25
AM I WALKING FUNNY?
Olivia
DO YOU EVER HAVE THE feeling everybody is talking about you?
All morning, I’ve been telling myself that I’m just being paranoid, but the hushed whispers, the stares that follow me through the hall seem pretty telling.
That or Carter really is rubbing o on me, and I just assume everyone is obsessed with me.
I make a pit stop in the bathroom on the way back from my break to check my outt for the third time this morning in case there’s a hole or a giant stain.
Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if I were wearing a sign on my back that said, “I fucked Carter Beckett and I liked it,” especially when I exit the bathroom and see the football coach do a double-take.
“Miss Parker.”
“Hey, Mr. Bailey.” I swat his hand away when he rues my hair. He thinks it’s hilarious that I’m ve foot one and teach high school tness to a bunch of boys that tower over me. I think it’s hilarious that he’s balding at twenty-eight.
“How was your weekend?”
“Great. Fantastic. Awesome.” I could probably stop but my mouth keeps running. “It was super fun.” I got nailed so hard I felt it in my soul. “How was yours?”
His smirk is more irritating than Carter’s, only because it’s lacking the sexy. “I bet it was. Have a good day, Miss Parker.” He winks before heading upstairs, leaving me wondering about that comment as I push through the gym doors.
I’m moving a little slow today because, as I’ve said, I got fucked straight into the ground last night. And the kitchen counter. The couch. Against the front door. And, uh, on Carter’s lap in his car.
So, anyway, my legs are jelly, which means my senior boys are dressed and waiting for me when I stroll in ve minutes late.
“Miss Parkerrr, you’re late.”
“Are you limping? What kind of freaky shit did you get up to this weekend?”
I shove my nger in his face. “Watch it.” Sinking down to the bleachers, I kick my heels o and swap them for my runners. Wincing at the pain that runs up my right hamstring, I curl over my knees and grip my calves.
“Feeling sore, eh?” Brad grins down at me. “Musta been a killer weekend.”
“Mind your business,” I hiss, but take his hand when he oers it to me, pulling me o the bleachers. “Okay, let’s get—” I plant my sts on my hips, glaring at my boys, snickering behind their hands. “Are you seriously whispering about me while I’m standing right here?”
Travis Duke steps forward, phone out. “Miss Parker, is this you?”
“Is what me?” My own phone starts vibrating in my back pocket, and I ignore it, leaning into Travis, so I can get a look at— “Holy-fuck-shit. Oh my God.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and my hands y to my lips. I don’t know if it’s to keep more words from
spilling out or because I might vomit.
I rip Travis’s phone out of his hands.
“They’re great pictures. You look hot.”
“No wonder your legs hurt today. That guy’s fucking massive.”
“And you’re so tiny. Probably wrecked your—”
I slap a palm across the mouth that’s still talking, because please don’t nish the sentence. My phone won’t stop buzzing, my heart is thundering, and I can’t formulate a single thought other than oh fuck.
I yank out my phone, ready to hoof it across the gym, but instead I swipe across the screen and accept the call just to get it to stop fucking vibrating.
“I didn’t take you for a puck bun—”
“Don’t you dare,” I growl, reeling on Brad. He backs himself up against the wall, hands in the air as I step into him. “Finish that sentence and see what
happens, Brad, I dare you. I may be small, but I will put you in the ground and bury you six feet deep. Nobody will nd you, Brad. Nobody.”
A husky yet anxious chuckle is the only sound echoing o the empty gym walls right now, and it’s coming from my phone, which has somehow found its way on speaker. “Uh, Ollie?”
I turn o the speaker and slap my phone to my ear. “Carter?” Spinning away from the boys, I throw my magical nger up over my shoulder, because I sure as shit don’t miss the whispered words, Miss Parker, Carter Beckett, and fucking the favored ones.
“Hey. Hi. It’s, uh… yeah, it’s me. Carter… Beckett.” He breathes out a quiet fuck me that somehow manages to tip the corner of my mouth despite this entirely fucked-up situation, because he’s so adorable when he’s nervous. “Are you okay? I’m guessing… I mean, did you see the, um… pictures?”
Did I see the pictures?
“There’s an article too.” I scan Travis’s phone screen, rendered speechless by the sight before me. Me and Carter from every angle, knee-deep in a rigorous game of tonsil hockey on the sidewalk yesterday.
Carter sighs. “Yeah. The article. But… it’s… you look beautiful,” he tries.
Another sigh. “Are you… are you okay?”
I’m too busy reading this ridiculous gossip article to answer him.
Olivia? Is That You?
