I regarded him again, debating whether or not he should see that side of me.
“When are you picking me up?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - GAVIN
I THOUGHT I had prepared myself for whatever person Chloe had warned me of that might come out at the hockey game. I thought she could do nothing to make me fall in love with her any more than I already was.
I was wrong.
Chloe was an animal.
From the moment the players had their first face-off, she was cheering, clapping, and yelling. And the longer the game went on, the more comfortable she got making friends with the people around us. She was her most primal self—completely undone of any restraints that might have held her back in other aspects of her life. It was as if she allowed herself freedom there, zero fucks given to anyone who might judge her for her excitement.
I took my phone out to take a photo of her after she’d shouted something at the glass. She caught me and stuck out her tongue, then sat back in her chair, her body leaning into mine, and she took the phone from my hands to take a selfie of us. My heart stammered at the laughter in her eyes and the genuine smiles on our faces. I wanted to grab her and kiss her, take another photo as I claimed her as my own.
However, her attention was again on the game when the players drove the puck to this end, and I had to swallow the lump in my throat. Every time she looked back at me, I lost track of what was happening on the ice. I didn’t even know the score.
Looking back through my pictures, I realized the last two weeks had been nothing more than photos of her, of our time together, of her and I living in stolen moments. Living without her seemed like a waste of the centuries I’d simply waded through.
When the first period was over, Chloe sat back in her seat, exhausted from the effort of her enthusiasm. I put my phone in my pocket as she wiped her face and pushed her hair back, leaning over her knee and turning toward me. She chuckled under her breath.
“I told you you wouldn’t want to be seen with me at a hockey game,” she said.
“Baby, you’re the highlight of the fucking game,” I said. “I didn’t know you liked hockey so much.”
Her smile broadened. “Lana used to fuck one of the players on the Cyclones back home,” she said. “It was an easy sport to love.”
“You and Lana together at a game? That sounds dangerous,” I said.
“Oh, it was,” she agreed. “When Tyler and I first started dating, we all went to a game together, and I embarrassed him so much. I think he actually walked out and watched it by the concession stands. It was his first taste of Lana, and he still hasn’t recovered.”
“Whenever you tell me a story like that, I can’t for the life of me figure out why you’re with him,” I said bluntly.
She laughed. “Well… maybe I thought he was safe. That he was the best I would find when I realized I would probably never hear from you again—that you had no way of finding me once I deleted everything and moved.”
“And yet, we’re here,” I said, reaching for her fingers.
She smiled at the ground before glancing back at me. “As Lana would say: look at the universe.”
“Look at the fucking universe,” I repeated.
Her eyes stayed on me for a beat, long enough for my heart to stumble.
“What are you thinking?” she asked.
“I’m thinking about how I never want to see that smile fade from your face and all the ways I can be sure of that,” I answered. “What are you thinking about?”
Her bottom lip drew behind her teeth, eyes darting from my own to my lips, and I stilled when she leaned into me. “I’m thinking how every time I see you looking at me like that, I want to kiss you,” she said softly. “I’m thinking that these last couple of weeks, I’ve been happier than I’ve been in years, and how I still feel like myself when I'm with you. I’m thinking that for the first time in my life, a relationship doesn’t feel like a trap, that you are terrifying and thrilling and addicting all at once. And I’m not sure how much longer I can resist not having you.”
I angled closer, my ears ringing. “So, stop resisting,” I said. “You already have me, baby.”
Her bottom lip quivered as we sat there motionless, so close that we shared visible breath, our foreheads almost touching. My eyes closed as she inclined her head, and our lips brushed faintly. It was a whisper of ecstasy that nearly sent me to the edge of no return.
I almost fell when she jolted out of her seat.
Cold air washed over me, breath finally leaving my lungs. I looked up at her as she crossed her purse over her body. Her face was red, her chest heaving like she, too, was catching a breath.
“I need to use the restroom,” she said in haste. “Do you… do you need anything?”
