With a smirk, he lifts a microphone to his lips and murmurs, “Blakely Thorne. Do you mind coming down here for a minute?”
50
BLAKELY
A rush flows through the arena as the crowd searches for the elusive Blakely Thorne.
“Oh my gosh. Is he going to propose?” a lady asks from a few rows behind me.
With a glare, I look back at her and snap, “He’s not going to propose.”
Or at least he better not.
Mom touches my back and pushes me gently toward the stairs. “Go on, Blake.”
With wide eyes, I turn back to her. “Mom––”
“Go.”
This can’t be happening.
Like for real.
This. Can’t. Be. Happening.
I fist my shaking hands at my sides and walk down the steps, careful not to fall flat on my face as everyone watches me. Some people cheer while others stare curiously, and it takes everything inside of me not to tumble down the steps.
When I reach the bottom, Colt’s already there with one hand outstretched. He helps me onto the ice, skating slowly so I can keep up with him in my Nikes as we make our way toward Theo in the neutral zone.
The crowd hoots and hollers as Theo strides closer. When he reaches me, Colt lets me go with a warm smile and takes Theo’s microphone. Apparently, Theo doesn’t need it anymore.
Yeah. Colt most definitely helped set this up, but I can’t decide whether to smack him or hug him for it.
Probably both, I decide. But I’ll deal with him later.
Besides, I’m a little preoccupied by the bastard in front of me.
Ignoring the ever-excited crowd surrounding us, I tell Theo, “Ya know, when I said we’d talk later, I didn’t exactly mean in front of an audience after a week of you giving me the cold shoulder.”
“I wasn’t giving you the cold shoulder.”
I glare back at him. “I mean…”
“I asked for your patience, remember?” Theo offers me his hand. “I needed some time to set a few things up. Come here.”
I look around the chaos surrounding us, but stay still. “This is what you were setting up? It’s insane!”
“Figured you deserved a grand gesture after the shit I pulled.” Theo reaches for me again, balancing the bouquet with his opposite hand. “Come here, Blake. Please?”
Grudgingly, I grab Theo’s hand as the crowd goes wild around us. His fingers are warm despite the chilly atmosphere on the ice, and he brings my knuckles to his lips, kissing them softly. And I hate how I can feel it everywhere. The brush of his lips. The memories they evoke. It’s…consuming.
“Thanks for coming,” he murmurs.
“Like I had a choice. You thought of everything, didn’t you?”
His mouth lifts. “Maybe.”
Scanning his sexy outfit, I ask, “Why are you in a suit?”
“‘Cause I should’ve asked you to prom.”
I snort. “And you thought today was the day to make up for it?”
“I have a lot of ground to make up for. Might as well start with my fuck ups in high school.”
“If we’re gonna play that game, you should probably start in elementary when you stole the last can of Crush.”
He smirks and shuffles closer. “I thought I already atoned for that one by buying you a two-liter with my allowance.”
The man has a point.
“Well, you could’ve at least told me to dress up,” I argue, fighting off the urge to tug at his lapel and drag him closer. “I’m in jeans and a hoodie, for Pete’s sake, and my face looks like I could’ve starred in Carrie.” I motion to the black and red face paint.
His chuckle is warm and so are his calloused fingers as they tickle my skin, brushing my hair behind my ear. “You look beautiful, Blake.”
“I look like I’m ready to watch a hockey game. Unlike you,” I note. “How’d you get changed so fast?”
“That’s what you want to know?” He laughs again, a little harder this time.
To be fair, I want to know a lot of things. Like why he went through all this work setting everything up for me. I want to know if he honestly thinks we can find a way to make this work. I want to know if he still loves me as much as I love him, and if he’s going to finally learn how to communicate with me instead of keeping me in the dark.
And those questions are only the tip of the iceberg.
Yeah. I have a lot of questions.
“Actually, yes. Let’s start with that.” After all, it’s the easiest of my questions. “How’d you get changed so fast?”
“I’m a guy,” he answers. “I always get ready quickly. It helped that it took a few minutes to get the kids in place, so they gave me some time.”
“Oh.”
“I also planned a little speech and convinced the audio guys to play a few songs for us. Not to mention the Big Red.” He leans closer and smiles, letting my cinnamon breath fan across his cheeks. “Smells good, by the way.”
I ignore the compliment and blow out a big bubble with the gum. He pulls away, lets out a chuckle––which shoots straight to my core––and waits for it to pop.
Once it does, he grabs my waist and tugs me closer to him. “Dance with me?”
“And where would we put the roses?” I challenge.
They land with a soft woosh next to our feet as he pulls me against him again. I bite my lip to keep from grinning and roll my eyes, ignoring our audience in the arena and how adorable the kids are as they cheer their little hearts out.
“How’d you convince the kids to act interested in my love life?” I ask. “Some of them were even bored while watching the game. It’s not like this can be any more interesting to them.”
“Colt promised I’d pay them all a quarter for every time you roll your eyes––or laugh––and a dollar if you let me kiss you.”
“You’re joking.”
Theo chuckles. “Not in the slightest.”
“He offered up your money?”
“Yeah. I told Colt to figure out how to keep them engaged so they don’t get bored on the ice. Bribing them was his solution.”
“To be fair, it’s a solid strategy,” I note.
“You’re not wrong. They’re also some of your favorite people. I needed to make sure they were here when I won you over.”
I snort, my amusement shifting to something heavier. “Isn’t that the problem, though? You always win me over, and I always cave to whatever you want.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” he teases, but there’s still hesitancy in his gaze. Like he knows he’s on thin ice. Like he knows he screwed up. Like he knows he hurt me.
“Not if you learn from your mistakes,” I murmur. “But I need to know you’re willing to cave for me too. To compromise. To look at situations from both perspectives before you just do whatever’s best for you without considering how it affects me.” I bite my tongue, my humor dissipating. “Blah. I'll stop. I know we’ve already talked about this, I just…”
“I know, Blake,” he rasps. “Actions speak louder than words, right?”