Chapter 27
Ellie
By the time I lock the theatre doors behind me, my voice is shot and my patience is hanging by a thread.
Fundraiser announcement: done.
Hockey team collaboration explanation: done.
Fielding questions that ranged from‘Do we have to?’to‘Is this thing mandatory?’: also done.
One of my students even called the hockey guys sweaty neanderthals with sticks.
This is going to be the longest three weeks of my life; I can already tell.
I drag my bag higher on my shoulder and head across campus. I am in desperate need for coffee right now. The late afternoon sun casts long shadows over the quad. Around me, students laughwith their friends, professors walk to their respective buildings, and no one seems as stressed out as I feel right now.
I hate that I’m thinking about how it went for Jamie. I hate that I care. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to stop. Whether I like it or not, our worlds are officially coming together, and it doesn’t appear that I can stop the inevitable crash.
As I sit in the café, I sip on my hot latte and stare aimlessly out the window. My thoughts are scattered. The play, the fundraiser, Jamie. One thing in particular stands out from the rest of my jumbled thoughts. Why did Jamie ask who Freddie was? Was he standing by my car the whole time? Why did he seem so pissed off? Could he be… jealous? No, that’s ridiculous. He couldn’t be jealous, because we’re not even together.
Yet he seemed like I had slapped him in the face. I can’t lie, the thought of Jamie Patterson being jealous over me is an attractive one. Little does he know, the man he’s jealous of doesn’t swing for my team.
When I get home, the house is quiet. I’m assuming Jamie’s in his room, thank God. I don’t think I can have a clear conversation with the man right now if he’s still acting the way he was earlier.
I kick off my shoes and drop my bag by the stairs, heading straight for the kitchen. I halt in my tracks when I see Jamie standing there, his muscular arms crossed over his broad chest. His face is serious, his jaw clenched. Okay, so I guess he’s still pissed. So much for grabbing a snack and heading to bed. He’s so quiet, I’m not sure he’ll ever speak. But then he does.
“How was work?” he asks, and I’m taken aback by the question because that’s not what I was expecting him to say. My weight shifts from one leg to the other as I stand awkwardly at the island, too nervous to move.
“It was fine…” I say slowly, watching him carefully.
“Aren’t you going to ask how my day was?” he inches forward slightly. I instinctively take a step back. I’m not afraid of him, but I am feeling a bit intimidated at the moment.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “how was your day?”
He smiles slightly, but it’s not a real smile. It’s more of a dangerous one.
“It wasn’t great, honestly. I couldn’t really concentrate. I was too distracted by the guy you were on the phone with this morning. Freddie, was it?” he lifts an unhinged brow. I want to laugh, however, that doesn’t seem like the smart thing to do right now, so I keep it in.
“Jamie, I—” he cuts me off.
He closes the distance between us in three long strides.“Who is Freddie?”he demands, his eyes narrowing as he studies me for my reaction.
I’m frozen in place. He’s right there, and he looks so serious. My heart skips a beat. Jamie’s never been the jealous type. He was never one to throw a punch off the ice. Yet, right now, he looks like he could punch a wall, and the cold edge in his tone sends a shiver down my spine.
When I finally having my breathing under control, I tell him,“He’s a friend back in New York.Why?” I shrug casually as if his closeness and attitude aren’t affecting me in the slightest.
“And you two just casually have phone calls early in the morning?” he questions in an accusatory tone.
“Sometimes, yes.” I don’t know why I haven’t told him the truth yet. Maybe because it’s kind of hot to see him all worked up and envious. Maybe I like the way his body hovers against mine, or the way he’s now gripping my arms. Not tight, not aggressive, just holding.
I watch his nostrils flare. He clearly didn’t like that answer.
“Does your little friend know about us?”
My brows furrow. “Know what about us, exactly?”
He looks offended, as if I’ve just told him that he smells like dog shit. He doesn’t of course.
