I think Riggs started hating Bishop the more she realized how genuine my feelings for him were. Whether Riggs wants to admit it or not, she loves with fierce loyalty. If you cross the ones she cares about, it’s like poking a venomous snake. She didn’t hesitate to strike.
“It isn’t a dungeon, I actually like his apartment,” I argue, even though it’s partly a lie. I did love B’s apartment, it smelled like him. But I wanted to be with him everywhere, not just within the walls of his place.
Bishop and I had been continuing this secret relationship for a month now. In a short time, we’d gone from being best friends to being two sex-crazed adults who couldn’t keep their hands off each other.
Being with him felt like a dream that I never wanted to wake up from. There would be some mornings he’d wake up before me, and there would be a new pack of Lemonheads with a note next to them. Each one was different, but all of them made my heart beat a little faster. Little things like keeping extra ice bags in his deep freezer for me because I was addicted to ice baths after hard practices.
He was addictive, leaving him was like neglecting a piece of myself. It was ridiculous and cheesy, but I hated leaving his apartment. I hated sleeping without him even more, but I knew if I stayed there every night it would be giving him too much.
I had to set at least one boundary. Until he was ready to tell my dad and the rest of the world about us, I refused to stay over longer than one night. No matter how many times he begged. And let me just say, when Bishop begs, it’s with his head buried between my legs. Telling him no physically feels impossible.
“I’m not trying to be a bitch, V. I’m just trying to have your six. You deserve someone with big enough balls to tell people how he feels. This isn’t kindergarten where boys get disgraced for liking girls because they have fucking cooties.”
I know she’s right, and I’m not denying it. I’m just, I don’t know, I’m trying to trust him. To have faith that he will be ready soon and that it really is just him trying to prepare himself for telling my dad. I don’t want to believe it’s me, that the reason he isn’t telling people is that he is embarrassed to be seen with me.
“I know, Riggs. Believe me, I get it. But I need you to trust me on this, okay? I want to give him the benefit of the doubt. If he proves me wrong, and he doesn’t man up soon, I’ll be done,” I declare. Even saying the words makes my stomach churn. Being done with Bishop would be similar to cutting one of my limbs off. He’s an essential part of my life.
She gives me a really, you expect me to believe that look and I shrug.
“You? Valor Sullivan? Done with Bishop Maverick? The day that happens, hell will freeze over.”
She’s right, of course. She always is. My heart squeezes in my chest, and the taste of blood sits on my tongue. I don’t want to be done with B. I just want to be with him. I just want him to prove Riggs wrong.
“I’m serious. If he doesn’t want me publicly, he can’t have me privately! I’m just trying to give him some time.”
“You do know I will kill him, right? A slow, painful death. I’ll waterboard the motherfucker with gasoline. I don’t care if I go to prison, you know that?”
I laugh, pulling her close to my body for a hug.
“I know, my Tasmanian devil. I know.”
She returns my hug for a moment before pushing me away. “Enough with the hugs, you’re going to make me sick. I can only handle so much lovey-dovey shit. I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going to shower at the dorm. Text me and let me know you are okay later,” she informs me before she promptly gathers her things and proceeds to head to her car in just her spandex and bra.
“Aurelia, you can’t go into the student parking lot dressed like that!” Coach yells from his office. She doesn’t even bother turning around, shouting back to him.
“Who is Aurelia?”
The girls in the locker room laugh as she exits the building in perfect Riggs fashion. I toss my hair into a quick messy bun. I grab my phone from my bag, checking to see if I have any messages. The daily twenty-five text messages from my dad fill my screen, and I smile.
I quickly tell him that I will be over for Sunday dinner and that I miss him more. The rest is a few Facebook notifications, but not a single text from Bishop. I type out a short message asking if he is alive, before setting it back down and heading towards the showers.
I don’t bother washing my hair. I just want the dried sweat off my skin. To wash away today's practice and prepare me for tomorrow’s. Showers after hockey kept me humble. No matter how I played that day, it didn’t matter if I scored a hat-trick, or played so badly I was benched. The water washed away everything so that I could focus on tomorrow.
Once I am sure I don’t smell like a dirty gym sock anymore, I wrap a towel around my body and head to get dressed. I’m always the last one out of the locker room, mostly because I take my time to clean up my locker and Riggs’. I swear to God she’d lose her head if I wasn’t there to screw it on.
After pulling on a pair of black athletic shorts, an oversized Chicago University hoodie, and making sure all of my stuff is organized, and Riggs' locker isn’t a disaster. I start to head towards the exit. I hike my gym bag on my shoulder, moving towards the door.
I pull my phone out, checking the screen but there still isn’t anything from Bishop. I type a message but delete it before I send it. I’m not double texting him. I’m not that girl. I refuse to be that girl.
I press the doors open exposing the student parking lot. The air is warmer than normal. One of those days that smell like summer. We don’t get these days often in Chicago. I spend eighty percent of my time on a cold-ass rink, so I try to enjoy the sun as much as I can.
I start to dig into my bag looking for my keys when I feel my phone start to vibrate. I assume it’s my dad, so I hit the answer button, holding the phone between my ear and shoulder while I look for my keys.
“Hey, Dad,” I say into the phone smoothly.
“Oh, it’s Dad now? That’s not really a kink I’m into, Valor. But hey, if it’ll make you come, I’m down to try it.”
Oh, well. That’s fucking fabulous.
Bishop’s voice filters through my speaker reminding me that I need to learn how to check the caller ID before answering the phone.
“Considering I hadn’t heard from you since this morning, I thought you were dead. I wasn’t expecting your call,” I tell him honestly, a hint of irritation in my voice.
His laugh fills my ears. “I was taking care of some things. I’ve got plans tonight and I had to get everything straightened out.”
Instantly the image of him on a date with a puck bunny invading my thoughts. I genuinely might barf in this parking lot. I grit my teeth.
“Oh.”
“Ya know, you need a new pair of Converse, Vallie.” I can hear the smile in his voice which only makes me angrier. I look down at my feet seeing the old black Chucks. They are dirty and look like they might come apart with my next step. But I love these shoes.
“Wait, how the hell do you even know what shoes I’m wearing?”
I feel my keys finally at the bottom of my bag, and I pull them up as I raise my gaze to the empty parking lot in front of me. I spot my car, with a body leaning on the side of it.