Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 520(@200wpm)___ 416(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Vince Tanev
41
your friendly Tampa Bay Ospreys ice king
also known as Vince Cool or Tanny Boy
I snorted at the ice king reference, tapping my thumb on his most recent photograph. It was a professional one I assumed was taken by someone who worked for the team, and it showed him celebrating a goal at their away game earlier in the week.
Clicking out of it, I scrolled past photo after photo of him on the ice, broken up only by him in well-tailored suits showing up to the game, or hanging out with his teammates at the bars they loved to frequent after a win.
I paused when I saw one of him posing with a youth hockey team, clicking to view it bigger. Then, I swiped through the carousel of images showing him skating with the young players and signing sticks and pucks.
“Real genuine,” I mumbled under my breath.
It was almost disappointing, how much his profile confirmed exactly what I’d assumed about him. He was just another cocky playboy athlete with no concept of the real world.
Just like my ex.
James Baldridge had swept me off my feet so quickly it was dizzying. We were in our junior year of college, both drunk at a party when we stumbled into each other. The connection was instant, the sex was hot, and we couldn’t get enough of one another.
The more time we spent together, the more we started falling.
We were soul mates — at least, that’s what it felt like.
But we were complete opposites — him from a well-off family who spent their summers in the Hamptons with Livia’s, and me from a family of hippies who spent our summers tending to our garden. He was well known on campus, the best golfer on the university team and one of the best in the nation. He would go on to play in the PGA Tour, and no one doubted it — not then, not ever in his life.
Meanwhile, I was aimless, getting a communications major with no idea how I would use it. He had aspirations for a future in professional golf, while I was content to waste a day at the beach or volunteering at a local animal shelter.
But that was what I loved most about James. He made me feel safe to be exactly who I was, made me feel like he loved me for me. It was such a refreshing change from all the losers I’d hooked up with in high school and the first couple years of college. James didn’t play games. James showed me what a healthy relationship was. James was end game.
I didn’t realize just how much we didn’t mix — not until I was on his arm at his brother’s wedding.
I was underdressed, unimpressive, and so far from welcome it was painful. I could still close my eyes and feel those judgmental stares from every corner of the venue, how they assessed me and found me wanting.
The only thing that got me through that experience was knowing James loved me, regardless of my status. We were already talking about having a wedding of our own. We were solid. I believed everything he said to me when he swore it didn’t matter that we were different, that our families were different.
He loved me for me, and we were strong enough to weather any storm.
Except the very next weekend after his brother’s wedding, he broke up with me — and his parents made sure I understood why.
It had been two years, and still, my chest stung with the reminder of that heartbreak, of how I’d held fast to every memory of our relationship, and sobbed for a week straight before I finally shoved it all into a box.
I still had that box, though.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to let go of it, of him, entirely.
I was vaguely aware that it wasn’t fair to judge an entire class or system by the action of one jerk and his family, but since no one had yet to prove me wrong, I was steadfast in my beliefs.
And Vince Tanev was of the James Baldridge variety — that I was sure of.
I scrolled all the way to the top of his profile again, tapping on the little arrow that would take me back to my feed.
Except my nail hit the edge of my phone case, and my thumb dropped down on his profile picture instead — therefore, pulling up his latest story.
“Shit,” I cursed, clicking out of it before I even saw what it was. Panic zipped through me with mortification right on its heels.
And then I laughed out loud at myself, because the likelihood that Vince Cool ever looked at who viewed his stories was nonexistent.
But what if he did?
“Good morning, gorgeous.”
I jumped a little at the knock that came on my doorframe with those words, locking my phone screen and tossing it on my desk. Reya didn’t seem to notice as she slid inside the office with Camilla on her heels.