Neon & Nets (Venom Next Gen #1)

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Sofia

I’ve traded my formal dress for sweats and a Snuggie and am crying into my pint of ice cream while watching a B-movie, as is the way of my people. There’s a protocol for breakups, after all, although I’m not sure it applies to me. Knight and I were never officially dating.

I probably don’t even have the right to be this upset. We were never officially anything. No titles, no promises, no ‘this is where we stand’ conversations. Just me, living in a fantasy I’ve built up for years, putting our friendship on this untouchable pedestal like it was the perfect answer to every dream I’ve ever had. And now? Now I’m sitting here, crying into my pint of ice cream like we’ve had some epic breakup, when the truth is, there was nothing real to break. I need to get my head on straight and stop pretending we were more than we were. Because as much as I wanted him to be mine, the reality is, he never really was. I was holding onto a dream, and it’s time to wake up.

But damn it, it still hurts. Even if it wasn’t his intention, Knight made me feel like I wasn’t worth mentioning, like I didn’t even cross his mind when he was planning to go to that stupid charity event. I hate that he made me feel less than, especially when he’s known me my whole life. I’m not just some random girl he can forget about—I’m supposed to be his friend, maybe more. But right now, I feel like nothing to him, and that’s the worst part of all .

But I’ll get over it. I always do. Starting when I run out of tears.

I’m scraping the bottom of my Chunky Monkey when someone knocks on the door of the pool house. “Sofia?” Knight calls. “Can we… talk?”

“Not tonight,” I tell him. “I’m not in the mood for company.”

A pause. “Please?”

I sigh and swirl my spoon through the melted dregs of my comfort food. “I’m tired, Knight.”

There’s another long pause, although I’m pretty sure he’s still out there, trying to think of what to say next. My anger bubbles up again.

“Why can’t you just let this go?” I demand. “We fucked. We had fun while it lasted. Now it’s not fun anymore, so let’s just move on, okay?”

“Sofia, for Christ’s sake. What we did was not fucking .” He makes a noise like a kicked puppy. “It was never like that. Not for me. Look, I’m not going to force my way in, but I hope you’ll let me explain.”

More excuses. More bullshit. It’s the last thing I need. I’m about to put my foot down, when Knight plays his trump card.

“For the paper? Don’t you at least want closure for your thesis?”

That’s it. I climb to my feet, still draped in the comfort of my dinosaur Snuggie, and stalk to the front door. I yank it open and glare out at him. “For the paper,” I agree. “And that’s it.”

Knight’s face cycles through a few expressions—panic, relief, amusement—before it settles into a fond smile. “You’re too goddamn adorable for words.”

“Save the fake compliments,” I command, turning my back on him. “I don’t need your validation. I’m taking the sofa. You can have the chair.” Just to be petty, I lie on my back, taking up the whole sofa as I recline in state. So what if I’m dressed in the adult equivalent of a baby blanket with bright yellow spikes on the top of my head and trailing down my back? So what if the image paused on the TV screen reveals that I was watching She-Ra for the five millionth time? He has no right to judge me.

Knight settles into one of the breakfast nook chairs, moving carefully as if he thinks it might explode the moment he puts his full weight on it. I try to pretend having him this close in that hot-as-hell fitted suit does nothing to me. Well, it only does things to my vagina, not my heart. That is closed for business. I clamp my thighs together, hoping my nether regions will flip over that sign on the door too.

“So,” he begins, scrubbing a hand down his scruff, “you know how you said you couldn’t find any icks?”

I snort. “I found one.”

“Me, too,” Knight agrees. “I made a big ick.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” I deadpan. “Your ick is average at best.”

He cracks a smile. “You don’t mean that.”

I am not going to laugh. That’s how he gets me every time, by being charming and cute and too fucking likeable. I will not stand for it. I will not even recline for it. I sure as shit won’t spread my legs for it. I am a mature, independent woman, and I don’t need a man. Not even this one, much as I want him. I deserve better.

Better than being shunted off to the sidelines.

Better than being a hot guy’s hidden shame.

Better than a hookup with someone who doesn’t value my autonomy.

I.

Deserve.

Better .

I think about that old story about how Violet Newberry’s real dad Jamie pigged my Aunt Phoebe when they were in college. How that broke her.

And then how she rose like a phoenix from the ashes to have a love for the ages with Uncle Silas. Because Uncle Silas is a rare breed of man who accepted and loved her just the way she is, flaws and all.

Holy shit, I think I’m having a revelation over here.

Knight watches my face. “Can I tell you about my average but still memorable ick?”

I wave a hand toward him. “Proceed.”

He takes a deep breath. “So, I’m a lousy communicator.”

That’s his big self-discovery? I roll my eyes. “You don’t say.”

“I do say. Here’s what I did.” He counts his point off on his fingers. “I failed to express my feelings about you. I let you think we were friends when I wanted to be so much more, all because I was afraid if I came on too strong, I’d scare you away. And I’ve waited so long to be with you, I didn’t want to lose you. Now I realize that if I lost you, it wouldn’t just hurt—it would end me. Because you’re not just someone I want. You’re the only one I want to do life with.”

