5. August

CHAPTER FIVE

AUGUST

I didn't sleep a fucking wink.

I've been in the gym downstairs since five and even that wasn't enough so here I am pounding the pavement before the sun even comes up.

I don't like the way I left things with Ella last night. I don't like that she was upset and I don't like that I had to watch her walk away from me when really, I should have been her biggest supporter. I don't even know where our conversation went wrong. One minute we were talking about the team and the next minute I'm a male whore who won't allow my best friend out of her room to socialize.

I don't know what came over me, but the minute she talked about having a relationship, or the mere thought of some sleezeball with his hands on her, I shut down. I want her to be happy here, whatever that means for her, but I never really sat and thought about how I might feel if she were to start dating someone. She's my best friend. My ride or die. I would do anything for her, and I love her more than I could ever explain, but how do I tell someone I'm not romantically involved with that watching her fall in love and grow alongside some other man isn't something I think I can do? It was easy in high school because I knew in the back of my brain that whatever boyfriend she may have had at the time wouldn't last. She wouldn't marry the guy and she would somehow or another always be my Ella.

But now?

She's a grown ass woman with dreams and aspirations. And she deserves everything in life that she wants. But having it all happen in my house while I stand by and watch?

No.

Nope.

I can't do it.

It would crush me.

Ella's right. She's a relationship kind of girl. She always has been. She's the super romantic type with wishes of love notes and flowers and little acts of kindness that make her swoon. She's always been a sucker for heartfelt romcom movies or the dramatic love saga television shows. Her mindset was always if it can happen on the screen, it can happen in real life. She's still that girl even after all these years. The pain and heartache that life throws at her still hasn't dampened her spirit.

I think she still hopes Richard Gere will drive up to her house in a limo with flowers in his hand like he did in Pretty Woman. I think she wants Andrew Lincoln to stand outside her door with a sign that says " To Me You Are Perfect." like he did in Love Actually . She definitely wants Ryan Gosling to kiss her in the rain and then build her dreamhouse for her like he does in The Notebook .

Consequently, she always refused to watch shows like Alien or Dexter .

Sweat soaks my body as I take my last few jogging steps into my building. I bend over at the waist momentarily to catch my breath, and then make my way to the elevators. Once the door closes behind me, I feel my chest tighten and I start to panic.

Shit.

Is this fixable?

Is she going to be mad at me when I walk in the door?

I should've apologized last night.

I should've made sure she was okay.

I should've fucking checked on her at least once instead of lying in my bed wide awake.

Was this all a horrible mistake?

Did I fuck up by asking her to move in with me?

Maybe I should look into buying her her own place.

Like she would ever let you do that, Blackstone.

Fuck.

She would be heartbroken if I even mentioned her going somewhere else now.

A surefire way to lose my best friend.

And that's the last thing I want.

The elevator dings for my floor and before the doors open, I'm already cringing at the smell permeating the air. That distinctive smell that tells me exactly what's going on inside my apartment. The scent that tells me to drop every thought or feeling of doubt I was having about my best friend because she needs me.

"Dammit." I bring a palm to my forehead. "Her interview."

She needs me and I wasn't here.

I left her this morning and now the entire floor of the building, along with most likely many others in proximity, smells like a goddamn cinnamon roll.

Pushing open my apartment door, I expect to see Ella in the kitchen or at the dining room table stuffing her face with ooey gooey goodness, but that is not the case. What I do see, however, is my living room looking like a department store at the end of a Black Friday sale.

"What the fuuuuck?"

Ella's clothes are everywhere. Literally on every surface of the room. Several pairs of shorts, pants, and even a few skirts are strung over the couch and chair along with six different colored tank tops, a black blazer, a solid red shirt, a blue shirt, a pink and green striped shirt, a purple flowery blouse, and four different pairs of shoes. Two bras, two thongs, and three pairs of panties are hanging from the television causing my mind to wander to places it should dare not go.

