Chapter 13

Starla

I lean forward, peering through the scratched plexiglass barrier while my heart beats in tandem with the countdown clock. Its red digits tick away too slowly to the final second of the game. Poppy's fingers dig into my shoulder. Lennox's nerdy quick game commentary makes me chuckle, while Nola's laughter makes the unnerve bearable.

"Come on, Yellowjackets!" I shout, my voice barely noticeable above the crowd in this Kissing Springs’ ice arena.

Aaron is a blur of gold and black on the ice. Finally, as the final buzzer blares, announcing the Yellowjackets' victory, the place erupts. Cheers, whistles, and the stampede of feet against bleachers sound loud and proud.

"Yay, Aaron!" I scream. My friends join in the cheering, their boyfriends slapping high-fives with each other.

We spill out into the brisk Kentucky night along with the flow of elated fans towards the makeshift celebration in the parking lot. Fairy lights strung between pickup trucks, barbecue grills, and clusters of people fill the parking lot.

"Starla!" Aaron's voice cuts through noise from the players' exit, his blond hair still damp from a shower, his blue eyes scanning the crowd until they lock onto mine.

"Over here!" Poppy yells, waving her arms above her head to catch his attention.

His confident stride clears a path to get to us. His athletic frame is covered in the Yellowjackets' colors. There's a magnetic force pulling us together.

"Great game, Aaron," Nola congratulates.

"Thanks, couldn't have done it without you guys here," he replies, his gaze lingering on me, as if the rest of the world fades away. I naturally step closer, feeling like this small town hockey hero and I are the only ones in the universe right now.

Without warning, Aaron closes the remaining distance between us, his strong arms wrapping around my waist as he pulls me close to his chest. The heat of his body radiates through my leather jacket as I lean into him. Our eyes meet and the intensity makes me shake.

"Star," he whispers. Then, as if staking a claim for all to see, he kisses me, right there in the middle of the parking lot party. It’s hot, passionate, electric… Fuck, all the adjectives that describe how I want this man so bad that I wouldn’t give a damn if he picked me up and set me down on his tailgate and fucked me in front of this crowd.

Eventually, we break apart, both flushed and breathless. The excitement from our friends surrounds us like a protective cocoon, shielding us from the judgmental gazes of some others in the crowd.

"Damn, girl," Poppy grins, "looks like you've got yourself a man."

"Seems so," I reply, still breathless.

***

A few days later, I’m walking up to get in line to check out at the local supermarket, replaying the memory of Aaron's kiss, when I overhear hushed whispers from two old church ladies in line ahead of me.

"Can you believe it?" one woman mutters, glaring at me over the top of her bifocals. "Aaron Wilson, such a good boy. A paramedic and a star on the hockey team, dating someone like her."

"Shameful," agrees her companion, shaking her head as she clutches her purse. "I don't know what he's thinking, being with a woman who owns that… that vile sex toy shop."

Their words sting, but I refuse to let them see how much they hurt me. Instead, I square my shoulders and remind myself that I'm more than the judgments they place on me. I'll prove to them, and to anyone else who doubts me, that owning a sex toy shop doesn't make me any less deserving of love or respect.

"Excuse me," I say, stepping forward in line, my chin held high. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. I just wanted to let you know that Aaron is an amazing person who understands the importance of acceptance and embracing people for who they are."

As they stare at me, mouths agape, I smile to myself

I walk out of the grocery store, the weight of the words from those judgmental women still heavy on my shoulders. No matter how hard I try, my life is far from what others in Kissing Springs consider "normal" and "good."

Back at home, I try to focus on anything, but their damn words keep replaying in my head. I need to talk to Aaron about this. I dial his number, and he answers after two rings.

"Hey, Star. What's up?"

"Can we meet somewhere? I need to talk to you about something," I say, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Of course, babe. How about at the park? You won’t miss seeing where I’m at. I’ll be next to the big red box of an ambulance," he suggests with a chuckle.

"Sounds good. See you there in ten."

As soon as I see him waiting by the large oak tree, my heart clenches. He looks so strong and confident, yet I'm afraid to tell him how the gossip may threaten our newfound friendship. Is that what this is between us? Friends? Or more than just friends?

We exchange a quick kiss and hug before I launch into the story, recounting the hurtful comments.

"I don't think we should worry about what people say," Aaron says. "You know who you are, and I know who you are. That's enough for me."

I shake my head, frustration boiling within me. "No, it's not just about us. It's about proving to this town that owning an adult boutique doesn't make me a bad person. I'm tired of feeling like I have to hide who I am."

"You don't have to prove anything to anyone," he argues, running a hand through his hair. "The more attention we give them, the more power they have over us."

"Maybe that's true," I admit, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. "But I can't just stand by and let them judge me without a fight. If I don't defend myself, who will?"

Aaron sighs, his face etched with tension. "I understand where you're coming from, but I think it's best if we just ignore them. If we're confident in ourselves and our relationship, nothing they say can touch us."

"Maybe you're right," I concede, my mind narrowing in on his last words. "Relationship, huh?"

He wraps an arm around me, pulling me close. "Yes, Star. That is where we are heading, and I like the thought of that. Don’t listen to what people say. That is definitely not how I feel about you."

No one deserves to be shamed for embracing their true selves. I won't back down when confronted about that fact.

Aaron and I walk hand-in-hand down the sidewalk. The scent of freshly cut grass floats in the air, but the beauty of our quaint town does little to alleviate the heavy tension between us.

"Starla," Aaron says, breaking the silence. "I know we have different opinions on how to handle this gossip, but we need to find a way to move past it."

I stop walking and look at him. "Aaron, I..."

"Starla, listen to me," he interrupts gently, his blue eyes searching mine. "I just went public with you, and I'll be damned if the little old ladies around here disrupt what we have growing. I have enough other shit to deal with in life rather than worrying about what they think, and you shouldn't let it bother you either."

His words sting, but I know he's only trying to protect us. I bite my lip, uncertain of how to respond. A part of me wants to agree with him and ignore the judgmental whispers that surround us, but another part of me craves the chance to stand up for myself and challenge the narrow-mindedness of our small town.

"Is that really what you think?" I ask, my voice trembling.

"Starla," he says, cupping my face in his hands. "I can't control what other people think or say about us. All I can do is care for you and support you, and hope that's enough."

Tears threaten to spill from my eyes as I nod slowly, knowing deep down that he's right.

"Okay," I whisper, my resolve crumbling. "Maybe you're right. Maybe we should just focus on each other and let the gossip die down on its own."

"Thank you," he says, pulling me into a tight embrace.