If You Want Me (The Toronto Terror Series)

“Okay. You’ve finished all but one written exam, your last major projects aren’t due for several more days, and you’re watching horrible reality TV. We’re going out tonight, and you are not allowed to say no.” Rix stands in front of the TV with her hands on her hips.

She’s spot on about the horrible reality shows. I found some from a decade ago that have zero in the way of plot, and the cast is comprised of the most frustrating humans on the face of the earth. For a show that stresses the importance of strategy, there seems to be none. Unless being an annoying jerk counts.

I drag my eyes up to her face. “I still don’t know how to feel, and I’m still sad.”

“Of course you are. You’re watching the world’s biggest assholes vie for a quarter of a million dollars. That would make anyone sad.” She drops to the cushion beside me. “And you’re allowed to be conflicted.”

In a rare, shocking post-game interview, Hollis publicly declared he’s in love with me. Well, he said he’s in love with Roman Hammerstein’s daughter and tacked my name on at the end. I’ve watched the clip an unreasonable number of times. Dissected it. Tried to read between the lines. As nice as it is to hear I’m not alone with my feelings, that he referred to me as Roman’s daughter first leaves me with a lot of questions. Like how can it ever work between us if my dad is the third party in our relationship all the time? Also, it’s one thing for Hollis to tell the world how he feels, but what is he going to do about it? I don’t know if this will impact my potential job with the Terror, but I can’t worry about that today.

“I miss Hollis.” I look up to the ceiling to fend off my tears. He messaged the other night, but I haven’t responded. I’m over here working on my relationship with my dad and standing up for myself. I can’t do his part as well. I need Hollis to make an actual move. I want him to say those words to my face and tell me how he plans to prove he means it.

“I know.” Rix wraps her arm around me. “Which is why we need to dress you up like a thirst trap and go shake our asses on the dance floor. And we should also do shots like they’re not the worst idea we’ve ever had.”

“Shots are always a bad idea. And yet I always say yes to them.”

“Truth. I’ll text Hemi, Dred, and Shilps.”

“What about Tally? I feel bad that she gets left out of bar nights.”

“She’s on a senior-year high school trip, and we’ll have a girls’ night when she gets back. I’m sure she’ll have all kinds of drama to fill us in on, because teenagers.”

Rix sends the text message, which quickly turns into a buzzfest. Shilpa and Ash are on a date, so they’ll meet us there, but Dred and Hemi come over. I love that Dred has become part of our core group when we’re hanging at our apartments or the Watering Hole.

Rix pulls me off the couch and drags me to my closet. Then she decides we need to up my outfit game, so we raid her closet instead. “This skirt.” She tosses a skintight pleather number at me.

“Will barely cover my ass.” I have several inches on Rix, so this already-short skirt will be something else.

“If you’re opposed to showing that much skin, how about this as an alternative?” She tosses a pair of black leather-looking leggings at me. “They’re the magic-butt pants.”

“How come I’ve never seen you wear these?” I ask.

“Because if Tristan sees me in them, I don’t make it out the door.”

“Ah, that makes sense.” I rub my chest at the sudden sharp stab. “Less than a week ago, I would have put on magic-butt pants for Hollis.” I try to make my breathing even, so the tears won’t fall.

“The hurt hits hard, doesn’t it?”

“So hard. But it’s more than that. I miss how steady I felt when I was with him. How clear the future started to look when we were trying to make this work, and now, I just don’t know.”

She nods. “We don’t have to go out tonight if you’re not up to it. We can eat ice cream instead. All the ice cream.”

I shake my head. “If I keep it up, I’ll need to buy stock in Kawartha. I need to get out of my head.” And my aching heart needs a rest, too.

“Okay.” She passes me the magic-butt pants and rummages through her closet for a shirt. “Pair it with this.” She tosses a cowl neck, backless, rhinestone tank at me.

Fifteen minutes later I’m dressed—if we can call it that—and we’re on a video call with Essie, who functions as our live makeup tutorial guide.

“How have you been my best friend since nursery school and never mastered cat eyes?” Essie asks.

“Because you were always here to do them for me,” Rix says.

“I really need that portal between Vancouver and Toronto,” Essie sighs.

“Maybe you can transfer to Toronto soon,” Rix says wistfully as she follows the video tutorial playing on my phone.

There’s a lot going on at once.

“I’m contracted here through the summer, but I have holidays banked, so I will be visiting again soon.”

We chat with Essie until our makeup is done. Hemi and Dred show up a few minutes later. I do a double take as Dred shrugs out of her oversized cardigan.

