“Hmm,” Colt grunts, unconvinced. “Are you coming to the game tomorrow?”
“I’m busy.”
“With what?”
Annoyed, I pull up Doodle Jump on my phone and attempt to look occupied as I mutter, “I’m teaching Bridger and the rest of the kids how to play basketball on Saturday. Happy now?”
“What if they came to the game, instead?”
My cell lands with a soft thump in my lap, and I give him my full attention. “Like, the hockey game?”
Colt smiles. “Yeah. This way, you can come to a game, support your big brother, and expose the kids to another sport, which––from what Ash explained to me—is kind of part of the job. It’s a win-win, right?”
Except for the little tidbit about me potentially running into Theo at the game after our little blowup. But hey. Who’s stressing over something like that?
Me. I’m stressing.
So much so, I’ve been avoiding anything and everything to do with hockey, the Taylor House, and even SeaBird.
I shouldn’t.
I know I shouldn’t.
Sure, it’s only been a couple days since I saw him last, but it feels like a lifetime.
I promised I wouldn’t run. And I’m not. But facing him? It doesn’t exactly sound like a picnic, either. Not when it seems like he’s avoiding me too.
Why does this have to be so complicated?
“Come,” Colt pushes, bringing me back to the present. “It’ll be good to clear the air.”
Scooting further into the cushions, I clutch a pillow to my chest and huff out, “I don’t need to clear the air. Theo and I are fine.”
He scoffs but doesn’t call me out for it as Ash walks into the room in a white dress showing off her curves. The girl’s hot with a capital H, and I glance at Colt, catching his jaw almost unhinged as his gaze slides up and down her body.
I shove at his shoulder. “Gross. Get a room.”
But the bastard doesn’t even acknowledge me. He’s too focused on his girlfriend. Standing up, he wipes his hands against his jeans, strides toward her, and pulls her against him, kissing her softly. His fingers play with the ends of her curled blonde hair as he murmurs, “Like your dress, Sunshine.”
She smiles back at him and presses her lips to his. It isn’t lewd or over-the-top.
It’s sweet.
And makes my stupid heart ache.
I tear my gaze from the sight in front of me, picking at my cuticles while cursing that it isn’t enough to distract me from the love emanating from the opposite side of the room.
It isn’t fair.
How cute they are together or how I’ve been given a glimpse of what it feels like to have their kind of love. The kind you can feel from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. The kind of love that’s all-consuming.
I don’t want to give it up.
“Blake,” Colt says.
I clear my throat, force my hands to stop twisting in my lap, and look up at him. “Yeah?”
He pulls out a folded envelope from his back pocket and shows it to me. “Here are the tickets to Saturday’s game. There are forty––”
“Forty?” I gawk. “Dude. That’s way too much.”
“Too late.” He sets the envelope onto the counter next to a box of Lucky Charms. “There are vouchers for ice cream too.”
“Kate said she’ll help with face paint before the game,” Ash adds, hooking her arm through Colt’s.
“You talked to Kate about this?” I ask.
“Yup.” Ash smiles. “We figured it’d be a good distraction for her too.”
Amen to that.
Kate’s been hiding away ever since her seizure, refusing to open up to us or anyone, for that matter. She’s gone into full-blown recluse mode, and it doesn’t matter how many roommate meetings we’ve thrown together in search of a solution. None of us can figure out how to snap her out of it.
“Mia took the day off at SeaBird too,” Ash adds, “so, we’ll all be at the game and can sit together.”
“That actually sounds great,” I grudgingly admit.
“Right?” She kisses Colt on the cheek and drags her hand from his shoulder to his chest, tugging softly on his dark, cotton T-shirt. “Hey. Can you give me and Blake a minute?”
“Sure thing.”
The door closes with a quiet click behind Colt. Then, it’s only me and Ash.
My nose wrinkles, sensing a not-so-subtle shift in the air.
“Want to talk about it yet?” she asks as she moseys toward me on the couch, her heels muffled by the plush carpet.
“We’ve already had this conversation,” I remind her.
And we have. In the car after Colt picked me up at Theo’s. The next morning when I was a lazy lump in my bed and ditched my morning run with Mia. Yeah. We’ve had this conversation lots of times, and it still isn’t my cup of tea.
With a huff, Ash collapses onto the couch next to me and folds her arms. “Look. I know I’m not Mia, and I’m not as good at prying info from my roommates, but seriously. I’m right here, and I’m dating a hockey player just like you. We kind of have a thing or two in common, Blake. You can talk to me.”
I want to laugh at her assumption, but I hold it back. Ash is too sweet to handle my sarcasm, and in this moment, I want to sprinkle it on everything like confetti.
“Talk to me,” she prods, squeezing my knee.
“No offense, but you and Colt are nothing like me and Theo.”
Her eyes widen. “Ouch.”
“I’m just saying… It’s different with me and Theo. That’s all.”
She quirks her brow, unconvinced. “How?”
“Because Colt talks to you. He values your opinion. He asked you to come with him after graduation. Theo doesn’t do any of those things with me. It’s different.”
With a sigh, she tucks her hair behind her ear and asks, “Did you ever think he hesitated in asking you because you’re not graduating this year?”
“So?”
“So, he had a hard enough time convincing you to give him a real chance in the first place. Add another barrier like long-distance, and maybe he’s afraid you’ll run for the hills.”
I pull back, surprised. “I’ve already transferred from one college. It’s not like I can’t do it again.”
“And if he gets traded halfway through his first year? What then?”
“Your point?” I snap.
“My point is that you’re right. You have a good reason to be frustrated. He should’ve talked to you and made his feelings clear as well as his plans. But he’s right too. He has a good reason to be scared you’ll run at the drop of a hat, which, despite your promise to keep fighting for your relationship, is exactly what you’re doing.”
If she’d slapped me, I would’ve been less offended.
With a glare, I argue, “I’m not running.”
“Then, what are you doing?”
“I’m…waiting.”
“For what?” she asks.
It’s an excellent question. I’m waiting for a lot of things. I’m waiting for Theo to show he cares. To prove he cares. To prove he wants this. Wants us. To prove he wants to communicate and grow and fight for our relationship. Is it too much to ask?