Lenny shoots me a look. “I’m in if Alex is.” For a moment, I think he smirks at me. I look away though. “It’d be good to… catch up,” he adds politely enough, but I hear the interest in his voice. I’m not touching that with a ten foot pole.
“Can’t. I have a thing. Totally forgot.”
I shrug as I get up, over this shit.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going, Alex?” my father asks, looking up at me with disdain, his fork half-way to his mouth. I ignore him.
He doesn’t follow me, and I don’t expect him to.
I get in my car, not sure where I’m going until I find myself parked in the rink’s parking lot.
I limp my way out of the car and slowly head inside to sit in the stands and watch a few kids circle the ice.A couple young girls do triple axles; a couple boys skate backwards, probably trying to impress them. The chill of the air makes me feel at home. My arms are cold but I don’t bother warming them. I need to feel the chill. My phone rings and I see it’s my mother. I don’t feel like talking to anyone, so I silence the call. I don’t have the capacity to deal with her prying about my date or yelling at me about making a scene at the club.
My phone rings again, “Daddy Issues” playing loud enough it echoes in the space. I silence that too.
Why the hell does Austen have to be in New York with Savannah?
At least if he were here, my dad would pay less attention to me.
I stay at the rink for a while, just breathing in the icy air and getting lost in watching the people who can skate, remembering how it feels.
My mind quiets and I think about the game. It’s the only place I can really focus.
Hockey is simple. There are rules to follow. If I break them, I’m punished. Sometimes it’s worth it, though, and my team and the fans understand that. Every time I step on the ice, I know who I am. I know what my goal is.
But my life… I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.
It’s nearing seven when the rink closes, and I’m not ready to go home. So I head to Bella’s to watch tonight’sRioters game and grab some nachos and a beer, so I can wallow on a full stomach.
The bar is packed, and the crowd makes me feel a little better. I manage to find a seat at the bar and order my food and drink. There’s a sort of peacefulness in the chaos of a sports bar. A room full of strangers all vying together for one thing: victory. It’s a closeness I can’t explain. Even though I don’t know them, we get one another because we all want the same thing.
I’m three beers and a full plate of nachos in when Mack walks through the doors. He stops, his gaze catching mine. I give him a smile, raising my glass.
“Mackenzie!” I shout over the room. “Long time no see, motherfucker.”
His gaze hardens and he shakes his head, walking to the other side of the bar.
I frown.
What the fuck did I do now?
“Whatever,” I mutter as the guy next to me pulls my attention. I’ve never had trouble making friends. I can walk into any room and make myself the center of attention.
I love it and I fucking hate it, because until Jordan walked through those doors, I was fine. I was fine drinking and laughing and yelling with strangers, my ego eating it up. But with him here, I don’t want their attention anymore.
All I want is his.
I want him to look at me, to pull up a seat next to me and just be near me.
He sits on the other side of the bar, ignoring me.
When the bartender comes back, asking for my order, I lean close to her.
“You see Hulk in the red flannel over there?”
The bitchy bartender licks her lips. “Uh huh.”
“Whatever he wants, put it on my tab.” She steps away, rolling her eyes, but I stop her. “Make sure you tell him it’s me. Be obvious about it.”
