She snorts. “But you already have me. Remember? We’ve been dating for a while now.”
“I forgot about that. Wow, you’re right. You’re a terrible girlfriend for not buying me anything.”
She lets out a mock-offended gasp, wriggling harder like she might finally escape. “See!”
I laugh and catch her before she can roll away. “I’m kidding. We can just say I accidentally left your present at school, and we’ll exchange our own later. How does that sound?”
“Like you’re the best.”
“Great,” I murmur, kissing the top of her head. “Now go back to sleep because it’s?—”
I reach for my phone, squinting against the harsh blue glow of the screen. The notification staring back at me isn’t the time; it’s a message from Coach. My stomach drops.
“Shit.”
“What’s up?” she asks.
“Our starting forward was an idiot and went skiing and broke his leg—so Coach wants everyone back to campus early because we’re going to need to rearrange the lines. He wants us back for a seven a.m. practice on the 27th.” I swallow. “Which means?—”
“You have to leave tomorrow,” she says quietly.
“Yeah. I do.” I drop my head back on the pillow. The ceiling is still dark, but it feels lower now, like it’s closing in on me. “I have a full scholarship,” I say, half to her, half to myself. “This will all be worth it someday.”
There’s a beat of silence. She doesn’t say anything. I don’t, either. I’m trying to hold on to the warmth of her pressed against me now that I know I’m on borrowed time.
I hoped I’d have another week to show her how good we are together. I don’t. All I can do is hope that the few days we’ve had like this have been enough. When we’re back on campus, and the spirit of Christmas is gone, hopefully she’ll want to spend more time and continue…whatever this is.
What could be more romantic than January? With its dirty snow and grey skies. Who knows, maybe I’m wrong and it’ll be the perfect time to fall in love.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
COLE
For the lastthree Christmases I’ve sat alone in my apartment playing video games. I’ve been sort of lonely, sure, but at least I wasn’t in the middle of some screaming match between my parents. Or worse, the awkward passive-aggressive shit they throw at me trying to get me to like them more than the other.
So I haven’t had a Christmas dinner—let alone an Italian one, heavy with pastas, meats, and all the cookies and espresso—in a long time. I haven’t watched parents dance in the kitchen to Christmas music, or sit by a fire with hot cocoa and more cookies. I haven’t had Natalie curled against me under a weighted blanket while we made our way through every Christmas movie known to man. So for a few hours, time stopped and I soaked in the magic of the holidays. I soaked inher.The way she curled to my side, the way her laugh echoed in my chest like it was calling to me.
But now it’s the day after Christmas, and instead of laying on a half-inflated air mattress with her like I want to be, I’m in the backseat of her parents’ car on the way to the airport. Every mile feels like a countdown to the end.
Outside the window, a white landscape rushes past while I keep my eyes from darting to Natalie. I have no idea how to go back to my normal life without her. Not after I know what it feels like to hold her in my arms and brush my lips against hers.
Her voice cuts through my thoughts, soft but steady. “Cole?”
I turn, and god, I’m weak. I try to smile, but it feels heavy. Like my mouth forgot how already. “What’s up?”
“What will you do after the tournament? Will you go back home?”
I shake my head. “I usually just stay on campus,” I say. “That’s why we got the apartment. The dorms close for winter break, so I used to not have a choice, but now I do.”
“And you choose not to go home?”
“Too much drama still between my parents. Caden’s path has been pretty set for a while. My mom is pretty adamant that I should be a doctor and my dad thinks I should sign my contract with Edmonton, since they’re the club that drafted me a few years back. Anytime I do something that suggests I’m favoring one path, they take it personally. Like I’m choosing one parent over the other too. It’s easier to just stay out of it.”
“Do you know what you want?” I ask.
You.
