“What was that about?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know him?” I gesture toward the player’s retreating form.
Her eyes follow my hand, and she blushes.
“No, I mean, well, maybe I do now. His name is Sean.” She turns toward the stairs, and we start our trek back up.
I’ll scream if she doesn’t explain.
“And?” I press, trying very hard to not admire the way her jeans hug her every curve.
There’s that damn blush again. She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear, and I grab her arm at the landing. Turning her to look at me, I stare at her, silently demanding an answer.
“He thought I was cute, okay? Is it such a big deal? He put his number on the back of the puck. See?” She grabs it from her bag and holds it out to me.
That motherfucker.Grabbing the puck, I look it over, and sure enough, Sean was nice enough to jot down his number with a smiley face in silver marker.
“Awfully bold of him,” I mutter, pulling her into my side so a couple can pass.
“And why is it bold, Atlas? Huh? So bold to assume someone would think I was pretty enough to talk to?” She scowls at me. Her blue eyes are narrowed in my direction, and for a minute, all I can focus on is the small swirl of green I can see.
“It’sbold, Cora, because for all he knew, I was your boyfriend,” I point out, lowering my face toward hers.
Trying not to be offended at the way she laughs, it’s my turn to glare at her.
“Atlas, be real. Someone like you would never go for someone like me.” She shakes her head, turning to continue up the stairs. “I thought we could get through one night around each other without arguing, but here we are. I’m going to use the bathroom before we head out.” She walks away, not realizing how dumbfounded she’s left me.
Why the fuck wouldn’t I go for someone like her? She’s kind, funny, and so fucking beautiful it makes my chest ache. I don’t have a good way of showing it because I know she deserves someone better than me. Someone who didn’t have shitty parents growing up who didn’t want them. If my own parents didn’t want me, why would she?
I work in a tattoo shop and have a shitty apartment. The only thing I have to offer her is myself, and I know that’s not enough.
Foster life was no different. I twist the puck around in my hand and debate throwing it in the trash can. On one hand, she’ll be pissed, but on the other, I’m saving her some heartbreak or hassle. There is no doubt that Sean is a player. What kind of guy gives a girl his number when she’s already out with another guy? He’s not worthy of her. I’m not either, but at least I’m not a fuckhead on skates.
Pocketing the puck, I see Cora walking toward me. “You ready?”
“Um, almost. I’m also going to use the bathroom too. Wait here a sec?” I turn and head into the men’s room. There are a few stalls along one wall, and sinks, but the urinals catch my attention. Quickly using the bathroom before anyone comes in, I toss the puck into the one I was at and flush.
Washing my hands, I steal a glance at my reflection in the mirror. The look of pride surprises me, but the smile shocks me even more. I find myself doing that a lot lately, and it’s usually when I’m thinking of her.She thinks I don’t like her, but she’s wrong. I like hertoomuch. I don’t know how to not be myself around her, but I think I’m figuring it out. Cora would panic if she knew what was really going through my mind.
“Okay, all set,” I greet her, then steer us toward the exit. There aren’t many people around now, so hopefully it won’t take long to get out. “I’ll have to drop you off at home. Rhett couldn’t get your tire changed, so he had it towed to a buddy’s garage. He’ll take care of it for you, no charge.”
“Shit, okay. Was it that bad? Will I have to wait until Monday to get it back?” she asks with a look of concern as we approach my car.
“No, he’s usually there on Sundays, so I can take you over if you want,” I offer, opening her door again, trying to tame the butterflies I get when she smiles at me.
“Thanks. I appreciate it. Can we go in the morning? I have plans in the afternoon,” she admits while climbing in.
Plans. What plans? Fuck. Is she going out with some guy?I try to ignore the rage coursing through me, but I don’t think I’m successful.
After climbing into the car and stewing in silence for a few minutes, she speaks.“I’m so sorry. It was rude of me to assume you would, Atlas. I can probably get one of the girls to take me.”
This is what happens. It’s not her fault, but mine. The idea of her being with someone else just sets me off. She doesn’t deserve my shortness.
Trying to reassure her, I bite out in what I hope is a friendly voice, “No. It’s fine. No big deal. That’s whatfriendsdo for each other, right? And we’refriends, aren’t we, Cora?” I know full well my words are bullshit.
We’re more than that.