Do not think about Ella in a thong.

For the love of God do not think about it.

What size was that bra? B cup? C? Double D?

Fuck. Stop it August.

Her makeup is scattered across my coffee table from end to end along with a hairbrush, four hair clips, hairspray, and a bottle of perfume.

Trying my best to shut out the mess that is now my apartment, I focus on following the scent of cinnamon rolls filling my nostrils.

"Ella?" I shout, hoping wherever she is she'll hear me and feel better that I'm home.

"Hmmm?" she murmurs from somewhere in the apartment.

I take one glance into the kitchen and stop in my tracks.

"Oh, my God, you've got to be kidding me," I mumble to myself at the sight before me. On the counter next to the stove are at least a dozen boxes of Cinnabon cinnamon rolls in varied sizes. A few of them lay open with strings of icing the only remaining evidence of Ella's anxiety.

"Auggie, I need your help!" I turn just in time for Ella to come around the corner into the kitchen, a cinnamon roll box in hand as she stuffs another piece into her mouth.

Also, she's not wearing clothes.

Okay, she's in a black bra and matching panties so she's wearing clothes but she is sooo not wearing clothes.

"Whoa. What are you doing?" I ask, immediately squeezing my eyes closed and covering them with my hand.

"What do you mean what am I doing?" she cries. "I'm trying to get ready for my interview Aug and I need your help! I don't know what to wear! I've been through every fucking outfit I own and nothing feels right and I don't know what they're going to expect. Do I wear a suit? Like dress pants and my blazer? Do I go casual and wear leggings and one of your hockey t-shirts?" She pops another bite of cinnamon roll into her mouth. "I'm at Defcon-five over here and where the hell were you this morning? You left me and didn't tell me where you were going."

"Shit. I'm sorry. Force of habit," I tell her with a shake of my head. "Morning workout downstairs and then I went for a run."

She doesn't say anything for a minute before I hear, "What's going on? Why aren't you looking at me?"

"Because you're not wearing any clothes."

"Pfft," she scoffs. "Okay Mr. Pump and Dump, like you've never seen a woman in her underwear before. It's me Auggie. Not your grandmother."

"Thank God for that. Grandma's been dead for fifteen years."

"Would you please uncover your eyes and look at me so you can help me? I'm not sure I can be more nervous than I am right now and you're not helping."

Slowly I open my eyes, reminding myself that she's my best friend. Not some puck bunny I bend over from time to time.

She's Ella.

She's my absolute best friend.

I knew her when she had no boobs.

But hell, does she have boobs now.

I glance at them as haphazardly as I can without looking like a perv.

Fuck me. They're nice boobs too.

Pretty.

Perfect size. Perfect shape.

Perky too.

Ugh.

Get a fucking grip.

My eyes land on the part of her I had forgotten about over the years. Just above her heart sits a small owl tattoo. It was the very first tattoo she ever got and I remember she wanted me to hold her hand as she got it. She was so fucking brave that day. She didn't need me, but I was happy to be there for her.

A tightness pulls in my chest so I gesture to the obscene number of cinnamon rolls on the counter. "Babe, did you really order all this?"

"Yeah. You didn't have any I could make so I just Door-Dashed the whole menu." She tears another piece off and shoves it in her mouth. "You know I crave cinnamon rolls when?—"

"When you're nervous." I nod. "I remember. This looks more like you're going to be nervous for the rest of the year."

"I know, I know." Her eyes are watery as she twists her hair around her finger. "But what if I told you I have no self-control when I'm nervous and so I couldn't help myself and once I saw the menu I wasn't sure how much I would want to eat because I was hungry but then like, not hungry at all, you know? Because the last thing I want to do when I'm nervous is eat but then I get this craving and I just have to have it and I couldn't stop myself this time so before I knew it I had clicked though the entire menu and hit submit."

Another thing my best friend does when she's nervous?

