Dad once told Meave and me that love is as much an action as it is a feeling.
Meave at least had found someone long term.
So why is it so hard for me? What am I doing wrong?
I guess that’s what I’m looking for. Someone to choose me every day.
My back falls deeper into the booth behind me, listening to Elliot talk. I’m straddled between my thoughts and the present moment. And if I had a third leg, it would be in the past.
Dawson and Jaxon join us at the table.
Taking the final sip of my drink, I push the glass covered in condensation to the center of the table, excusing myself to the bathroom.
Cooper’s leaning across from the women’s restroom when I exit into the dark hallway. No one else is back here; both bathroom locks say vacant.
I take a small step forward, into the only space between us after he pushed off the wall, only to stumble backward into the door. Cooper catches my head in the cradle of his hand before it hits the door.
Ensuring I’m steady, he pulls his hand away, taking hold of my chin again. The touch more urgent than it was earlier at the table.
A desperation in his flaring pupils. Moonlight pours in from the window in the exit door to the left of me. Paints him golden.
“There is nothing to fix about you because nothing is broken. Just because you aren’t good at this”—he waves his free hand around—“doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you.Please, don’t think there’s something wrong with you.” The wayhe says please is as if he’s begging. I try to fight staring at him, but his touch and words are a lasso around me. I fail to look anywhere other than in his eyes. “Can you do that for me?”
Clunky and tight, I nod.
“No, Dave. I’m a words kind of guy. I need to hear you.”
“I’ll try.” Yes would have been a lie. So would no.
Those two words must be enough; his mouth softens. “Good girl.” And those two words have they non-existent gap between my thighs closing in. Hopefully, he doesn’t sense the way my legs press together. I’ll add this to list of reasons to hate him.
“Plus, this is practice. All that matters is game time.”
“Practice,” I say, annoyed, and definitely not with any ounce of appreciation. Butterflies in my stomach try to escape at the loose smile painted on him, but I keep the net over them tight.
“Repeat it back to me. What did we just learn?” He’s still holding my chin, his face closer to mine. The buzzing around us irrelevant, we are completely isolated in a bubble.
“Practice makes perfect.”
“And?” His hold, his stare, they burn into me. Tug at something that’s been long forgotten…on purpose.
“I’m not broken.” Cooper doesn’t realize how badly I needed that reminder. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”
“And you’re wanted.” His thumb swipes up my cheek, pushing a loose curl behind my ear. Eyes drop to my mouth, and for a minute, I think he might do something stupid like kiss me. Stupidly, I’d probably let him. For practice…of course.
Cooper finds my eyes again. He stares at me for a beat. I blink and he’s heading out the back door. I want to chase after him. Say it back. Tell him that he isn’t broken either.
TEN
SUTTON
I shovean arm into my sweater, exchanging my bag from one shoulder to the other, to pull the extra layer of warmth over my head. Days have passed since the speed dating, and finally it’s the training rink chills my body. There’s been an underlying warmth consuming me, a fire stoked by my brain failing me and replaying Cooper in the bathroom hallway.
It’s been easy to ignore him, it’s one of my best skills, except being paired up for my independent study. Which is the only reason I’m at his practice.
The Pond is Lakeland’s training rink for the ice hockey and figure skating teams. It’s located in the same building as the main arena, on the far side of the entrance and main concourse. Team locker rooms are between the two with hallways and entrances that lead to each.
I climb the metal bleachers opposite the players’ bench. There are only seven rows, but I select a seat in the top row where the lights are dimmer. Hopefully Cooper or anyone from the team doesn’t notice me.
