AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“We areneverdoing tequila shots again,” Maggie says firmly. “But what if…” she trails off and grabs the blanket off the arm of the couch. She drapes it over our legs and runs her palms across the fleece. Her fingers work the fringe on the ends into tiny little braids. “What if you used it as leverage?”
“Leverage?” I bring the cup of tea to my mouth. I take a sip and hum my approval at the teaspoon of honey and splash of milk she added. “What do you mean?”
“Hear me out,” she says. “We have the annual hospital holiday gala next month.”
“What does that have to do with Shawn?”
“Nothing—yet.But it could. He’s one of the biggest names in sports. A previous Super Bowl winner. A current NFL coach with a hot winning streak. He’s young, he’s good looking, he’s wealthy. Plus, he’s anice guy. You know Director Hannaford has a pattern of promoting people who bring in the best silent auction prizes to the gala. With a boyfriend like Shawn who could offer a coaching lesson or two for someone’s kid who’s trying to get on the varsity football team, well, the donations would triple. The hospital and all its affiliates—including your office—need funding. Badly. This could be an answer to that problem,” she says.
“So, I’m extorting him for his athletic talent and pretty face,” I say flatly. “How is that fair?”
Maggie laughs. “You’re not extorting him, Lace. It’s for the kids. And he would know your intentions ahead of time. You can keep up the dating through the gala, then pretend you broke up. Hannaford wouldn’t care by that point. It’ll be a new year, and all he sees are dollar signs.”
I weigh her words and consider them carefully, because what she’s saying makes sense.A lotof sense, and I hate that she lays it out so logically.
It’s no secret the hospital director looks forward to this time of year; he makes his rounds and asks what items the staff will be donating. The fancier the item, the more impressed he is.
More donations and more funding mean better medical equipment for our patients who desperately deserve it. It also means higher wages and more staff, so everyone can stop working such long hours. The overtime is nice, but five twelve-hour days in a row isbrutal.
The position of chief physician at the pediatric office has been open for months, waiting for a replacement. Hannaford mentioned it once a few months ago in passing, but I never thought anything of it. Never considered throwing my name in the ring or dropping off my resume in his mailbox—especially because he referred to me as Nancy, and I didn’t have the guts to correct him.
Auctioning off a couple hours with Shawn—complete with a private tour of UPS Field—could go for a quarter of a million dollars, easily, and that’s chump change to a lot of the folks that come to the gala. It’s far more profitable than the fruit basket and bottle of wine I was planning to bring.
“He would do that as a friend, though,” I argue. “I don’t have to tell the world he’s my boyfriend to get him to do something nice; he’s always visiting the kids in pediatric oncology. I’m surprised he’s never offered to donate any of his athletic services before. He and Aiden have been friends for a lifetime.”
“Shawn doesn’t like the spotlight,” Maggie explains. “He comes to the hospital in a hoodie and a hat so people in the hall can’t recognize him. When he donates, he donates anonymously—and he’s donateda lot, Lace.”
My hands are sweating. I set the teacup down and rub my palms over my T-shirt before twisting the cotton into a knot in my fist. Unease settles in my stomach, a rock with a heavy weight sinking further and further to the ground.
“That would make him uncomfortable,” I say, and my voice sounds like a thousand splinters sticking up on a piece of wood. “I’d never want to make him uncomfortable.”
“Maybe he could benefit from this arrangement,” Maggie says. “Maybe he could find a way to use you, too.”
I cringe. “Can’t we just use each other as friends? Or not use each other at all?”
“You could, but thegirlfriendof a star NFL coach sounds a lot better than afriend. Plus, it’s the holidays.” She sighs wistfully and glances out the large window to her left. The glass is nearly frosted over, but you can see the city covered in a blanket of white, six inches of snow coming down overnight. “This time of year is magical. It’s romantic. Holding hands while you ice skate and try not to fall over. Sitting in front of a fireplace, curled up with a blanket and a good book. Doesn’t that sound nice? Who does it hurt if you two pretend for a little while?”
“I have to talk to Shawn first,” I say. “This is abigask of him.”
“How is he handling all of this?”
“No clue. I woke up to a phone call from my mother, saw the frenzy that the damn kiss created, and opened the door for you.”
Maggie scoots closer to me. She puts her head on my shoulder and sighs. “How areyouhandling all of this?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t realize there would be repercussions because of what he—we—did.It was bigger than a spur-of-the-moment thing—they’re talking about it onGood Morning America. I just don’t want anyone to get hurt,” I say. My eyes start to sting, and I blink away tears. “He’s my best friend, Mags, and I’d never want to jeopardize our friendship.”
“Was it a good kiss?” she asks.
My smile pulls at the left side of my mouth, then the right. I rub my thumb over the spot Shawn kissed yesterday. I can still feel him there, a phantom touch that followed me home after we slurped down milkshakes and devoured a plate of cheese fries—just like always.
What’s different is the lingering buzz on my lips, the memory of his teeth sinking into my skin and the sound he made when I pulled on the ends of his hair, right above his ears.
I was messing with him when we were joking around; his tongue isn’t too slippery. Everything about the moment was perfect, down to the snowflakes that stuck to his cheeks. I wanted to kiss those off, too.
“Yeah,” I admit. “It was good.”
Maggie giggles and squeals. “I knew it would be. Nothing about it looked nice.”
