Sleet Kitten: Book One of the Sleet Series

I’m either a genius, or a lunatic that should be locked away from society. We just sat down at the Northern Grill in the Mall of America. We basically all showed up at the same time, from different directions, so the introductions have just finished. Meghan is the only new one in the bunch, but she is such a firecracker that she immediately fits right in. 

I’m not at all worried about Izzy and Meghan working together; they’ll be a dream team of beautiful nerds. Meghan and Steph though, together they might be the perfect storm. They’re both so energetic, I almost wonder how long they could keep each other going.

The conversation is easygoing. The level of excitement radiating off our table is drawing some added attention, but I think we have a fierce enough vibe going on that the couple guys at the bar who keep eyeing us should stay away. Seeing as there’s not a single wedding ring at this table, we need to send out Back Off energy, because tonight is about bonding, not about boys.

Boys. Boy, I cannot stop thinking about Jackson. Last night, for the first time ever, I sat in my house and watched a hockey game on TV. And it was just as stressful as when I went in person. I’ll never admit this to anyone, but I wore his jersey while I watched. Not out of any superstition, just because I wanted to. I also found myself tempted to call Mary so she could calm me down with her chattering, just like she did before I knew she was his mama. I didn’t call though. It seemed a touch too stalker-y to be calling my maybe-boyfriend’s mom this soon in our maybe-relationship.

Just as before, I had nothing to worry about. The Sleet won their game, and Jackson played amazingly. I know this because it looked like he was playing well, and because the announcers kept saying his name and praising this move or that pass. Also as before, I found myself proud of him. I’m still waiting for the part of Jackson that will make him more human. Push him back towards the mortal side of the spectrum. He just seems a little too perfect. Like there has to be something I’m missing.

Not sure how busy he would be right after the game, I shot him a text about an hour after it finished, congratulating his win. To my surprise, and stuttering pulse, his response was to call me. I will be forever grateful that it was a regular call and not FaceTime, because I blushed the second I heard his voice. Plus, I was already in my pajamas. Meaning no bra, no makeup, and messy hair.

Our call was brief; since Jackson was just about to hop on the bus to head back to the plane to come home. He said he called since it’s safer than walking and texting, and because he wanted to hear my voice. I swooned. I swooned hard enough that I couldn’t think of a single goddamn thing to say in response to that, to which Jackson cracked a joke about needing me to actually speak if he was going to get to hear my voice. That brought me out of it enough to have a conversation. 

I don’t know what he’s doing tonight, but he said his mama already told him that I’d be out with the girls and that he needed to leave me alone. I’m desperate to see him again, but I’m thankful he didn’t try to interfere with our girls’ night. I don’t know if I would’ve been able to resist him if he tried to steal me away, and this time with my friends is important.

“And this is what I like to call Catatonic Katelyn,” I hear Meghan say.

“Huh?” I realize I’ve been zoning out and find all three girls staring at me. Meghan is looking particularly smug, so I direct my false confidence at her. “I wasn’t being catatonic anything. I’m here in the now. Super Zen.”

Meghan rolls her eyes. “You’re not even fooling these newbies here with that line of bullshit. Pretty sure even grandpa over there, with his hearing aid turned off to drown out his daughter-in-law, can hear how full of shit you are.”

I can’t help it. I turn to look at the table in the corner. Sure enough, there’s a large group and the old man looks so focused on his meal that he doesn’t even bat an eye at the flailing hands of the younger woman who’s talking loudly next to him. There’s no way for Meghan to prove her hearing-aid theory, but I wouldn’t bet against her.

I shake my head and see I’m not the only one who looked. Izzy seems legitimately concerned about grandpa.

“Anyways…” Meghan draws the word out, “You were obviously daydreaming about Jackson.” Shooting a look at Steph, Meghan says, “Is it going to gross you out to hear about your brother as a love interest?”

Steph makes a face. “ ‘Love interest?’ Okay, Grandma.”

Meghan laughs. “You know what I mean. A sexual being.”

“It doesn’t bother me, unless you refer to him again as a sexual being,” Steph shudders, then turns to me. “I mean, if you guys blow each other, I sure as fuck don’t want the details, but you can say ‘we had sex.’ I can deal with that.”

Meghan smirks. 

Izzy giggles. 

I blush.

I shake my head. “You guys are whacked in the thinker. And no, we haven’t blown each other. Or had sex. We haven’t even really kissed.”

That gets a reaction. There’s a chorus of “wait, what?” “really,” and “how is that possible?!’

I slouch back in my chair. “Honestly, he’s being a real fucking tease. If he doesn’t put out soon, I’m going to end up with blue balls. Blue uterus. Whatever.” I glance over. “Sorry, Steph.”

She shrugs. “Don’t apologize to me. Hell, I feel like I should be apologizing on behalf of the Wilder family. What’s his hold up?”

“Yeah, what the hell?” grumbles Meghan.

“It’s obvious he likes you,” Izzy adds in, sounding like she’s trying to cheer me up. “With the way he is around you, you can just tell.”

Meghan hums, “So what happened after these guys left his place the other night? Izzy said you stayed behind.”

I look at Izzy, wondering when she told them, causing Meghan to laugh. “I called it! Told you you were going all Catatonic Katelyn earlier. If you had been listening, you’d have heard Izzy tell us.”

“Okay, okay. Yes, I stayed down in the theater while Jackson walked everyone out. When he came back, we sat for a moment and we talked about yet another night going haywire on us.” I pause for a moment, not quite sure how to explain what happened, especially in front of Steph.

“Spit it out, woman!” Meghan leans forward across the table, clearly impatient with my stalling.

