“They might have the right idea.” Her words land somewhere between tempting and challenging.
“You flirtin’ with me, Laney?” I nod my chin, flashing her the cocky smirk I know drives people crazy.
“I mean, it’s been a whole five minutes and you haven’t made your move yet.” She presses off the wall she was leaning on; her chocolate brown hair hanging down to the middle of her back and her eyes of the same color look at me with a dare in them.
“I don’t throw myself at youallthe time, do I?”
“No.” She places one hand on my bicep, but it's where her lower body is pressing against my waist that my attention falls. “Only when you see me,” she whispers.
“You never flirt back,” I remind her, keeping one hand firmly on my beer and the other behind my back.
“I never wanted to be just a notch on your belt.” She leans in further, gripping the back of my neck, guiding my face down toward hers.
“And now?” I whisper against her lips.
She wets her bottom lip, licking mine in the process. “Now, I just want you bad enough that I’m either going to change your mind about relationships, or I’m willing to get hurt in the process.”
I don’t have time to sort out everything I hate about what she just said before her mouth is on mine. Her lips are soft, but there's a firmness there that leaves no doubt she wants this. Her hips press into mine while one hand rests on my chest for balance as she pushes onto her toes to close the gap.
If I was the kind of guy who made bucket lists, kissing Laney Evans would have been somewhere near the top of it. Her hands wander across my chest and neck while her tongue presses against my lips, silently asking for permission. She’s doing all the right things, and I know if I wanted to, I could take this all the way. But for reasons I can’t make sense of, I don’t. She pulls back, tucking her lips between her teeth, but it does nothing to hide her smile.
I should explain to her that something’s off with me tonight. That I must be coming down with something to even be entertaining the idea of saying no to her. But I don’t get the chance.
Nathan rounds the corner, coming to an abrupt stop and pockets his hands with a shit-eating grin. “Oops. Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt.”
Laney glances at him before flicking her eyes back to me, and my jaw feathers.
“Find me later, if you want,” she half-whispers the words and then she’s gone.
Nathan isn’t shy about watching her walk, then he turns back to me, nodding his head approvingly. “Laney frickin’Evans, Hall? God damn, you are the luckiest guy on campus.” He raises his hand but I leave him hanging.
“It’s not like that.”
Images of Chloe’s face flicker through my head and something sinks in my gut when I think about her at home crying over this loser right now, when less than twenty minutes ago he had a different chick on his lap. The rage I was carrying when I first saw him had simmered momentarily, but face to face with him now, it’s back in full force.
“Sure.” He nods his head, making a face like he doesn’t believe me.
“I’m serious.” I tilt my head back, taking a pull of my beer, letting the cool liquid slide down, giving me one last moment to try and talk myself out of saying the dumbest thing I can think to say. But it doesn’t work. “I’m seeing someone else.”
7
chloe
The chillof the rink hits me before the smell, and it feels comforting in only the way that coming back to your childhood home can feel. It’s been years since I was the one lacing up my skates. Back when Coach Alvarez wasn’t known for being a championship winner or the guy to coach the most players into the NHL. Back then, he was just Mr. A, or as I’ve always called him—Sav’s dad.
“Hey, just because I’m working and can’t drink doesn’t mean you can’t. Want me to grab you a beer?” Savannah wiggles an eyebrow—a new trait of hers I think she’s picked up from her boyfriend.
“I’m good.” I raise both hands, following behind her as she carries one camera in her hand and another strapped over her shoulders.
The Redline Arena is at full capacity for tonight's opening home game. It’s been over ten years since I last went to a hockey game. My parents took Savannah and I to see the Detroit Saints play Toronto for my eleventh birthday. I filled up an entire disposable camera from seats miles above the ice and didn’t even complain when the photos all came backlooking the exact same—blurry and too far away to see anything.
Tonight, though, we’re sitting on the glass.
The energy in this place is exactly what I imagined it would be based on how the entire town of Linden Creek acts when these guys are out in public.
I’m not tracking anyone in particular—I barely register the time passing, caught up in bodies crashing, and the roar of the crowd that follows every play—yet time and time again, number sixteen is the one who's always there in front of me.
Eventually, the buzzer sounds, and music begins blaring, signaling the second intermission. The Lions are up by two going into the final period during their first game of the season.
