“True,” I agree, my heart pounding in my chest. “So, I like them taped tight around the ankle bone, but loose on the top and semi-tight on the bottom. I lose circulation in my toes sometimes.”
He nods. “Both ankles?”
“Yeah. Snapped them in a double layout off bars when I was thirteen.”
“Good God. I took a puck to my ankle and shattered it. I have to wear sleeves on it.”
“I used to do the sleeves, but tape is just better. More hold.”
“Good to know,” he says, and then he starts to tape, “if I ever hit the ice again.”
“Have you not played since retiring?”
He stops and looks up at me. “Must be a hockey fan. Or just rumors?”
He doesn’t remember me. Wow. Okay. “Hockey fan.”
“Nice.”
When he doesn’t answer me, I ask again, “So, you haven’t been playing?”
“Nope,” he says as he makes quick work of the prewrap. “Been focusing on healing.”
“That’s great. Healing will help get you back out there.”
He shrugs as he starts to tape. “I don’t know if I want to get out there.”
“But you love it.”
“I know. But right now, all I see is what I couldn’t conquer.”
“I get that,” I say, nodding even though he’s not looking at me. “I almost walked away from bars when I couldn’t catch a skill called a Ray. I knew I needed it for college and figured if I couldn’t do it, why try? But then my love for the sport made me work even harder.”
He looks up. “What if I don’t love it and just thought I did?”
I nod slowly. “Then that is something you need to recognize and build from.”
He holds my gaze, and I feel like I’m suffocating. I press my lips together and watch as he glances down before quickly moving his eyes back up to mine. He doesn’t say anything, nor does he do anything. We just stare into each other’s eyes as the air around us crackles and pops. When he looks down, I take in a deep breath, sighing loudly as he finishes my other ankle in silence.
“How do you like the gym?” I ask since the silence is driving me nuts.
“It’s a great facility.”
“Is everyone being nice? Coach is rough around the edges.”
He nods, and I enjoy how his brow furrows as he concentrates. His hair brushes against his forehead with every move he makes. His shoulders flex, and Jesus, I’m getting hot watching his man tape me. In my head, someone has cued the porn music.
When he starts to answer me, I’m thankful and disgruntled by his distraction. “Coach is a hoot, reminds me of my brother. And everyone is coming off really thirsty, if you know what I mean.”
“Because they are,” I deadpan, and he laughs. “Sorry, they’re a lot, but we’re a good group of girls.”
“Yeah, I can tell. And I get it. I’m the new, sparkly thing. They’ll get bored of me.”
Good, because I won’t. He pats both of my ankles once he’s done checking them, and then he looks up at me. “How does that feel?”
I flex my toes. “Great.”
“Awesome. Have a good practice,” he says, holding out his hand for mine. I take it, and somehow, we’re doing a handshake I used to do with Nico. He laughs, visibly impressed. “You know that shake?”
I nod. “I do. I do it with my dad-guy.”
“That’s crazy. I learned it from my brother.”
Whom I assume taught it to Nico. Why don’t I say that? “That is crazy.”
He helps me off the table, and I lift up on my toes to make sure the tape is good. “Cool. Okay, so I guess I’ll see ya around.”
“Yeah, see ya. Don’t trip over anything.”
I look back at him. “I won’t. I’m a gymnast, which means I have perfect balance.”
A beautiful grin comes over his face, and I smile back before I head out of his office.
With way more pep in my step than needed.
So much so, I trip on the mat when I go to join my team.
I look back, praying Evan didn’t see that, but I find he is watching me as he twirls a roll of tape on his finger.
And he’s laughing.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
nine
Evan
I think I may be a runner.
I’m not saying I want to run for a team here at the college; I just like to run. What am I thinking? But I enjoy it. I enjoy running around the campus more than back in the neighborhood where my family home is. Though, at home, I don’t get the looks I get here. As I run, a lot of different girls smile and wave. I don’t know any of them, and I’m not stopping to meet them. I’m on a run for a reason, and it’s to get the crazy out.
It’s been a weird week for me. I’m not used to all this attention from females. I’ve spent most of my life in Owen’s shadow, and believe me, I’m not mad about it. He’s such a huge personality, such a big presence, and he knows what he wants. Even on a good day, I have issues, and it’s easy to hide behind Owen. Let all the girls have a go at him. When I was in South Carolina, it was Owen, our teammate Dart, and me. Between the two of them, no one really noticed me, and I was fine with that. I’d rather just sit to the side and be me. I’m not saying I didn’t talk to anyone. I did, but it wasn’t to get them into bed like Owen and Dart did. I was honestly getting to know them. Unfortunately, the females I met only wanted to sleep with me before they got to know me.
If I’m honest, I feel like I’m good enough to sleep with, but not to know. Maybe I need to change my way of thinking? Maybe I’m too old for school, but I don’t feel like I am. I’m basically the same age as everyone else. I don’t want to be on dating sites or going to bars or parties to meet people. I just think, when it’s time, she’ll appear out of the blue, and it’ll be different.
Or maybe this week seems off because I’m overly stimulated by everything. Between the hockey house, the gymnastics team, and trying to figure out if I want to change my major, it’s been a lot. I’m not complaining; I’m excited for all the different opportunities.
But along with everything else, the attention is making me self-conscious. Before, I wouldn’t care who was watching me when I ran, but I’m hyperaware of it now. Even in class, I feel like I can’t relax because I’m being watched. I notice girls talking and asking who I am. I’ve been asked out in person—and through my DMs on Instagram—hourly. The only place I don’t get hit on is in the hockey house, and that’s because I’m the RA.
Of course, when I confide in my brother about my issues, Owen thinks I’m an absolute idiot for not loving all the attention and capitalizing on it. Ah, if only I could be like him. No cares in the world and walking around like a stud. It’s always been like that; it was always Owen and Evan. Never Evan and Owen. I played in his shadow, and I didn’t cause issues. Now, away from him, I don’t know how to handle it all.
I run a little harder, unhappy with where my mind is wandering. I wish I didn’t do this to myself, just completely tear myself down when I’m doing my best. Is it Owen’s best? Fuck no. But it’s my best, and I shouldn’t be feeling sorry for myself. I should be proud. I’m out here, and I’m living, instead of hiding and wishing it all would go away.