Remember back in December when Carter Beckett, captain of the Vancouver Vipers, dedicated a goal to the mysterious brunette and couldn’t keep his eyes off her the entire game? (Yes, Mr. Beckett, we all noticed!) They were seen later that night dancing the night away—a new recreational activity for Beckett—before she disappeared off our radar for several weeks. Well, she’s back, and we sure missed her.
Beckett, seen here with Olivia, last name unknown, stopping for some ultrasteamy PDA—in broad daylight, folks!—after wrapping up with an intimate lunch at West Oak on Sunday. I guess they missed the memo that Sunday is the Lord’s day.
Is Beckett finally ready to change his ways, or will old habits die hard?
Only time will tell if little Miss Olivia is enough to keep the man who can’t
be tamed interested.
Stay tuned!
“Ohmyshitfuck.” I shove Travis’s phone against his chest, bringing my shaky ngers to my mouth. Is Olivia enough? What the fuck? Stupid tears sting my stupid eyeballs, my heart rattling in my chest.
“Olivia?” Carter murmurs. “I’m sorry I’m not there with you for this. But it’s… it’s dierent, right? Even the article said so.”
The article said I might not be enough, that’s what it said.
“Hey,” he whispers. “Talk to me.”
I force myself to breathe. “I have a class right now, Carter. I’ll call you later, okay?” I end the call as soon as he gives me the okay, then turn back to my boys.
“Uh… do a… sit. Just sit. Five minutes. I need ve minutes.” I need more than ve minutes to get a handle on myself, but it’s a start.
Shutting myself in my oce, I pace back and forth. I’ve got over twenty text messages and half of them are from Cara. The latest one is a picture of me and Carter, except Cara’s drawn a heart around us and written hubba hubba across the top. I wish I could nd the humor in this situation, but right now I’m struggling. It’s ridiculous, I know. I was there yesterday; I knew pictures were taken.
Four texts from Carter come in rapid succession, and not even the ridiculous name he gave himself in my phone last night does much to ease the anxiety unfurling inside me.
World’s Sexiest Man: r u ok ollie???
World’s Sexiest Man: i’m sorry. i wish i could be with u right now.
World’s Sexiest Man: call me later??
World’s Sexiest Man: plz don’t be upset. now everyone knows. it’ll be ok. i’ll make it up 2 u. promise. *tongue emoji* *eggplant emoji* *peach emoji*
As if he won’t settle until he makes me smile, he sends one more.
World’s Sexiest Man: ur still my princess, even if ur mad at me 4 showing u off *kiss emoji* *heart emoji*
And then another message pops up.
Jeremy: Ur coming over for dinner tonight.
Apparently we have some catching up to do.
THE TENSION AT THIS DINNER table is more palpable than the steak I’m currently hacking apart.
I glance up to nd my brother’s glare locked on me. I scowl right back and keep on sawing, maybe a little more aggressively than necessary, because I want him to think he did a shitty job cooking these bad boys up. He didn’t. My steak is perfect.
“Overdone,” I murmur, just to piss him o.
“Like hell,” he scos.
“So,” my sister-in-law, Kristin, starts, eager to ease the hostility.
“Daddy’s mad at you, Auntie Ollie,” Alannah says matter-of-factly. “I dunno what for. Carter Beckett is everything.” She sets her fork down and starts ticking his excellent qualities o on her ngers. “He’s rich, he’s the best skater, he scores, like, a thousand goals, and he’s, like, the cutest boy in the whole world.”
I point my knife at her. “He’s funny, too, and his favorite cookies are Oreos.”
Alannah gasps. “Those are my favorite cookies!” Folding her hands together in prayer at her chin, she pouts. “Will you please tell your boyfriend that we have the same favorite cookies?”
He’s not my boyfriend, but I nod anyway. “Of course.”
“Does he like to dunk ’em in milk like me? Does he eat them whole? Or does he twist ’em apart and lick the icing o?” She twirls her ponytail around her nger, staring dreamily into space, eyes twinkling. “I wonder…”
“Well, you’ll never nd out, because you’ll never meet him.” Jeremy pushes back from the table, picking up his plate and mine, even though I’m not nished
yet. I lunge for it, but he spins away. “Auntie Ollie is breaking up with him.”
A loud, disbelieving, that’s-fucking-hilarious laugh escapes me. “Absolutely not.” First of all, tell that to Carter. Secondly, no. No freaking way. I like him, I have him, I want to keep him.
I should probably tell him that. Carter, not Jeremy. Because I was kind of stuck in freak-out mode all afternoon, had to have Cara talk me o a cli about pictures and meaningless articles, and then came right here. We haven’t had a chance to talk, and I know he’s worried about me.
Jeremy loads the dishwasher and slams it shut. It bounces back open and I snicker. The glare he shoots me is a nine out of ten on the menacing scale. I’d have done better.
