Game Changer by Kelly Jamieson Page 0,6
tap in a few quick messages to my bridesmaids and to my mom and dad, not telling them where I am, just that I left and I’m fine.
I’m not really fine, but I have to say that.
“This is nuts.” I lay my head back. “I’m supposed to be celebrating right now.”
“Yeah.” We fall silent for a moment, then Jax says, “You should have seen the look on the officiant’s face when you read those messages.”
“ ‘I can’t stop thinking about fucking you?’ ”
“Yep.” He chuckles. “Holy shit, I thought his eyes were going to burst out of his head.”
I grin. “Well, I’m glad I provided some entertainment.”
“You had to know that was going to be crazy.”
“Oh yeah. I nearly changed my mind about doing it, but I was just so pissed.”
“I get it.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t tell him you bailed me out tonight.”
Jax lifts a shoulder. “Whatever.”
“I know he’s your teammate and your friend. I’m sorry I involved you in this.”
“It’s okay.” He meets my eyes. “I’m your friend, too.”
“Thanks.” My throat constricts.
“Uh…you want to stay here tonight?”
“Could I?” I bite my lip.
“Sure.” His voice sounds like he swallowed sand.
“I might need to borrow a few things.”
“Yeah. We’ll figure it out.” He pauses. “You hungry?”
“Not really. But I am kind of drunk, so I should probably eat something.”
“I don’t have much here. I’m leaving for California tomorrow.”
“Right.” I remember him mentioning something about traveling.
“I can order something in, though. Any preference?”
“It doesn’t matter to me.”
“I’ll get a pizza.” He pulls out his phone.
“Sounds good.”
He orders the pizza, then disappears into his bedroom. When he returns, he’s dressed in pair of well-worn jeans and a gray Chicago Aces T-shirt. He’s carrying some clothing. “Here.” He sets them on the couch next to me. “I know they’re not going to fit, but at least you can get out of that dress and be more comfortable.”
“Thanks.” I scoop up the clothes. “Is your fireplace gas or woodburning?”
“What?” He glances over at the wall. “It’s gas.”
“Damn. I was thinking we could have a dress burning.”
He laughs. “Guess not.”
I trudge to the bathroom where I study my reflection. My mascara is a bit smudged, but otherwise my subtle smoky eyes and blushed cheeks are still perfect. My hair is in an elaborate updo of loose loops and twists, with small white flowers and pearls woven through it. Gripping the marble vanity, I close my eyes as a wave of pain washes over me.
Since I got those texts last night, I’ve been a wreck. A nervous, heart-broken, nauseous mess. But I was also determined not to be a victim. I wanted to make a big, bold statement, and I did it. I hadn’t thought through the aftermath, though, and what would happen next.
Jax has given me a pair of plaid pajama bottoms with a drawstring waist I should be able to tighten, and a huge, soft T-shirt. He’s such a sweetheart.
Big problem though—I can’t get the little buttons on the back of my dress undone. I peer over one shoulder, then the other, nearly breaking my arms trying to do it.
I really don’t want to ask Jax for help. I mean, we’re friends, but he’s a guy, and this is…awkward.
Finally, sweaty and frustrated, I give up.
I walk out the living room where Jax still sits. “Sorry to bug you with this, but…I can’t get my dress undone.”
He looks over at me. “Oh.” He sets his glass down and rises.
I present him with my back. “The buttons are really small.”
“Yeah.” He clears his throat. “They are.”
The dress is off the shoulder, so the top of my back is bare. He moves up behind me, and his fingers brush over my skin as he starts to work on the tiny studs. I can feel his warmth and his focus as he opens each button, from the top down to my waist. The bodice loosens around me and I lift my hands to hold it in place.
Finally, he says hoarsely, “There you go.”
“Thank you.”
I hasten back to the bathroom, the dress now loose, my back entirely bare. I step out of it, leaving it in a pile on the tiled floor. I’m not wearing a bra, and my panties are white lace. The white lace that was supposed to be sexy for Steve when I first planned to wear them but which I knew he was never going to see when I put them on earlier today.
“Fuck him,” I mutter, pulling on Jax’s T-shirt. I tighten up the drawstring