“Holy shit.”

Dred looks down at herself. She’s wearing a black leather corset dress that laces up the front and does an unreal job of showing off all her assets, which are typically hidden under her cardigans. Although the dress she wore to the gala showed a lot of personality and thigh, this is next level.

“Too much?” Her lips pucker. “It’s too much, isn’t it? I asked Flip for his advice, and he gave me the thumbs-up. I should’ve known better. It was a Halloween costume three years ago.”

“There’s nothing going on with you two?” Hemi asks.

Dred makes a face like she’s eaten a lemon. “Ew. No.” Then she gives Rix an apologetic look. “No offense. I adore Flip. He is a master at Battleship. But like, just no. He’s like a brother.”

“It’s so…interesting that he hasn’t tried to get with you,” Hemi muses.

“I was honest from day one. He just nodded and said cool. He’s never once pushed that boundary. There’s also no chemistry. It’s nice to have a hot guy friend who doesn’t want to find out if this buttoned-up librarian is a freak in the sheets.”

“Well, based on this outfit, I feel like we now know the answer to that,” Rix says.

“It really is too much, isn’t it?”

I direct her eyes to my outfit, then Rix’s and Hemi’s. “Really? How can you be worried?”

Rix is wearing the skirt that would have been more like a headband on me and a red tank. Hemi is wearing a royal blue dress that conforms entirely to her amazing curves.

“So, I look okay and not like I’m trying to be something I’m not?”

I nod. “You look amazing.”Content © NôvelDrama.Org 2024.

“Phew.” Her shoulders relax. “I wasn’t one hundred percent sold. Are we heading out right away?”

“I vote for a round of margaritas first,” Hemi announces. “It’s already been a night, and if you’re okay with it, I might leave my car here and get my drink on.” She pulls a mostly full bottle of tequila out of her oversized purse.

“Oh, shit. What happened?” Rix takes the bottle from her. “And you can always take my room, and I can sleep at Tristan’s.”

“I went on the worst first date in the history of first dates.”

“Why didn’t we know about this date?”

She waves a dismissive hand. “I’m still in the vetting process for my high school reunion in the summer. There is no way I’m going dateless. Hopefully, I’ll find a viable candidate soon.”

“What happened on this date to make it so bad?” Rix asks.

“You know when you talk to someone online and they seem normal, but when you meet them in person, you realize they are the furthest thing from it?”

“Oh yeah. That’s happened to me so many times,” Dred says.

“This guy’s profile says he’s in the entertainment industry, which is pretty vague, right?”

“I feel like there’s a but coming.” Rix dumps half the bottle of tequila in the shaker.

We’re in for a night.

“He’s a clown for children’s birthday parties. Like, that’s his actual job. Which is…whatever. Fine. Being a birthday clown is a legitimate job. But he drives around in a white van. Just a plain white van with no windows. He gave me serious serial-killer vibes. I deleted my profile off the site. I’m so glad we never exchanged phone numbers.” Hemi grabs the tequila and takes a swig straight from the bottle.

Rix hands her a lime wedge.

“Yikes. How about next time you go on a date, you let us know?” I suggest. “And we should all do that app tracking thing on our phones so we can friend-stalk each other in situations like these.”

Dred nods. “Flip put that on my phone recently, after he found out I had a weird encounter at work. It’s also great when I need him to check on Dewey when I work late.” Dred has a pet hedgehog, and he is the cutest, stinkiest little guy with a robust social media following.

“Flip monitors your whereabouts?” Rix asks. “He doesn’t even do that with me.”

“But Tristan does, right?” Dred asks.

“Yeah.”

“So Flip doesn’t have to. He only started doing it recently. Sometimes I’m at the library until midnight, and it can get dicey when I check the bathrooms.”

“Why the bathrooms?” Hemi asks.

“It’s a free public space. Sometimes people suffering from addiction use the bathrooms, especially in the winter. Mostly they’re harmless and want to be left alone, but I’ve had a couple of scary interactions. When a security guard isn’t available, I’ll call a friend or Flip and they stay on the line with me until I’m sure it’s all clear.”

“Wow. That’s—I had no idea. You can call us too.” I touch her arm.

“Same,” Hemi replies.

“I’m glad Flip does that for you. That’s the kind of brother I know he can be,” Rix says with a wide smile.

It’s kind of him, but it hurts my heart a little that he was such a thoughtless dick when Rix was living with him.

