I ask more out of morbid curiosity than seeking helpful advice, and the second she goes to answer—practically beaming as she speaks—I wish I would’ve kept my damn mouth shut. And that’sbeforeI hear the words that leave her mouth.
“Honestly? The love I feel for Wyatt wound up being stronger than the hatred and resentment for baseball.”
My stomach churns, and I force my expression to remain neutral, especially when the heat of Willow’s gaze falls on the side of my face. There’s no chance I’m giving up an inkling of the dejection it causes me to hear about her being in love with another guy. I’m already in too deep for my house of lies to come tumbling down around me.
“Oh! I think Camden’s spotted you,” Lexi exclaims, snapping me from my dissociative state back into reality.
Blinking a couple times, I find her waving in the direction of the rink, only to find Camden waiting there, lifting his gloved hand in a wave back.
Lexi nudges me with her elbow and whispers, “Go down there!”
I’m about to ask why I’d do that before I’m knocked upside the head with some common sense and think better of it.
“Yeah, uh… I’ll be right back.”
Pushing out of my seat, I head down the few steps to where Camden is waiting on the other side of the plexiglass. His sandy hair is already damp with sweat, appearing almost brown, and sticking up haphazardly from pulling his helmet on and off.
He smiles when I reach him, but there’s a bit of confusion in his gaze as I approach.
“Hey, I didn’t think you were coming tonight,” he says, voice slightly muffled through the glass.
I offer the best smile I can manage, but I know it’s gotta look more like a grimace. “I was not-so-subtly reminded that a good boyfriend would be atallyour games, so…here I am.”
Camden’s gaze slices behind me, to where Lexi and Willow are seated, before finding mine again. Sympathy swirls in his blue irises now, clearly coming to a conclusion relatively close to the truth.
“I’m sorry. I know how much you probably hate being here.”
I shrug, feigning indifference. “It’s fine. I know it’s what I signed up for.”
It’s just gonna take a lot of getting used to.
He nods and wets his lips, about to say something when he stops himself. His eyes narrow slightly as he stares at me, only for a disbelieving chuckle to leave him.
“Is that my hoodie?”
I look down at the navy-blue Leighton hoodie I’m wearing, wondering how the hell he could’ve possible known it was his…until I notice the small #91 stitched into the front pocket.
Well, shit.
My lips roll inward, realizing there’s no way I can play this one off, so instead, I offer the truth.
“Ah, yeah. The girls insisted I wear school branded apparel, but I didn’t have anything warm enough. Which made Willow suggest raiding your closet for something,” I explain, self-consciously fiddling with one of the sleeves. “I, uh, would’ve asked, but you were already gone and…um, I can take it off if that’s not—”
“No, no,” he interrupts, saving me from making a fool of myself more than I already have. “You should keep it. For the other games, I mean.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. It looks good on you,” he says, a mischievous smirk on his lips. “Maybe next time I’ll get you one of my jerseys to wearover it.”
I scoff and roll my eyes. “Is this some kind of weird jock possessiveness thing?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Camden’s gaze shifts away briefly at the sound of his last name being called, only to return a moment later. “Hey, I gotta get moving, but I’ll see you after the game?”
It comes out more like a question than a statement, so I nod, and he smiles again.
“Great. Thanks for coming, Little Reed.”
“Yeah. Good luck. Get a hat-trick, or whatever,” I say awkwardly, pulling out the only hockey term I know by heart. Unfortunately, it has his smile morphing into a cheeky grin, tugging at the corner of his mouth, and I know I’ve made a mistake.
