Chapter 17

seventeen

MADDOX

Isla's Instagram profile is still on my screen when I hang up with Mira, and I stare at it. There's a battle raging inside my head. Do I Instagram stalk Isla, or do I click out of the app and pretend I never saw her pics? Her profile's public, so I wouldn't be doing anything wrong by looking, but part of me hesitates. Though, maybe that's more because I'm worried whatever I'll see will make me like her more, and less because I think it's crossing some invisible line.

Screw it. I'm curious about her.

There's not much to see from the past year. She's posted a few photos with two women I'm guessing are her best friends. They're all smiling in the snaps, but Isla's doesn't quite meet her eyes. A few photos of sunsets and latte art span several months. Even a few memes get sprinkled in here and there.

As I get to her older posts, it becomes clear when I hit the pre-breakup photos, even though I don't see any of her ex. The photos have more life to them. More color. Her smile is still tight, but there's light in her eyes. A few months further, and the snapshots become brighter still. I grin when I come across a photo from a year and a half ago. Isla's laughing with her friends. Her head's thrown back, eyes sparkling, her mouth open with what had to have been unfettered laughter. She's even more beautiful like this. Uninhibited and free.

I continue scrolling. She's gorgeous. And fun. And maybe Mira and the guys are right. Maybe I need to figure out some kind of Lloyd Dobler-esque grand gesture if I want a chance to get to know this woman.

There are a few pictures of sunsets and artfully arranged photos of teaching supplies. A photo of an empty classroom filled with posters of book covers and quotes gives me a glimpse into the kind of teacher she is. The room is full of color. It's vibrant and engaging, and I'd bet a lot of the kids in her grade would cite English as their favorite subject.

It makes me excited to speak at her school. I'm not sure what I'll say—and I should probably start thinking about it—but her passion is contagious. There's also a small part of me that hopes doing this will give me an in with Isla. Maybe it will help her see me differently. If she believed I was someone she could trust and rely on, someone who valued her passions and work, maybe it would allow her to open up to me. Even if that's just as friends.

Residual anger bubbles in my chest when I think about that asswipe talking down to her about teaching. When I was a stressed-out, angry teenager, the only adults I had in my corner, besides my mom, were my teachers and coaches. And there were a couple along the way who made a genuine difference in my life and helped me believe I could achieve great things. The world needs more teachers like that. Like Isla.

My fingers move impulsively, swiping out of the Instagram app and into my text messages.

Me

Is there anything specific you'd like me to speak about at the assembly, or should I just plan something uplifting and encouraging?

I stare at my screen for a minute, but when she doesn't text me back right away, I tap on the Instagram app and pull it back up. Resuming my light stalking, I grin at photos of a rosy-cheeked Isla in a sports bra and leggings. She's looking back over her shoulder as she navigates a hiking trail, and it's the first photo where she looks utterly vibrant and happy. She clutches a water bottle in her left hand, and my brain goes offline when I notice the modestly-sized circular solitaire diamond on her ring finger.

Isla was engaged?

Heart hammering, I flip through a few more photos and realize she must have looked so happy because the hike took place not long after her ex proposed. There are only one or two photos before that where I catch glimpses of her ring. She clearly went through and deleted all the photos with her ex in them, but I can see why she left these. She looks vibrant. Happy.

But now Isla's discomfort with dating makes sense. And I can understand why her friends are worried about her. From the things Isla said, it sounded like they'd been together for years. She thought they were going to get married. Hell, she's probably unsure how to put herself out there anymore because she never thought she'd need to.

An uncomfortable cocktail of shame and protectiveness fills me. I don't know Isla Harding, but it doesn't take a genius to see she's the real deal. She's smart, funny, sassy, and strong as hell. And I want to shield her from being hurt again.

Which is ridiculous and I know it. I have no claim on her. I haven't earned her trust. And I hurt her, too.

My phone buzzes as a text pops up on my screen.

Isla

Maybe you could tell them a bit about your story. Like how you got into professional hockey, how hard you had to work, and how rewarding it was when that hard work paid off? Then it would be great if you could encourage them and tell them they can achieve greatness, too, if they're willing to put in the work and believe in themselves. They don't all have people in their lives telling them they can be great. I know how discouraging that can be.

She knows from personal experience, or from observing it in her students?

Me

I can definitely talk about all of that. Do you have a date in mind yet?

Isla

Well, school starts in two weeks at the end of August. I'm not sure what your season and schedule look like.

The preseason starts in the middle of September, so it'll be easier to schedule things prior to that.

Of course. Maybe we could do the second week of school?

That should work. You let me know the day and time and I'll clear it with my coach and make up any training I miss. He won't mind for something like this.

Thanks, Maddox. You have no idea how much the kids will love this.

Don't mention it. It was part of our deal, right?

Yeah. Right, of course.

I kick myself. Dammit, now she thinks I'm only doing this because of our deal. Why do I always stick my foot in my mouth with her?

Me

I've been thinking about it a lot. I'm really looking forward to it. Thanks for giving me the opportunity.

This time that little ellipsis that tells me she's typing flashes, then disappears, flashes, then disappears.

