I have to roll my lips to stop from laughing. Okay, so he didn’t understand everything the way I meant it.
“Maybe he does.” I squeeze him into my side, planting a kiss on his head.
My eyes take in the best goalie in the league. I’ve made up my mind about him yesterday and despite his apology—which I did accept—I know better than to let my guard down. I know his type. I know all their tricks, yet the man on the screen looks nothing like the image I have in my head.
That type also doesn’t buy five fancy bears and dress them up in different clothes.
He looks tired. And lost. So lost, like the ground he’s standing on was pulled right from underneath him.
It reminds me of the picture I saw this morning in my bathroom mirror when I stared at myself, and I find my bottom lip trapped between my teeth.
It’s silly to think that he’s feeling this off-kilter because of us.Me. After all, being a naïve girl is a part of my DNA, not rich boys.
It’s me, who despite knowing better, couldn’t close her eyes without seeing a set of deep, caramel ones so intense they had me gasping for air in the middle of the night. It’s me, who still felt his presence when he was long gone. It’s me, who stared into the dark night as if he’d show up right there and then, like he did earlier.
Did I want him to show up?
Did I want to see him again?
I close my eyes, letting the voices of commentators and my son’s cheering clear up the haze inside my head that screams to answer, yes.
Yes, I want to see him again. Yes, I want to drown in that mystery that is Severin Minaev. Yes, I want to see if those small glimpses I’ve witnessed are the real man behind the smile. There is something about him…something so familiar yet cold, I can’t push it out of my mind.
I could swear he hated me or something along the lines. For whatever reason, I could feel the resentment and distaste rolling off him at the same time as something else flashed in his eyes. It was almost like a war, a battle that he was having in there.
Yes, I want it all despite knowing how foolish it is. How unrealistic and stupid it is to get those ideas in my head.
I don’t have the time for it. And I was never the girl to get what she wants. That was all Electra. Even in this horrible situation she’s in now, she’s getting things done her way, and it’ll be a battle for anyone who stands in that way. As Exton very well knows already.
Me? I’ve welcomed every crap that sailed past my river, getting caught on every branch in the process, as if I didn’t know how to swim.
No. The answer needs to be no. Because I know better than to dream. Dreams are a synonym for disappointment, and I’ve had more than enough of that in my life.
I’ve lived half a decade without that kind of connection, and I’ll live the next few just as well.
Look at me, sitting over here, having internal battles as if that beautiful, famous hockey player would even want anything to do with me. I’d be surprised if he could tell what my name is the next time we’d bump into each other.
I let out a silent snort, shaking my head at my own ridiculousness, all while something crumbles deep inside me. Something I didn’t allow to take root, yet it popped through the hard, cold concrete walls around my borrowed heart anyway.
11
11 – Swirly lines
Severin
Isendmybaginto the wall as soon as I walk inside my apartment, it slams into something that’s already there, making everything rattle to the floor, but ask me if I give a fuck. Planting my hands on either side of my front door, I lean against it and try to get my breathing under control.
Three games in a row. Three fucking games lost because of me. I don’t remember the last time I played so shit. No, shit is simply not the right word.
Hockey is my life. If I don’t have hockey, what else do I have?
I’ve lost everything else.
The phone vibrates inside my pocket at that precise moment, and when I glance at the caller ID, I huff out a humorless laugh. “Universe, you really do have a sick sense of humor.”
I lift the phone to my ear. “Hi, Mom.”
“Severinchik,” my mom coos in Russian, using my childhood pet name. “When are you coming for dinner? I haven’t seen my son in months.”
