CHAPTERSIXTEEN
Ashley
Go, go, go. I sit on the edge of my seat, hands fisted under my knees as I track Jared’s progress on the ice. He evades one defender, but when he crosses the blue line, he flips the puck to his teammate, Arch, whose shot hits the goalpost.
Damn.
I relax back into my seat, trying to quell the butterflies.
The first game of the season sets the tone for the rest of the year. It’s a big deal. And I want Jared to do well so much it hurts.
“You look hot.” Emerson smiles at me as we sit side by side in Declan’s box.
“Thanks.” I glance down at my black mini skirt and matching leggings paired with a silk turquoise top. My combat boots complete the look. Oh, and I’m wearing make-up. Like actual makeup of mascara, blush, the works.
I never make a lot of effort on my appearance. A swipe of eyeliner and a dab of lip gloss at most, maybe a quick pony, and I’m ready to go. But I spent way too much time getting ready for the game tonight. I even video-called Winter and Peyton for outfit advice, and they correctly reminded me that this isn’t like one of those games where Jared’s team comes to New Orleans and I haven’t seen him in months.
“You live together now,” Peyton said before she and Winter burst into laughter.
I laughed along with them, but inside, I was wishing I could feel as lighthearted about the wholeroommatesthing as I sounded.
As the first period winds down with no score by either team, I focus my gaze on number twenty-one for the home team with the surname Storm across the back. Jared skates effortlessly to the bench, and I resist the urge I have to call out to him in support.
He would think it was weird because I never do that, not that he would hear me anyway. I purse my lips and turn to smile at my suitemates. I’m sitting between Haley and Emerson, and Mia and Jamie Beth are on Haley’s other side. Mia and Jamie Beth are chatting with Declan and a couple of the other owners to Mia’s right.
“It’s surreal to be in a box,” I admit. “I can still remember driving to Baton Rouge with the girls to watch the Storms play in a run-down rink on the bad side of town.”
Emerson laughs. “Times have sure changed since we were all kids.”
“Was it hard when Jared moved away for college and then the pros?” Haley asks me.
“I was happy for him,” I deflect rather than answer her actual question.
“Would you see him when he came home to Louisiana over the years?” she asks.
“Usually.”
That sounds far too casual.
Because the reality is that Jared would call me each time he was coming to town. Winter and Peyton didn’t even know. I knew they’d ask well-meaning curious questions, and I had no answers for them. Jared and I were friends. Just friends. As much as that burns to admit. And we were both at fault for the way we ignored any sparks. I was as stubborn as he was, and I dated just as casually if I’m being honest. I may not have had the wide range of dating options that a high-profile athlete did, but I certainly didn’t lack for dates.
But whenever Jared was in town, we would meet up after games. Sometimes he would stay the night. If that was the case, maybe we’d hang out for a bit. Then I’d bounce. I didn’t want to watch Jared party. And I didn’t want to be a part of his world, the world where all the girls throw themselves at him.
But he’d always text me later that night.
I’d be driving home or climbing into bed, or sitting on my couch with a cup of tea.
“You’re blushing.”
I come out of my memories to find Emerson smiling at me.
“I got lost in the past.”
“Seems like a good kind of lost,” Haley says.
It was the good kind. The best.
“Ash.” He always said my name in a low tone, conspiratorially, like he and I were the only ones who knew what we had.
