever.
We’ll be there together because we’ll always be on the same team for the shit that truly matters.
Epilogue
About Eight Years Later…
The sound of the front door closing is, promptly, proceeded by little feet clunking quickly across the floor.
I swear those girls were born with some sort of new age lead that allows for the same loud noise but quicker movement.
“Papa Bear! Papa! Bear” They squeak out in tandem, little three-year-old frames covered in matching neon leotards barreling straight for me.
In one effortless swoop, I scoop them up for a round of overdue hugs.
All hugs are overdue when it comes to my girls.
They could, literally, stop hugging me and two seconds later hug me again and that would be too long. I know it’s ridiculous, but if