Page 5 of Holiday Hostilities
He was given that stupid shirt as part of a hazing prank when he was named captain of the high school hockey team his senior year. He was forced to wear it every game day that season, but I don’t think the guys were expecting him to wear itquiteso proudly, with not a hint of shame whatsoever.
Although, in his defense, MILFs loved him, too. I knew this from spending countless hours spectating his and Jake’s hockey games and watching all the moms inappropriately swoon every time Aaron looked up at the crowd.
“Come on now, Grizzy.” Aaron’s eyes crinkle at the corners as he ignores my dig at his former fashion faux pas. Instead, he smirks his stupid face off and makes no attempt to wipe my disgusting mouth-beer off his previously crisp and clean white t-shirt. “You didn’t need to literally throw yourself at me, then make up a story like you haven’t been glaring at me for the past half hour.”
“I was throwing myself at the exit, actually,” I retort, wondering if he was always this damned smug, or I just forgotthe extent of it. Seems like the years of pro hockey have made him even more pleased with himself. “Felt a little nauseous being in your vicinity.”
This earns me a lopsided smile. Insufferable man. “And here I was thinking you were in a desperate hurry to come dance with me.”
“Never!” My cheeks burn as I glower at him. I’m 5’9”, and in these heels I probably graze six feet, but I still have to look up to meet his stupid green eyes.
“Man, it’s good to see you,” he drawls as his gaze rakes up and down my body. For a moment, I feel entirely exposed. Naked.
“Wish I could say the same to you,” I snap back, which makes his eyes twinkle.
“What are you doing in Atlanta, Lil Griz?” His expression is no longer playful, instead full of what looks like genuine curiosity.
As if I’m going to tell him that, after living abroad for years, I’ve been feeling more and more isolated as everyone around me settled down with close family and friends, and that now, I’m hoping to move to Atlanta to put down some roots near the only familyIhave.
“Do we really need to call me that?” I sigh. Jake and I have the last name Griswold, and as he became known as “Griz” with his hockey friends—a nickname which has clearly stuck—Aaron coined me “Lil Griz”. Much to my chagrin, everyone referred to me as such until I got out of our hometown in New Jersey and moved to London.
“We really do,” he replies with an angelic smile that makes me want to smack him.
So much for being all adult and mature about this.
“There you are!” Jimmy pops up next to me, relief dancing over his features as he confirms that I’m still in one piece and notfaceplanted on the dance floor. “Oh good, Marino already found you.” He looks at his teammate. “Where’d your date go?”
“Bathroom.” He shrugs, like he couldn’t care less where his beautiful date is right now.
For some reason, this infuriates me.
“Shouldn’t you be with her?” I demand.
“I’m not sure the management of this lovely establishment would take too kindly to a 6’5” hockey player frequenting their women’s restrooms,” Aaron smirks. “Plus,shemight not take too kindly to that either.”
I roll my eyes. “If she has any sense at all, she’ll escape through the bathroom window and flee.”
“Is that what you think,” Aaron says, his voice level so it’s a statement, not a question. His eyes glint, like he’s arrogant enough to believe that I was referring to what happened that night, all those years ago.
Which I absolutely wasnot.
I try not to let it get under my skin. Remind myself that that was then, and this is now.
And now, I’m an adult. An adult with no need to dredge up my teenage petulance, because I have a whole life that has nothing to do with him. A life where my braces are finally off, and I have a career and a straightening iron that actually sort of works.
“You tell me,” I say with a smirk of my own.
Just like I don’t know today’s version of Aaron, he doesn’t know the current me. I’m a strong, independent woman who had a momentary lapse in judgment a very long time ago.
And no matter how good he looks tonight, that fact hasn’t changed.
It’s clearly not the only thing that hasn’t changed. Because he goes on to wink at me, and then walk off without a care in the world… to approach the only other redhead besides me on thedance floor. Who, predictably, practically falls at his feet giggling the second she notices his attention.
What a douche.
Luckily, my impending move is about looking forward, not backward.
It’s just a pity that “moving forward” means relocating to the city this goon lives in.