She rambles.

"I was sure to give one to the doorman when he brought my order up this morning though so that was nice. And of course you should eat some. Obviously, I won't be able to eat all of this, but I can save them. Maybe freeze them for another time." She wraps her hand around my wrist. "Oh, and I promise I'll clean up this mess, okay? I just needed space to lay everything out so I could decide what to wear, only I couldn't decide on business professional or business casual since, well, you know, a mascot doesn't usually wear dress pants and heels, but I don't have the job yet so I wasn't sure and now that's where you come in because?—"

"Ella." I stop her with the placement of my hands on her shoulders.

She finally swallows the bite of cinnamon roll in her mouth. "Yeah?"

"Take a deep breath with me."

I take a slow deep breath, my eyes locked on hers as she breathes in with me. We both breathe out as I count to ten in my head.

"Team colors. Navy blue dress pants are fine. Yellow top. A small pair of earrings and wear your hair in a ponytail. The curly kind you do when you're cheering."

"Heels?"

I nod and give her an approving smile. "Heels. And you don't need a ton of makeup. You're stunning just the way you are."

Her cheeks pinken as she tilts her head in a nod and then reaches up to kiss the side of my face. "Thank you, Auggie."

Trying to break her anxiety I glance down at her chest and wink. "The lace bra is nice but a little much for a job interview…you know, if you were wondering."

She rolls her eyes. "I don't care about my bra. This one makes me feel good. And pretty. And confident. But I'm ninety-nine percent sure nobody at the Anaheim Stars is going to see my black lacey bra today so that's inconsequential but thank you just the same."

"My pleasure. I'm going to hit the shower."

I give Ella a little time to herself to finish getting dressed, which gives me the opportunity to walk away from my nearly naked best friend before my mind starts playing tricks on me. Once I'm stripped down and in the shower it dawns on me that I haven't called on any of the puck bunnies usually on standby in weeks.

Since I offered my place to Ella.

Fuck.

I invited my best friend to live with me and now she's the cock block I never saw coming.

Coming…

Christ, I may never be coming again if this keeps up.

I stare down at my hand as if it just stood up and offered its services to my deprived cock. "No way, man. Not doing it," I whisper to my hand. "Especially not with Ella in my apartment."

Yep.

I just talked to my hand.

Fuck, this is how it starts, isn't it?

I'm going crazy.

Quickly moving through the rest of my shower, I grab a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and pull them on before checking on one more time Ella before she leaves for her interview.

"Want me to drive you?"

"What?" She shakes her head. "No, no. It's fine." She tries to square her shoulders as she tilts her head to put an earring in her ear. "I should do this myself, you know? Independent and all. Besides, I don't want it to look like I got this job because of you." She blinks, hearing what she just said. "I mean not that I would get it because of you. I just mean, well?—"

"I know what you mean, babe. It's fine." I pull my keys out of my pocket. "Want to take my car?"

"Oh, uh," she says with a furrowed brow. "I can probably just get an Uber."

"Nonsense. Why pay for that when you can literally drive yourself? There's a parking pass in the car. You won't have to pay a thing. Here." I hand my keys to her. "You'll be safer in my car than with some stranger anyway."

"You're sure?" The look of apprehension in her eyes has me wrapping my arms around her.

"Of course I'm sure."

Holding her against my chest, I feel her inhale a deep breath and slowly release it. "You smell nice," she says.

"Not as good as you." I give her a kiss on her forehead and tilt her face up to mine. "Listen, you're going to do great today. I have no doubt that job will be yours within the hour and when that happens, we'll celebrate."

"What if it?—"

"Nope," I say confidently, shaking my head. "There are no what-ifs right now. Only positive vibes for what will be."

She nods decisively. "Right. Okay. I've got this."

"You've got this." I repeat her words back to her with a smile and then playfully spank her ass. "Now get out of here and do your thing, Ella Montgomery. I believe in you."