That’s more like it. I shimmy back on the couch so that I can sit upright. Am I already caving? I check in with my body. Dammit all to hell. “Go on.” I say before I can clamp my lips shut.

He exhales and puffs out his cheeks. “I should’ve asked you about the charity event. Believe it or not, I thought I was being sensitive to your needs because I knew about your live jewelry event. And I thought it was wrong to pull you away from your passion for something that wasn’t even important to me, especially after you’ve made it so clear that ‘peopling’ takes so much out of you. This charity thing was just something the team had to do for Dante.”

I wait for my bullshitometer to ping, but it doesn’t. I think Knight actually believes what he’s saying. “You still should’ve asked me. Women like to be able to make their own choices. Men don’t always know what’s best for us, even though they think they do.”

“Yeah, I get that now.” He rubs one shoulder and grimaces. “Knova beat some sense into me earlier. The thing is, I wanted to be the perfect boyfriend, so I tried to do what I thought I was supposed to do. I listened. I took your needs into consideration… or what I thought you needed,” he adds, when I level a glare at him. “I figured if I could read your mind and deliver some sort of fantasy version of myself, you’d have no choice but to fall for me. And the list of icks is so long, I was afraid of accidentally doing any of them for real. You girls can be hard to impress.”

I snort. “It’s because most men don’t even care to try.”

“No, seriously.” Knight flips his palm up and displays the list. “Guys who laugh too much. Guys who take themselves too seriously. Guys who refuse to eat a vegetable like it’s a flex. Guys who wear t-shirts with sexist sayings on the front… okay, that one I understand, but come on. Some of these are contradictory, and a lot of them are inane. How am I supposed to memorize all of them? Oh, here’s another one: When he quotes Monty Python from memory.” Knight flicks his fingers to make the list disappear. “Doesn’t that strike you as petty?”

“So, this is my fault?” I demand. “Just because I was born a woman? I’ve never busted your balls over something petty, Knight. Not one time. Because I would never do that. I’ve always seen the best in you.”

“No, I just…” He leans both elbows on the table and rakes his hand through his hair. His eyes are wild and distracted. “I th ought I could find the magic formula to make you like me, and that if I fucked up, I could just blame it on the list, you know? Laugh it off as part of the experiment. And along the way, I would become the kind of guy you could love.” He swallows hard. “Or something.”

“But Knight,” I say, exasperated, “I already love you. You never had to do anything, just be the man you already are. Don’t you see?”

His jaw drops. We stare at each other across the little wooden table, eyes locked on each other. I can feel the pressure building in the room, crackling between us.

“You could stand to be a better communicator, though,” I add. “That part isn’t wrong.”

“Fair enough. So, let’s clear a few things up.” Knight steeples his fingers. “I want you to be my girlfriend. I already think of myself as your boyfriend. Since the first time we kissed, I haven’t even thought of another woman, let alone touched one. You are it for me, Sofia. As far as I’m concerned, you’re my last first kiss, and it would make me very happy if you felt the same way.”

“Oh.” I swallow hard. “Okay.”

Knight cocks his head. “Okay isn’t a yes. Do I need to write a note, like we did in grade school? Circle yes or no? I think some old, dead country singer even wrote a song about that back in my grandpa’s day.”

A few hours ago, I would have thrown myself into this relationship headfirst. I would have been delighted by his attention, and perhaps more importantly, his validation.

But now, I’m not so sure. I have some work to do on myself before I’m ready to be anyone’s girlfriend. “I need a bit of space,” I say at last. “Because sometimes love isn’t enough. I need to be solid within myself, Knight. I need to work on some things so I can come to you whole and committed to our future.”

“Oh.” Knight picks at his cuticles. “Okay.”

“I don’t just mean tonight. I need time, Knight.”

“I understand. But while you’re thinking about it, could you be at the game tomorrow night?”

“Of course.” I cross my arms over my chest. “I’ll even wear your jersey.”

“That would mean a lot to me,” he admits.

“Is it okay if we work on our friendship for while? I, uh.” I clear my throat. “I promise I won’t date anyone else until I’ve given you an update on my feelings. I’m not afraid of the label, but there are some other conversations I’d like to have in the meantime. The communication on my end hasn’t been all that great either, honestly. I don’t really like myself, Knight. I don’t feel like I can be a good partner to you until I heal that part of me.”

He sits up a little straighter. “What? Why not? You’re amazing, Sofia. You’re talented and funny and—”

“And I don’t value myself as much as I should,” I interrupt. “My body… well, my body has never felt permanent because I’ve always wanted to change it. I want to work on that. All these petty little complaints I have about guys? I have them about myself, too. I’d like to sort that out, and I’m going to warn you right now, it could take a while. Weeks. Months. I don’t know. In the meantime, I don’t think we should sleep together. If you don’t think you can wait that long, I understand, and I give you permission to…”

Knight lets out a bark of laughter. “Sofia, listen to me. Everyone thinks I’m here because Dante gets what he wants. That’s not why I’m here. If I’d have stayed with my old team, I’d be going to the playoffs this year for sure. I chose to be here because I wanted to be around you. Finally feeling worthy of the woman I’ve loved forever, moving home, it matters more than the Stanley Cup. I’ve waited for you my whole life. I can wait a little longer. I will never, ever be with another woman again, got it?”

