“Too bad,” I say, turning toward Santo. Wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, I pull him into a filthy fucking kiss. He even looks a little dazed by the time he comes up for air. “Did I make my point clear?”
“You did to me,” he breathes, his pupils blown.
“Good,” I say, leaving the room.
“We aren’t done yet!” Coach screams.
“Yeah, we are,” I say, ignoring everyone else as I go to shower.
I’m not fucking doing what Marilyn wants me to do. I’m supposed to play hockey, and that’s it.
4
CAELIA
Addie messaged me while I was sleeping, and I sigh in relief.
Addie
Ugh those assholes! To bigger and better things, babe!
I send her a quick message back, stretching as I sit up before I remember what I promised my dad yesterday. Taking my time, I dress in black leggings with bows up the side, a red lace shirt that I layer with a shirt that asks where the ghouls are. I also wash my face, brush my teeth, and then put on my makeup.
I use a lighter touch, but my lips are still a dark red. No matter what I do, my hazel eyes still manage to look doe-like and huge. Dangerous is relative, but I make sure to hide my new stun gun in my boots today. I trust my dad to keep me safe, but I know how quickly things can go pear shaped.
I take my alpha scent blockers and heat suppressant with a big gulp of water, hoping that the alpha pheromone blockers will help my anxiety. If it doesn’t, I may ask Dad about finding a doctor to prescribe medication for it.
I just want to be able to function like a normal freaking person. Knowing my best friend would tell me that normal is relative, I sigh and add a small amount of patchouli oil to my wrists.
Trudging down the stairs, I meet my dad at the bottom, who appears very amused in a pair of jeans and polo shirt.
“Is this the toned down version?” he asks.
“It is,” I admit. “Are we still going skating today?”
“Yes. Grab something for breakfast from the kitchen and let’s go. I have protein bars if you want to go that route,” he suggests.
There’s a small over-the-shoulder bag that I left in the kitchen, and I throw my phone inside of it as I grab a bottle of water and a banana.
It’s not a protein bar, but I don’t work out nearly enough. I know the dangers of cramping, and want to avoid that at all costs.
Dad suppresses a smile as he sees my food choices, shrugging. “You’re stubborn, but at least you’re eating. Let’s go.”
We left my car at the stadium last night, because I couldn’t drive. Getting into Dad’s pick up truck, I eat my breakfast as he drives.
“I’ve been thinking about your job search,” he says tentatively, waving at the guard at the gate as he continues through to park.
The stadium looms in front of me, and I take a breath, my hand on my sternum as I nod.
“Mmhmm?”
“I may have a short term solution,” Dad says. “Let me see how it pans out before I tell you.”
“Okay,” I say, only half listening.
“I have your skates. I packed them earlier along with mine. Your shoe size hasn’t changed, right?”
“No, it’s still the same,” I muse, twisting to see the bag he’s talking about is behind me.
