I’m crushing so hard on him, and it’s exhilarating.
Yet terrifying.
Because I am also falling a little bit in love with him, too.
When the game begins and I finally see Aiden on the ice, I get butterflies. He looks so sexy in his black uniform, so big and imposing and physical with the way he plays defense. Aiden skates backward, quickly turning with the change in possession, and fights the Orlando player against the boards to get possession of the puck, sending it back up the ice.
“Yes, Aiden!” I call out, as if he can hear me.
Then I frown. I wonder what he would think if he heard my conversation with Jamie.
I didn’t reveal him, but Jamieknows.
Will Aiden be upset I didn’t conceal it? Will he be pissed?
I’ll have to talk to him about it tomorrow, when he’s home.
And all I can do is hope that Aiden isn’t upset that I didn’t hide our relationship like I should have.
Chapter Twelve
I reach for my phone on the nightstand as the alarm jolts me awake. I had stayed up last night, unable to sleep, and the last time I looked at the clock, it was after three in the morning.
It’s six-thirty, and I feelsotired.
But that’s what staying up late thinking about Aiden did to my brain. I couldn’t shut the thoughts of him off. We texted briefly as he was getting on the plane after the game, but then he said he would talk to me tomorrow. Today, I mean. Meanwhile, I stayed awake, listening to Matcha and Mochi run around in their condo, thinking of how Aiden might respond to the fact that I told Jamie about us.
Will he be pissed?
Worried?
Both?
Neither?
It’s probably not good that I’ve compiled a list of responses for Aiden.
I bite my lip. I just hope he can forgive me for not keeping our relationship a secret.
I shove that thought aside and force myself to throw back the duvet. Otherwise, I might fall back asleep. Granted, I don’t have to be at Real Miami until later because of the offseason, but I still like to get to work at a decent hour. I’m still considered newthere, and I want to show them I have a good work ethic, even in the offseason.
I use the bathroom, brush my teeth, and put on some workout clothing. My apartment building has a great gym, with treadmills that overlook the luxurious swimming pool, and I have no excuse to skip my workout this morning.
Hopefully, it will help me run off some of this anxiety in my system.
I open my drawer in the bathroom and retrieve an elastic band. I work my hair into a high ponytail on my head, yawn one more time for good measure, and then grab my key card and slip it into the pocket on my workout pants. After I fill my water bottle, pop in my earbuds, and grab my phone, I’m ready to hit the gym.
I make my way to the spacious, well-equipped facility—the sun is coming in through the windows, and quite a few people are working out already. I look around. There’s a girl my age on a treadmill, her brunette ponytail swishing back and forth as she runs.
I bite my lower lip. It’s November. I’ve been in Miami for months, and outside of Aiden, I have yet to make any friends. Do I have work friends at Real Miami who I can go to lunch or grab a happy-hour drink with? Sure. But do I have friends where I can spend hours talking to them, lingering over long-empty glasses? Friends who I can get a manicure with or go shopping with? Friends who can make me laugh until my sides hurt, friends who I can bounce complicated situations off of, friends who I can cry with?
No.
I was brave with Aiden. That resulted in me finding not only a friend, but an incredible boyfriend. Maybe it’s time to be brave with women, too. Put out into the universe what I want. Or whatever that saying is.
There are available treadmills on each side of the girl running. I’ll take one of those, smile, and say hello. We at least have running and working out in common. Maybe when she’s finished, I can ask her some questions to initiate a conversation.
Nervousness begins to grow in the pit of my stomach. Why is this harder than talking to Aiden? What is it about trying to make female friendships that is so hard for me?
