It’s not right that people die in unfair ways. My mom never smoked a day in her life, but she died from lung cancer. Her parents smoked, and my dad did too. So, I guess I could blame them, but I don’t want that hate to consume me.
I don’t need it.
I have enough.
My eyes are on the TV, ignoring the pain that wants to drown me as I read the captions. Since Coach’s unexpected but understandable departure, our assistant coach, Phelps, has taken over. He’s a good dude—not like Coach, but good. So, we’ll see how the rest of the year plays out. I know Shelli and her mom—our team owner, Elli Adler—are looking for a replacement. Someone to continue the legacy of the Assassins.
We’ve been a force to be reckoned with since the days of Shea Adler, Lucas Brooks, Tate Odder, and Philip Anderson. Man, that was a team everyone wanted to be a part of. I was a kid, but even I could tell they were special. I know that Elli wants a team like that again, and with Shelli’s help, they’ve built a pretty damn good second-best.
But losing Coach could cause some issues. I kind of hope they don’t find a replacement yet; I don’t want any more change. Between my best friends getting married and knocking up their spouses, our coach quitting, and losing our goalie to a heart condition—and also some other shit I refuse to give light to—I’m good on change for the moment.
I need things to even out.
I need a distraction.
Problem is, the only distraction I want doesn’t want anything to do with me.
Aiden and Boon are deep into their discussion on strollers, so I know I can get away with pulling out my phone and Instagram-stalking. It’s pathetic, I know, but I can’t help myself. I lean back in my barstool, thankful for the high back of the chair so Aiden can’t see my screen. I go into my Instagram app and search for her name. Since I do this daily, her name comes up after only two letters. I click her profile, and I am embarrassed by how excited I am that she posted something new today.
In a pair of high-waisted leather pants, she’s also wearing a crop top with a thick buffalo plaid sweater over it. Her dark hair is up in a high, sleek ponytail that still touches her shoulders. Her makeup is so perfectly applied, with long black lashes that make her gray eyes pop in the photo. She wears dark purple lipstick that makes her lips more luscious than ever, and I’m breathless at the sight of her. She’s standing by a fountain at her college, her backpack on her arm and her foot up, showing off her red-bottomed boots.
The caption: Doing Boss Bitch Things.
Hell yeah, she is. I swallow hard as I gaze at the photo, taking in every detail and reminiscing about those lips on mine. That body in my arms. The feel of her ass in my hands. Her chest pressed to mine and my fingers tangled in her hair. The week of Aiden and Shelli’s wedding, I got my taste of her. Better yet, stole it.
I’ve been attracted to Aiden’s sister for a very long time. How could I not be? She’s utterly stunning. She not only works a full-time job; she goes to school full time. She’s funny. She’s quick to smile, and her eyes are always so bright and spectacular. I couldn’t help myself. We were at some dinner thing—there were a hundred of them—and I found myself waiting in the hall outside the bathroom with her.
I know she is attracted to me—it’s in her eyes—so I took my chance. I pulled her into my arms, and I kissed her. She kissed me back eagerly, and the rest of the week, whenever we found ourselves alone, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. That is, until she put on the brakes.
“Come on, Stella. We could have fun.”
I remember her eyes, glassy as she nodded. “We could, but do you plan on telling my brother about our fun?” I couldn’t believe she’d thrown Aiden at me. She might as well have thrown cold water on me instead. Aiden had made it known, loud and clear, I was to stay away from his sister. My eyes widened, and I didn’t know what to say. There was no way I was telling Aiden. I couldn’t tell him I was banging his sister because, at the time, that was all I could offer her. I’m not implying that has changed, but I know I’m not where I was, and that’s a good thing. I couldn’t tell her that at the time, though.
So, with her eyes blazing into mine, she told me, “Exactly. When you’re ready to tell him that you enjoy feeling up his sister and want to see where it goes, come find me. Until then, though, stay away and have a nice life.”