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Not that Vic and I are in a relationship, but if we were, it would be two hundred and eighty-three percent consensual.
We aren’t, though.
We wouldn’t be.
Noticing his objective level of attractiveness changes nothing. His attentiveness to detail and willingness to put in hard work changes nothing.
“There have been some whispers…”
And fuck it all, the team owner is still talking. While I’ve beennotdaydreaming about the captain of his team.
“We’re not together,” I say, ready to shut down the rest of this conversation, and another wave of red-hot anger pulses through me. Here I am again, getting ‘talked to’ by the people who hold my career and professional future in their hands. Whether or not they’re true, the rumors—and this meeting—will sit like a black smudge on my permanent record. I’ve only ever had a dressing down from my boss once. And that was Varg’s fault, too.
I don’t even realize I’ve clenched my hands into fists until the sting of my nails cutting into my skin registers in my brain.
Mr. Seever studies me, dark eyes boring into mine. I force myself to keep his gaze like this is some kind of lie detector test. As if a blink will betray the fact that I might have had a dream about strong hands slipping up the length of my thighs last night. And okay, the dream wasn’t necessarily about Varg—it’s not like I saw his face or anything identifying—but in my fantasy his hand spanned the entire distance from the inside of my knees to the soft fold where my thighs meet my hips. I know I’m small, but few men arethatbig. If it helps, I woke up angry with myself, and not just because Mads and Max let themselves into my apartment to raid my cereal stash before my alarm went off, leaving me short a happy ending.
“As you’re well aware,” the team owner says, “The Arctic Organization has a pretty extensive non-fraternization policy.” Not that it stopped Beau Pelletier from asking me out when he first joined the roster. “But I’m not a man interested in standing in the way of true love. If you and Mr. Varg have genuine feelings for each other, then that’s something I’d be willing to look the other way for, but I don’t need to tell you we are all under extra scrutiny. The team cannot afford another scandal on top of…” he trails off, but I know what he means. “You are a fantastic employee, Ms. Grant, but we both know the team cannot afford to lose Victor Varg for the foreseeable future.”
“I understand, Sir.” It takes effort to not let my voice shake. “Victor Varg and I are filming videos for the team's social media accounts. There is nothing more than a working relationship between us.”We aren’t even friends. I don’t add the last part. It seems unlikely that it will help convince the man in front of me I’m a consummate professional. That we’re having this conversation proves he doesn’t think I am.
I don’t want to whine, anyway. I want to rage. I want to tip my head back and scream until the floor-to-ceiling windows behind Bob’s desk shatter into a million pieces. I want the papers to fly off the desk and spiral through the room like an F-5 tornado tearing across the Great Plains. Just once, I want things to go my way. I want the world to be goddamn fair for five fucking minutes.
You’re a fantastic employee, but…
You’re a hard worker, but…
You’ve done everything we asked of you, but…
You’re a good kid, but…
But…
But…
But…
It’s never enough. Nothing I do is ever good enough. No matter how much time and effort I put into a task, there’s always someone else ready and able to do it better. No matter how perfectly I slick back my hair, no matter how carefully I apply my makeup, no matter how much I practice and center myself so I can ooze responsibility and control, there’s always someone else older, taller. Someone with a penis willing to come and take it all away.
Mr. Higgins, the department of child and family services worker who tried to step in and send my siblings to different foster homes despite the years that I’d been holding everything together. Dr. Agarwal, the one who stitched up Joey’s dog bite, asking pointed questions about where our parents were. Ms. Jones, the third-grade teacher who went toe-to-toe with me about whether I could attend parent-teacher conferences for the twins. Or sign permissions slips. Despite being a month away from my eighteenth birthday. Chris, my boss, setting me up on this project and then making decisions without consulting me. Mr. Seever, making sure I know that no matter how well I do my job, I’ll lose to the superstar captain every single time.
Victor Varg, smiling without a care in the world and getting everything handed to him, while some of us have to carve out every crumb that comes our way.
My dad, for starting a new family before he could have the decency to quit his old one. For leaving us alone in a too-small apartment without enough money coming in, and a mother who hadn’t worked since I was born.
My mom, for choosing to let her self-worth be determined by a cheating louse, and ignoring the children she birthed once he was gone. Letting her oldest daughter hold them all together with stubbornness and willpower.
Mr. Seever is still studying me and I force a smile.
“You don’t have to worry about us.” I’m looking up through my eyelashes, trying to project competent but sweet and innocent too. “You can trust that we both have the team’s best interests at heart.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Bob agrees. “I’m sorry to start your day off on such a dreary note, Ms. Grant. Hopefully, we can put all this fraternization stuff behind us.”
I shake his hand and thank him for his time because it’s what I’m supposed to do. I leave the office on autopilot, barely restraining the urge to reach into my bag for my cell and pull up the team accounts. The minute the latch catches on the door behind me, I’m scrolling my way to our most recent video so quickly that I almost lose my grip on my phone.
Rumors.
Bob Seever, the owner of the Arctic franchise, said there’d been rumors. I need to know if the rumors are internal—the team gossiping around the locker room—or external—fans and followers seeing something that isn't there. My approach to handling each will need to be different. I’m not in any of the videos, just a word or two, a few seconds of me holding a puppy in the last one we posted. Almost all of them are just Varg. Solo.
