Chapter Seven
Rowan
Idon’t know what I was thinking when I agreed to bungee jump with a girl I barely know. Let alone the actual act of jumping off a bridge and plunging toward icy water below.
I’m a fucking idiot because as soon as that mental image hit, I knew I had to find a way out of it. There is no way in hell I would physically be able to follow through with something like that. It’s too eerily similar to my near-death experience. I feel so stupid for not realizing that little tidbit before agreeing to do it.
I tossed and turned for two nights straight, nightmares of the car accident and pulling Lily’s limp body out of that damn water were all I could see as soon as I closed my eyes. I knew I had to find a way to tell Millie I couldn’t do it, but I also didn’t want to disappoint her for some weird reason that I’ve yet to figure out.
It’s not like I owe her anything, or that we are even good friends. Sure, I like her and all. She’s funny and sweet, pretty too, but I’m not in the right headspace to think of her as anything more than a friend, especially not one that is counting on me to help her fulfill a bucket list.
When I went to the house build yesterday, I was fully prepared to tell her that I was sorry but I couldn’t help her with her list, but those words died on my tongue the moment her light brown eyes landed on me.
No matter how hard I tried to push those five little words out of my mouth, they refused to fucking budge. It should have been easy to say,sorry, I can’t help you. But nope, the next thing I know I’m volunteering for another bucket list item. Then I’m peering over her shoulder trying to sneak a peek of what else is on her list because at this point I feel invested, and oddly curious about this list of hers.
At first, I thought she was just like any other kid our age, wanting to experience life to the fullest, but the more I get to know her, the more it seems there’s something else going on here. I don’t know what it is, but I find myself wanting to help her, even though one thing on her list absolutely terrifies me.
I’ve put it off for now, but after sneaking a look at her list, I know that she’s got them listed out in order of importance. Bungee jumping is in the top ten. I guess I’ll have to cross that bridge when we get to it.
When she said she wanted to learn how to ice skate, I was more relieved than I wanted to admit. I have a sinkingsuspicionthat she blurted that one out just for my benefit.
No matter how nonchalant I tried to seem when I told her I thought we should start off with something easier, inside I was freaking the fuck out. And when her eyes narrowed on me, I was sure she could see my pulse pounding in my veins, my hearttrying to beat out of my damn chest, but to my surprise, she didn’t call me out or ask any questions.
The amount of appreciation and relief I had at that moment would have had me agreeing to do just about anything with her. She wanted to sword fight? I would have saidyou bring the swords. Cave diving?Tell me when. Skydiving?Bring it on. Anything but bungee jumping off a damn bridge.
Ice skating only piqued my curiosity about how much else she hasn’t experienced because if she had never been to a hockey game, that was number one on my list of things I wanted to do with her. Millie St. James is an enigma. She’s sweet but sassy. Too smart for me but easy to talk to. Kind and soft but hard in a way that I’ve yet to figure out.She intrigues me.
I look down at my phone when I feel it buzz in my hand. The text is from a buddy of mine who plays for the Polar Bears, who just so happens to be playing tonight at their home arena that’s forty-five minutes from here.
Ryan: You’re all set.
Me:Thanks dude. What’s the damage?
Ryan:It’s not so bad. I have to clean the locker rooms after the next four games.
I wince because that is totally going to suck. Locker rooms after games are usually trashed—stinky underwear, socks, and gear, along with some other questionable items that usually follow a celebration like winning the game.
Me:Appreciate you. Let me know if you need help with the cleanup. I can probably swing one or two of them.
Ryan:Naw, we’re good. I still owe you.
He thinks he owes me from that time last year when I helped him with his sister. She dated this guy that turned out to be a real fucking prick. The dude was a player on an opposing team we happened to be playing the night he fucked her up.
Ryan called and asked me to take care of it, and that’s exactly what I did. I had never been ejected from a game until that night, and I don’t fucking regret any of it. The only thing I regret was the fact that the dude was able to stand on his own two feet to skate off the ice and to the med team.
Me:You don’t owe me anything. I owe you for doing this at the last minute.
I would have done that shit for his sister just on principle. That dude got exactly what he deserved. I just wish I could have done more.
Ryan:We can agree to disagree. Enjoy your night with your girl. I made sure to get you front-row seats. Just pick the tickets up at will call.
My stomach pitches at the idea of Millie beingmy girl. A feeling that isn’t entirely uncomfortable but one that definitely catches me off guard. I don’t bother correcting him when I text him another thanks. I mean, it’s kind of weird as shit that I’m doing all this for a girl that isn’t my girlfriend, so I understand where the assumption comes from.
Shit’s a little complicated, but I won’t lie and say I’m not enjoying the distractions she provides every time I’m around her. I find myself looking forward to seeing her on the weekends and whenever I have a spare evening, which isn’t as often as I would like.
I had tobribeMrs. Chambers into pairing me with her when she could, which involved a lot of donuts and sweet-talking. She caved on one condition: that if she heard one complaint out of Millie, she would pull her from the building sites indefinitely. That kind of threat is enough to keep me on my best behavior. Though I have no intention of breaking either of the ladies’ trust.
Me:Pick you up at six?