“O-oh.” Dammit, why did I just say we shouldn’t fuck? In a fair world, a confession like that would be followed up with Earth-shattering sex. Multiple orgasms. The works.

I should at least stick to my own rules, though. Instead of launching myself at Knight and dry humping at the table, I use my words. “I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember too. Funny how it took us so long to get here. We were both in our own way.”

“So, no rush, then. We’ll put a pin in it.” Knight gets to his feet. “We’ll take things slow and focus on getting to know each other on an even deeper level. I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings tonight. I’ll do better.”

“We both will,” I agree. “Do you, uh, want to stay and watch cartoons with me?”

Knight sneaks a glance at the screen. “Nah. I’ve got practice in the morning, and you’ve got school.”

“Right. Responsibilities.” I wrinkle my nose.

“But we should get dinner later this week,” Knight says. “And I’d like to make plans for next weekend. As celibate friends until you’re ready for more. Are you comfortable with that arrangement?”

“Absolutely.” I get up and hold out my arms. “Can I get a hug before you go?”

Knight pulls me close and rests his chin on top of my head. I still want him, but this… is really nice, actually. He’s so solid and warm, he smells delicious, and it occurs to me that I’ve always been able to count on him. He’s been holding me steady fo r as long as I can remember.

I love him. I trust him. And if he feels the same way about me, then maybe I’ve been underestimating myself for a long damn time.

* * *

“Morning, sweetie.” Mom looks up from the toaster when I step into the kitchen. “Want me to pop in a bagel for you?”

“I already had a breakfast burrito.” I need to get going soon, but after the conversation I had with Knight last night, there’s something I need to know. “Mom, can I ask you something?”

She takes a sip of her espresso. “Shoot.”

“Is there…” I take a deep breath. “Is there a reason you kept me out of the spotlight when I was younger?”

I’m braced for a guilty grimace, but Mom smiles at the question. “You mean, when we stopped taking you to big charity events and things like that?”

I trace my index finger across the island countertop, following a trail of mica through the marble. “Yeah. You always took the boys.”

“We used to take you, too, but you so clearly hated it.” Mom smiles fondly and leans over to cup her hands around my cheeks. “You were such a shy, sensitive kid. You always wanted to bring a book with you, and you hated having your picture taken. And this one time—do you remember this?—a player from another team came over to you and tried to talk to you, and you started bawling. He was huge—like six-foot-five with tattoos and a black eye—and you really turned on the waterworks. We had to take you home. Your father teared up. He truly thought you were scarred for life. Totally blamed himself. And you know how he gets when it comes to his only daughter. ”

“I do remember. Since I was so small, that guy was scary. Even though he wasn’t being mean to me at all.” My face is hot against her skin. The details slipped my mind, but I remember being hustled out of the venue. “You must have been so humiliated.”

Mom laughs. “Sweetheart, I wasn’t humiliated. It was a wakeup call. Going to those events made you so miserable. First we had to follow you around to make sure you got ready on time, and then you’d spend the whole event sitting under the table with a book or hiding in the powder room. It took a little meltdown to get your point across, but we finally got it. Your brothers love them because they’re hockey players. They got to see all their idols up close and personal. But you… you hated those events. And as your mother, it gutted me. No parent wants to force their child through something traumatic.” She tilts her head and pauses.

I stare at her. “What?”

“Your dad’s an extrovert, obviously.” Mom chuckles. “And I love parties. You were our little introvert, and once we realized you were happier staying at home with a babysitter, we went that route. As his only daughter, your dad is honor bound to protect you in the Italian way. He used to cradle you in his big, strong arms and make you all the promises. His minuscola principessa . I still remember the day he found out he was going to be a girl dad. He got so emotional.”

My eyes burn, but not from sadness this time. I’m relieved. All I remember from back then was the feeling of being defective. Like little kids do, I got the sense that I’d done something wrong and let my family down in some fundamental way. Instead, my parents were just… being parents. Good parents, in fact.

“Did you ever ask me if that was what I wanted? ”

Mom laughs again. “For the first few events, maybe. Your father made a game out of it.” She lowers her voice an octave and takes a stab at his accent. “ Principessa , would you rather go to a party or stay home with Nancy Drew? What will it be tonight, Sofia: Dante or Goosebumps?”

I laugh and rub my eyes. “Goosebumps every time.”

“Exactly.” Mom lets her eyes roam over me, and her smile hardens into something more concerned. “Is something wrong, honey? Why are you asking me about this now?”

I could tell her. Lay it all out there. Put all my worries into words.

But I got what I needed, and I have a class to get to. “It’s nothing. Your bagel popped, by the way.”

I leave her to her breakfast and hurry off to campus, feeling lighter than I have in years.