Rix pours us very strong margaritas, and we briefly video-call Tally. She’s in a hotel room with three of her classmates, two of whom are attempting to sneak out and meet up with guys. Tally has no interest in joining, since one of the trip chaperones is her mom’s best friend. Last year the kids who tried the same thing were sent home by bus at their parents’ expense. We promise her we’ll get together as soon as she’s home so she can fill us in on everything.

Once we finish our margaritas, we head to the club. It seems Hemi’s already organized bottle service, so we have a table and tequila as soon as we arrive. It’s a busy night, the dance floor full of pulsing bodies. Just try not to wallow for an evening, I tell myself. I need to focus on something other than how impossible it all seems.

After a while, we’ve made our own little dance floor in front of our table. I’m trying to lose myself in the music, but my heart and head are somewhere else.

Dred’s eyes go wide. “Oh, shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Remember that tracking app?”

“Yeah.”

“Flip is here.”

“I told Tristan where we were going,” Rix offers with a chagrined smile. “Not on purpose. I was distracted when he asked.” We all know what that really means.

I scan the bar, searching for Flip and Tristan in the crowd. They’re not hard to find. Both of them are over six feet with broad shoulders, and they look like they own the place. They’re wearing black dress pants and button-downs. Dallas appears behind them, and then, much to my surprise, Hollis.

“Fuck a duck. Hollis is here,” I mutter. Like the rest of the guys, he’s wearing black dress pants, but instead of a light shirt, he’s paired it with a black button-down. My breath catches in my throat. I search the space behind him for my dad, hopeful something has changed. But he’s not here.

Hollis’s gaze locks on me as the guys close in. My palms start to sweat.

“I can tell them to go somewhere else, if you want,” Rix says.

“Let’s see what he does first?” It’s more question than answer. My heart aches in a way that’s become uncomfortably familiar. Hemi and Rix move to flank my sides.

Tristan looks like he’s mentally undressing Rix as he approaches. His gaze shifts to the right for a moment, and he frowns. “Dred?”

“Hey.” She raises her hand in a wave.

“Fuck. You look…not like you.”

“Um…thanks?”

“You look nice!” He gives her an awkward two thumbs-up, then motions behind him. “Hollis wanted to tag along. But if you need him to fuck the hell off, just tell me.”

I nod. “Okay, thanks.”

“But as someone who fucked up royally not so long ago, maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to hear him out tonight.” He rubs the back of his neck. “That’s all I’ll say about that.”

Hollis is making a move by being here, which is what I need from him. So I nod. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Willy, you look stunning,” Dallas says.

“Eat a urinal cake, Dallas,” Hemi replies.

“You ladies need anything from the bar?” Flip asks. He high-fives Dred once he’s closer to her.

Dred points to the bottle of tequila. “We’re probably more than good for now.”

Hollis moves around the guys and approaches me, sort of the way someone would a cornered animal. As he gets closer, I notice dark circles under his eyes and uncertainty on his face. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and leans in, his mouth close to my ear, which means I’m huffing his cologne. The music is loud, so we have to shout to hear each other.

He tucks a hand into his pocket, expression full of remorse. “If you’d prefer not to be around me, I also understand, and I’ll leave.”

“I don’t want you to go,” I blurt.

“You tell me what you want, and I’ll do my best to give it to you.”

What do I want from Hollis? Isn’t that the million-dollar question? He’s here, and that means something, but why did it take until now for him to get to this place? “I don’t know what that is right now, but I’m glad you’re here.”

His fingers brush the back of my hand, and he inclines his head toward the dance floor. “Go have fun with your friends. I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk.”

With a nod, I join Hemi, Dred, and Rix on the main dance floor. Tristan is standing guard against a pole fifteen feet away, watching Rix. She grabs my hand and pulls me into their circle. “What’s going on?”

I shrug and take a hefty gulp of my margarita. “He wants to talk when I’m ready.”

“Are you going to hear him out?” Dred asks.

“I should.” It comes out sounding like a question.

“What do you want?” Rix asks.

I want to be chosen by him. To be put first. For him to own his words and prove he means them.

Rix takes my free hand in hers. “Talking doesn’t mean you have to make a decision right away.”

“I know. I’m just scared.” But worrying about things I can’t control won’t help.

As I dance with the girls, I’m acutely aware of Hollis’s eyes on me. And he doesn’t look away when I meet his gaze from across the room. He pulls his phone out.

A few seconds later, mine buzzes with a new message.

Hollis

Will you dance with me?

I bite back a smile and nod. That’s something I can manage.