Kristin touches my hand. “Don’t worry. I won’t let him hurt you.” Her voice drops. “And Carter Beckett is so sexy. I need all the gory details.” She pokes the inside of her cheek with her tongue. “All of them.”
“Kris!” Jeremy’s booming voice has us jumping. “Come on! No! You’re supposed to be on my side!” His arms are all ail-y. He looks desperate. I bite my
lip to keep from laughing.
“I’m always on your side, honey.”
“Thank y—”
“But there are no sides here. Olivia’s an adult. She can date whomever she likes.”
“Are you fuck”—his eyes slide to his daughter, her wide gaze bouncing between the three of us—“freaking kidding me? She’s gonna get hurt.” He waves a hand over me. “I mean, literally, your, uh… thingie is gonna be hurting.
He probably gave you gonorrhea or something.”
My ears blaze as I look away. I’m about to tell him Carter’s clean, but then I realize I don’t need to justify anything to anyone.
“I’m not going to stop seeing him because you disapprove, Jeremy.”
Standing, I pull my nephew out of the contraption he’s bouncing around in and hug him close. Based on the st he’s trying to stu into his mouth, he’s teething something erce.
“Want me to feed him?” I ask Kristin. Pulling Jem’s shirt up, I tickle his belly before giving him a big, wet raspberry. He giggles like crazy, spit bubbling from
his mouth.
“That’d be great, Liv, thanks. His bottle is in the fridge if you wanna—”
“No.” Jeremy rips Jem from my grasp and deposits him into Kristin’s lap. She couldn’t look more irritated, and when he turns away from her, she slices her nger across her neck while glaring at the back of his head. “You’re not using my son to distract from the fact that you’re dating the world’s biggest manwhore.”
Alannah’s nose scrunches. “What’s a manwhore, Daddy?”
“That’s what Auntie Ollie’s boyfriend is, sweetheart.” He pats Alannah’s head, patronizing smile directed at me.
“He is not.” I throw my arms across my chest. “Not anymore.”
Jeremy laughs, a tired sound, as he drags both hands down his face. “You can’t honestly believe you’re the girl Carter Beckett is going to change for.”
The snide remark wraps around my heart, squeezing like a vise. Because to me, that sounds a whole lot like you’re not enough.
I clear my throat and reach for Alannah, kissing her hair before moving toward Jem and Kristin. “As fun as it is to listen to how my own brother thinks I can’t possibly be good enough for a man like Carter Beckett, I’m gonna get going.”
“Aw, Liv, come on. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“You meant it exactly like that,” I say quietly, trying to mask the hurt.
Kristin glares at him. “You’re being an ass. Apologize to your sister or nd somewhere else to sleep tonight.”
“You can sleep with me, Daddy!” Alannah shouts excitedly, then frowns and plants two sts on her hips. “But only after you say sorry for hurting Auntie Ollie’s feelings.”
Jeremy follows me to the door, his big, stupid feet clomping behind me.
“Ollie, come on. I didn’t mean that you’re not good enough.”
“That’s what you said. And that’s what the article said too.” My bottom lip quivers without my permission. Jeremy’s never been good with tears. That’s why his arms go up, all frantic, desperate to stop them before they start.
“No, no, no, no! Olivia, no. You’re enough! You’re too much! Too good!” He throws his head back and groans at my watery eyes. I won’t lie, I have the power
to stop them now that he’s crumbling, but I let them come, just to get some slack. “Ollie. Fuck.”
His arms come around me, rocking us side to side. I hide my victorious grin in his chest.
“He makes me happy, Jer.” Pulling back, I wipe the theatrics from my eyes.
“I want you to be happy. I do, Ollie. But I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” I 100 percent cannot handle it. But I’m learning to trust him.
“Are you sure you like him? Like, if there’s even a shred of doubt—”
“I like him. A lot. No shreds. Not even one.”
His gaze sweeps my face before he nods. “Yeah, okay. Fine. I’ll give him a shot.” He takes my hand, tugging. “Now quit this I’m-leaving bullshit. Your nephew needs to be fed.”
Giggling, I skip back through the living room, scooping Jem out of Kristin’s arms and kissing his cute little nose.
Alannah throws her arms around my waist. “I can’t believe my aunt is Carter Beckett’s girlfriend. All the girls on the team are gonna be so jealous.”
She stays up way later than a seven-year-old should to watch the game, and when Jeremy walks me to the door later he hands me his Vipers jersey, the one with Carter’s last name on it.
“What the hell do you want me to do with this?”
He grumbles at the ground, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Pardon?”
Jeremy throws his hands in the air. “I said can you get your stupid boyfriend to sign my stupid jersey!”
There’s no hiding my smirk at this turn of events, and the last thing I see before my brother slams the door in my face is the mega roll of his eyes.