“Right, so… he kinda pulled me down.”

“Pulled you down?” Izzy asks.

Gah, why does she have to look so innocent while she asks that?

“Yeah.”

Steph bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, just explain what the hell happened. Your blushing and over-thinking is making my imagination go wild! We know you didn’t even kiss, so – out with it!”

“Fine! Okay!” I decide keeping my gaze on the table and talking fast is the best way though this. “He got up like to leave, but then he grabbed my ankles and pulled me so I was flat on my back on the couch. Then he climbed on top of me and while I was pinned beneath him, he started whispering in my ear about how he wanted to make his intentions clear. And that he would make me his, but that I wasn’t ready for him yet because he’s a lot to handle.”

Crickets.

Raising my eyes, I find all three of them staring at me. Mouths slightly open.

Meghan’s the first to talk. “Holy fuck, that’s hot.”

Izzy clears her throat.

“I want to be grossed out by that, but I gotta admit it was a pretty great move on his part,” Steph says, begrudgingly.

“That’s not the first time he’s gotten close to me. But it was the first time he freaking climbed on top of me.”

“Steph, close your ears,” Meghan says, and I just dread whatever question is going to come out of her mouth next. Steph does not cover her ears, and Meghan carries on anyway. “So, did you get a feel of his equipment?” She follows the question with an eyebrow bob.

Steph puts her hands over her face, laughing, and I just blush harder.

“That’s a yes.” Meghan beams. “I’ll skip the follow-up questions, given the company, but don’t think I won’t be asking about this later.”

“Can’t wait,” I say in a tone that implies I really can.

We both know I’ll tell her all the details. Men don’t seem to understand that women tell each other everything. Like, everything. Guys might brag about a sexual act in big-picture terms: I hit that, she blew me. But women, we describe in detail. Vivid, accurate, detail. I have a pretty good mental image of basically every dick Meghan has ever seen, and vice versa. So yeah, I’ll give Meghan more details later, but I won’t give those details in front of Steph. Some familial lines should not be crossed.

“We’ve texted and talked on the phone since then.” I sigh. “I’m hoping I’ll get a chance to see him after the game tomorrow night. Maybe I can get that kiss then. I mean, he did – kind of – give me a kiss when I left his place. But it was such a light little peck that it hardly counts.” I tell them. “That’s all the update I have for now. But I promise to fill you guys in if something big happens.” I’m hoping I can push the conversation past Jackson and on to something else for the remainder of the evening.

My plan works, and the rest of dinner is focused on other topics. As we wrap up, I mention that I want to check out what sort of Sleet gear they have at the mall, and Izzy says she knows the perfect shop.

We walk down the wide hallway in a little cluster, talking amongst ourselves. 

Steph is next to me so I hear her say, “Oh fuck,” just before a voice ahead of us calls out: “Steph, is that you?”

Following the voice, I find myself looking at a stunning redhead. Seriously, she looks like she came from a photoshoot. She’s model-tall, and even more so since she’s wearing stilettos. Who the hell wears stilettos to the mall? Her strawberry hair is perfectly straight, around a perfectly done-up face, on top of a painfully thin body, with tits that have got to be man-made. She’s a total knockout. If you go for the red-headed Barbie look.

“So nice to see you,” the mystery woman coos to Steph. “How’s Jackson doing?”

And just like that, I hate her. 

The fact that Mattel Ginger over here knows Jackson makes my bitchy-sense tingle.

“Hi, Lacy.” I don’t even have to look at Steph to know that she’s wearing a blatantly fake smile. “Jackson is doing really, really great. This is his girlfriend, Katelyn.” She gestures to me.

I try to look as nonchalant as possible, even though I want to simultaneously cower and claw this girl’s eyes out. Lacy gives me a very obvious once-over as her smile turns into a sneer. She does not look impressed. Shit, I’m not really impressed with myself either, standing in her vicinity.

“Nice running into you, we have to go.” Steph is already walking, pulling me along with her.

We all allow the following silence to go on for a few minutes until we reach the store we were looking for. 

Once inside I halt Steph, “Umm, care to explain what that was all about?”

“Yeah,” Meghan says, “Who’s the plastic bitch?”

I have to smile; she went to the same place I did with that insult.

Steph grits her teeth for a moment. “That plastic bitch is Lacy. She’s Jackson’s ex. She’s awful. We all hate her. End of story.”

His ex. She said she was Jackson’s ex, not one of his exes. There’s significance in that. But – just like how I don’t want to read about Jackson’s life online – nor do I want to hear about it from his family, either. I decide to focus on the fact that this Lacy person is his ex and not his current. She might be built like a sex doll, but she doesn’t have him now.

“Okay,” I nod.

“Okay?” Steph asks, not believing that I won’t press for more details.

“Yeah. And thank you for calling me his girlfriend. That might not be technically true, but it was great to see the look of horror on her face.”

Steph grins. “The only thing that would’ve made that better would be if I’d’ve punched her in the boob after saying that. Or at the very least beat her with one of those ridiculous shoes.”

Even Izzy comments on that. “Those were pretty impractical shoes for walking at the mall.”

“Yeah, but I bet they’re great for skewering baby bunnies and roasting them over a fire.” Steph makes a face at her own comment. “All right, I’m done now. Lacy is getting no more of my brain space tonight. She’s a stupid whore and I’m sorry you had to meet her. Now let’s shop.”

Finally taking in the store, I smile. I’ll definitely find a few things to buy here. 

As we venture toward the Sleet section, I vow to put Lacy out of my mind. It’s hard to deny that we couldn’t be more different if we tried. But they aren’t together anymore.

And Jackson promised he’d make his move on me soon.