He moves through the crowd, eyes never leaving mine. When he reaches me, his hand settles on my waist, and he drops his mouth to my ear. Like he’s perfectly comfortable touching me in public. Like I’m his. Like he’s mine. His fingers drift down my other arm and slide under my palm. He lifts it and presses his lips to my knuckles. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

It’s what I wanted. What I still want. But fear makes it almost impossible to move.

He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t look around to see who might be watching. Instead, he pulls me closer. “Is this okay, Princess?”

“It’s okay.” I close my eyes as the endearment hits me right in the chest. I’ve missed hearing him call me that.

I move closer, until our bodies are flush, waiting for him to back off or tell me it’s a bad idea. He doesn’t. All this time spent fighting our connection, and now here we are, broken and afraid and still so drawn to each other.

He kisses the tip of each finger. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here.” But there’s an ocean of hurt between us.

“Then why do you feel so far away?”

Our chemistry crackles, but there’s still everything else we need to figure out. Wanting him is one thing. Moving forward is another.

He drops his head, his warm breath on my neck, lips at my ear. “It was torture having to watch you out here on the dance floor and never be able to touch you.” The hand on my hip shifts to my low back, keeping me close. “I’ll never make the same mistake again if you give me the chance, Aurora.”

It’s all the right words. But I need more. He dips his head, as if to kiss me, but I press my thumb against the center of his lips. His eyes meet mine, and my knees weaken at the emotions in them. Lust and longing are always there, but it’s the deeper emotion—the one I haven’t dared to address—that makes me wish we could go back and do this over, but better, without the deception and the hurt. But he was still pages behind me. Maybe it’s me who’s fallen behind this time. All my fears are holding me hostage.

It would be so easy to let him take me home and fall back into bed with him, to connect us in the way that feels so right. But then we’re back where we started. “My heart is broken, Hollis.”

I need him to prove he won’t walk away again, that he sees me for me, and he’ll do what it takes. Because I’m worth the risk. Only then can I do the same. If we’re both hiding from our fears, this will never work.

He kisses the back of my hand. “Can we go somewhere and talk? If you’re ready?”

If I want all these things, I have to give him the opportunity. “I’m ready.”

Hollis waits while I hug the girls and say good night. “I should not sleep with him tonight, right?” I ask Rix.

“Totally up to you,” she says. “However, sex and feelings go hand in hand, so it might be better to have the feelings part managed before you go adding the sex back in.”

I really love her. “Good call.”

“Stay strong.” She squeezes my hands. “Batdick will do his job until Hollis fixes his fuckup.”

When I’m done with the hugs, Hollis laces our fingers and guides me through the crowded club. It’s April, so it’s chilly once we step outside. He wraps a protective arm around me while we wait for his car. He does it so casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like it’s not the first time it’s ever happened in public. And like he didn’t break my heart less than a week ago.

“Are you okay to drive?”

“I only drank club soda.”

“Oh.” That’s much smarter than my three-margarita night. I’m definitely tipsy. And horny. And emotional. At least I stayed away from the martinis.

He runs his hand up and down my back. “You look incredible, but this outfit isn’t very practical for the weather.”

“The plan was thirst trap, not practicality.”

“You definitely hit the mark. Everything about you is sexy.”

The valet pulls up with Hollis’s blue sports car. He opens the door for me and holds my hand while I climb into the passenger seat. My knees go weak as I’m immersed in the scent of his cologne. After he settles behind the wheel, he turns on the seat warmers and reaches behind him to retrieve one of his hoodies for me.

“Oh, thank God.” I shove my arms through the warm, soft fabric that also smells like him.

“Do you want to go back to one of our places, or would you like to grab a bite to eat?”

Having this conversation in public will make it a lot harder to end up in bed with him. I could also use some carbs to soak up the tequila. “Food would be good.”

“Are you in the mood for anything specific?”

“No, wherever is fine. Maybe just not the diner.” It has too many conflicting memories.

“Okay.”

It’s late, so we end up at a chain restaurant about a fifteen-minute drive from home. The host’s eyes bulge as we walk in. He’s wearing a name tag that reads Scott. “Hollis Hendrix?”

Hollis gives him a friendly smile. “That’s me. I’d appreciate if you didn’t announce it too loudly, though.” He glances around the semi-full restaurant.

We’re a little outside the club district, but close to one of the local colleges. In hindsight, this might not have been the best location.

“Yes, sir,” he whispers. “It’s an honor to have you here. I hope you’re able to get back in the game for playoffs.”

“Thanks. If you could seat us somewhere private, that would be great,” Hollis says, still wearing his professional smile.

“Of course.” Scott grabs two menus and motions for us to follow him.