Isla

To be honest, I worried you'd try to get out of it.

Yeah. She's got some trust issues. And I deserve that. It's okay, I can be patient. We can work on that if she gives me the chance to earn her friendship.

Me

I may be a lot of things, but one thing you can count on is that I'm a man of my word. If I tell you I'm going to do something, I will always do it. I don't break promises, Isla.

Isla

Everyone claims to be a man of their word. It doesn't mean they are. LOL

My heart pinches. That little LOL she throws in at the end doesn't fool me. Whether she realizes it or not, Isla just revealed one of her truths. Determination fuels me to show her that not every man is a liar. I realize that's ironic since I've thought every woman was a liar on more than one occasion after the crap Candace and Georgia pulled on me. Maybe a friendship with Isla could be healing for both of us.

Me

Well, actions always speak louder than words. I'll just have to show you.

A minute or two passes without a response, and I know I need to change the subject before I lose her entirely. Time to bring this conversation to safer subjects.

Me

Are you going to the silent auction dinner next week? They invited all the date winners. We could discuss the assembly more then.

Isla

I don't know if I'm up for a big, fancy dinner.

I'd really like you to come. Please? It'll be fun. Promise.

You'd really like me to come, or your friends would really like me to come?

Well, shit. I deserve that. On the plus side, this gives me a chance to fix my mistake from the other day.

Me

I'm an ass, aren't I?

Isla

No comment.

I'd really like you to come. To the dinner, and to a game. You're not the only one with a shitty dating history, and I've sort of forgotten how to behave around a woman. Not that I'm saying that excuses my behavior because it doesn't. I'm sorry.

It's okay. I get it.

Don't get me wrong, the guys would love to see you, but I'm not asking for them. Please come.

I'll think about it.

We can take another selfie for your social media profiles. Really make your ex jealous.

LOL! That would be a perk.

I'll even put my arm around your waist and look as smitten as you want.

Smitten?

What?

Nothing…

Come on. Say you'll go.

Well, you did make sure my apartment was creep-free the other day. I guess I owe you.

No, you don't owe me anything. But I'd like to see you.

Do I have to get all fancy?

It's not black tie or anything. Just don't show up in a stained sweatshirt and I think you'll be fine.

Do you have a spy cam in my apartment or something? How'd you know what I was wearing?

LOL. I was using my own wardrobe as an example.

I don't buy it. I've seen the photos of you in your suits. There's no way you own a stained sweatshirt.

She's been looking at pictures of me? I grin like an idiot because maybe Isla Harding isn't as disinterested as she'd like to appear. Maybe, just maybe, I can convince her to be my friend. Or go on a date with me. A real one, not some awful auction date in a stuffy restaurant with the threat of an interview hanging over our heads. I want to take her somewhere fun and low-pressure. Fancy dinners are great once in a while, but they're not my thing. I'd pick a chill night out almost every time, and something tells me Isla is the same.

I want to see her let her hair down. I want to make her smile the way she did in her older Instagram posts.

With a wide grin, I tap the little camera icon in our text thread, switch it to selfie mode, and point at the stain near the collar of my sweatshirt. It's pizza sauce that never quite came out, but the hoodie is so broken in I can't bring myself to toss it. Why get rid of the most comfortable piece of clothing I own just because of a little sauce stain? That would be madness.

I send the photo and take another sip of my beer. It takes a moment to get anything back from her, but it's worth the wait.

She's fighting laughter in the selfie. She's makeup free, her hair is down and wilder than the two times I've seen her, and her blue eyes sparkle.

Hell, she's beautiful.

When I notice the stain on her hoodie—in almost the same spot as mine—I laugh loudly. The only difference is that hers looks like a red wine stain.

Isla

Twinning!

Me

Maybe we should wear these to the auction dinner.

It would certainly make a statement.

So you'll come?

I'll come.

God, I want to make a dirty joke about how I'll make her come, but I hold myself back. I can't put my foot in my mouth again. That doesn't stop the mental images of Isla throwing her head back in a silent scream as she writhes on my dick from making me hard. I'm always hard when I think about her.

Guess I know how I'm ending this night. With my dick in my fist.

Me

I'm going to hold you to that.

Isla

Well, I wouldn't want to disappoint your friends.

Well played.

I know.

ESPN is all but forgotten as we text back and forth for another fifteen minutes. Then I tug down my sweatpants, imagine Isla's beautiful body naked and kneeling at my feet, ready to suck me down, and take my cock in my hand. Using my thumb, I spread the bead of pre-cum around my head. I wish it was Isla's tongue wetting my shaft, but this will have to do for now. I'm painfully hard from our banter, so it's not long before my body tightens with my impending release.

With every tug and stroke of my dick, I picture Isla's pretty little mouth taking me. Her muffled moans would fill the air as I pressed into her throat. Those delicate fingers of hers would clutch my ass, urging me deeper. She'd be greedy for me. Wild for me. A goddess amongst mortals.

My balls tighten seconds before my orgasm rips through me, and hot ropes of cum paint my abs.

If this is how turned on I am after texting this woman, I'm fucked. Doesn't mean I'll stop what I'm doing, though. Like Navarro said: I'm a goner.