Starting with creating an online presence for my hockey photography.
My thoughts shift again. I took pictures of both Aiden and Ethan during warm-ups, and the dynamic was not lost on me. My brother and my boyfriend are about to face off against each other on the ice. Which wouldn’t be a big deal except for the fact that EthanhatesAiden.
My stomach grows queasy. This only has a thousand and one ways it can go wrong. All I can do is hope that Ethan will control himself and not give in to any ideas of starting something with Aiden.
“Scarlett!”
I turn around and see Georgie approaching me. I smile brightly at her. She’s wearing a bedazzled, fitted Miami Manatees T-shirt with “Bailey” and “92” in sparkles.
I can’t wait until I can wear Aiden’s name and number in public.
Then my stomach twists. I just have to find a way to make sure I get to wear a Manatees shirt when I am finally able to support him. Because if Dad has his way once he knows this? Aiden will be traded to another team as soon as the general manager can get a deal done.
The sickness in my stomach grows stronger. I push down the bile rising in my throat and force myself to shove the idea of what Dad might do aside and focus on Georgie.
“I was hoping I’d run into you,” she says, smiling brightly. Her expression goes serious for a moment. “First, how’s your head?”
GAH. I have a lovely purple bruise on my forehead, although I was pretty impressed with the makeup camouflage job I did before heading out tonight.
“Ugly, but feels fine,” I assure her.
Georgie studies me with a thoughtful expression on her face. “You really can’t see much of anything.”
“It’s the magic of body makeup,” I say breezily. Which I ran out and bought the very next day after the accident.
“I was wondering if you have room in your schedule to take some pictures of my jars next week. I know you said I could text you about it, but I thought I would just ask you the next time I bumped into you at a game.”
My sickness is momentarily replaced by excitement that bubbles up within me. This is an opportunity to spend time with Georgie. Get to know her better.
To see if we can become friends.
For a split second, I freeze when I think of that possibility. Georgie can’t know about Aiden yet. I can’t put that kind of secret on her to keep, or potentially drag Beckham into it, too. I don’t like the idea of lying to her. In fact, I hate it. But I refuse to put Georgie in an awkward situation, so I’ll either have to throw her off or lie about some things to keep her out of it.
Ugh, that makes me sick, too.
But if we do become friends, I’ll tell her everything as soon as Aiden and I have told my parents.
And that thought eases my conscience a bit.
“What about next Monday? I can take a day off from work to do it,” I ask.
Georgie immediately puts out her hand. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t want you to take time off work for me!”
“Georgie. I have personal days I can’t roll over. You’re giving me a good reason to use a day and do something for myself.”
“But don’t you want to use your day off to get a manicure or facial or spend the day at the beach?”
“Nope,” I insist. I reach into my clear bag for my phone. “If Monday morning works, I’ll put you down. Oh! Would it bepossible for you to come over to my place? I have all my lighting stuff there.”
“Yes, of course. I travel with my jars all the time at this time of year doing shows, so I’ll just bring some of my show samples. What time?”
“Ten-thirty?”
“That works.”
Next week the Manatees are on the road, and doing a project like this will help distract me from fixating on the fact that Aiden will be gone for a week—one of the longest road trips of the season.
“Great. I’m going to text you my address,” I say, pulling up her contact info and texting her my location. I hear a ding, and she retrieves her phone, unlocks it, and nods.