He seats us at a booth in the back corner and rushes off, telling us our server will be right with us. She appears a second later. Pearl is in her sixties, and she doesn’t so much as bat an eyelash at Hollis. We both order coffee and water, and I opt for the bananas foster crepes because I need comfort food while Hollis gets the all-day breakfast.

I’m so nervous. I squeeze my fingers together in my lap, waiting to hear what he has to say.

His voice is raw with emotion, and when he straightens, I see anguish in his eyes. “I’m fucking lost without you.”

He’s so sad and beautiful. My fingers twitch with the desire to touch him. To slide into the booth next to him and let him wrap me in his arms and forget everything that’s happened since the gala. But I can’t just hand him back my heart after he discarded it. He has to make me believe he wants it. “Then how could you let me go so easily?”

“Because I’m an idiot. A scared idiot. And a lot of other things. But those two top the list.” He rubs his bottom lip. “I don’t know if I can fix this, but I am going to try, and I’m not giving up without a fight.”

Those are the right words. My heart sings, but then stutters. I’m scared to trust him. I hate that my brain goes to my dad right now, but I think he’s right. Without action, Hollis’s words don’t have much meaning. I search for what to say as my heart moves to my throat. “Do you want to talk about the interview?”

He blows out a breath. “That was not the ideal way for you to hear those words from me for the first time, but I meant them.” Hollis puts his hand palm up on the table, his expression hopeful.

I settle my hand into his and immediately feel more at ease. “Tell me something real and true,” I whisper.

“I’m so fucking in love with you, Aurora. Hopelessly, stupidly, irrationally in love with you.”

“And yet, you still walked away from me.”

“I let fear stand in my way,” he says softly. “But I won’t let that happen again, if you give me another chance.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“That I was an infatuation for you. That whatever your feelings were, they could change. That they would.”

“Because of what happened with Scarlet?” I ask.

He nods. “I thought I was protecting you and your relationship with Roman, but it was my heart I was trying to safeguard. I stood in my own way. You’re such a bright star, and I didn’t want to hold you back.”

“How would that happen?”

“The world is yours, Aurora. Whatever you want, you just have to reach out and take it. I’ve already hit my peak in my career, and you’re just starting.” His thumb sweeps across my knuckles, as if the contact grounds him. “I guess I convinced myself that you could, should do better than me, and eventually you would see that.”

“She really did a number on you, didn’t she?” I say.

His smile is sad. “Yeah. I come with scars, Aurora.”

“Welcome to life, Hollis. Everyone has baggage. My dad is a professional hockey player. I was the result of a teen pregnancy. I lived in eighteen different cities in the first five years of my life. My mom, who I love dearly and who loves me the best way she can, had to step back and let my dad take over because she couldn’t raise me. And then I grew up as the team princess.” Thank God for good therapists and my dad being constant. “I’m surrounded by alpha, elite athletes who make more than half a million a year at the very least, and I will never come close to that. Everyone puts me on a pedestal, and I just want to be me, for that to be enough. I can’t be perfect.”

“You’re more than enough, Aurora. I just worried I wasn’t.”

“Well, we’re two peas in a pod, then, because I worried you were going to go back to Scarlet because she’s a better fit for you than me.”

The hurt in my heart is echoed in Hollis’s eyes. He closes them for a moment, as if he’s siphoning the pain, absorbing it and making it his. When they open, sadness lingers, but determination prevails. “There is no one for me but you. I should have stood up for us from the beginning. I should have known from the moment we started that you were it for me. I know you don’t trust me right now, and words are empty unless they’re carried by action. But I keep looking at my future, and all I can see is you.” His thumb sweeps along my knuckles.

The life with him I’d been building in my heart and head feels terrifyingly possible again. “How do I trust that the way you feel about me will be enough?” That’s what this comes down to. This isn’t about my dad or his feelings, or how anyone else will perceive our relationship. It comes down to us, and whether we can stand up for each other when it matters most.

“Time, Aurora. I’m asking for time and the chance to show you I’m yours. Wholly. Unequivocally, eternally yours. I choose you, Aurora. I love you. You are worth every risk. Let me prove it.”

He’s so earnest. My soft, broken heart mends with his words. But I can’t say them back. Not yet. Not when everything feels so unsteady. I don’t want to set myself up for more heartbreak, but what was the point of enduring this pain if we don’t at least see if we can fix what’s broken?

I can’t make decisions out of fear. I have to choose to be the person—the adult—I want to be. My dad can not love my choices and still love me. I don’t need to try to be enough, because I already am. I have to believe I’m worth the risk, too. “I’ll let you try.”