Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63335 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 317(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Probably. There were a lot of wings last night and I was in a rush getting out the door to you this morning.” He sets me on my feet, sniffs his sweatshirt, and shudders. “I need something healthy to balance out last night’s bad choices.”
“Did you go somewhere after wings?” I ask. A tiny twinge of unease makes my shoulders tight. I will not be an overbearing girlfriend. I will not let my own insecurities get the best of me.
“Nah, Brody and I came back to the dorms.” He laces our fingers and we head into the cafeteria. “Gage went out, though. I seriously hope he didn’t get super fucked up. We really need him at tonight’s game.”
“What position does he play again?” Tally gave me a crash course in hockey last night. She’s a wealth of knowledge about the sport.
“He’s an enforcer,” Chase explains.
“So defense, right? And you’re a forward?” I ask.
He smiles down at me. “Yeah, left wing.”
“And Brody? What position does he play?”
“He’s right wing, but he’ll probably be a center. He’s strong on the ice and has wicked speed.” Chase loads up a bowl with fresh fruit and yogurt and tops it with granola.
I grab the usual: a blueberry muffin. “How was practice last night?”
We stop at the coffee urns and both fill a cup. “Good. Great, actually. I scored a goal.”
“That’s awesome!” Scoring a goal is hard based on the little hockey I’ve watched.
“Thanks.” He beams.
We use our meal plan cards to pay for breakfast and find a table near the windows.
Chase spears a chunk of pineapple covered in yogurt. “Maybe you want to come to my game tonight?”
I accidentally drop my muffin. Thankfully it lands on my plate.
“Unless you’re busy with that creative writing submission. I know the due date is coming up,” he tacks on, but I don’t miss the disappointment already clouding his eyes.
I should be long finished with my submission, but I’m not, and tonight would be a great time to work on it. It could be another convenient excuse not to go. But Chase is my boyfriend and hockey is his passion. I don’t want to be an unsupportive girlfriend. And I can’t avoid running into his past hookups forever. “I can come to your game tonight.”
His whole face lights up. “Really?”
“Yeah. I’d love to see you play.”
I’m a ball of fucking nervous energy as I enter the arena. Alone. Tally is meeting me here, but she had a group study session that ran late, so she’ll be another twenty minutes. The game starts in ten. The teams are already on the ice, warming up. The arena is filling up with spectators. I don’t want to disappoint Chase by showing up late, but going in there by myself feels a lot like entering the lion’s den while wearing a raw meat suit.
Arwen wouldn’t back down from the catty girls.
I roll my shoulders back, exhale my anxiety, push through the doors, and inhale the sharp bite of rubberized floor mats and the fresh scent of ice. Music blasts through the sound system, echoing off the high ceilings. My breath puffs out in front of me as I scan the arena for unoccupied seats. I spot three several rows back from the ice in the middle, so I head for those.
Chase gave me a pom-pom toque boasting the university’s hockey team to wear. The seats are full of students, and loads of girls are in full makeup, wearing jerseys, team hoodies, toques, and scarves. Apparently, I need to invest in a team hoodie and all the other things if I want to appropriately represent my boyfriend.
I ask the girls at the end of the row if anyone is sitting in the middle. One girl gives me an appraising once-over. “Not that I know of.”
“Cool, thanks.” I mutter excuse me as I shimmy past them, to the three empty seats. I drop into the one in the middle and message Tally to let her know what row I’m in, then survey the ice, looking for Chase.
I spot LOVETT across a set of broad shoulders and the number 19 on the back passing a puck back and forth with STILES as they lap the rink. My stomach flips as they pass me. The buzzer sounds and the team skates to the bench, which is to the right of where I’m seated. A whole bunch of girls wearing team hoodies are congregated in the seats closest to the ice. Two girls are wearing jerseys. I imagine they had to get here pretty early to score those seats. The corresponding players bang their gloves on the plexiglass barrier, giving those girls a chin tip and a wink. They blow kisses.
Maybe those are their girlfriends. I make a mental note to show up earlier. And to learn more of the rules of the game so I know what’s going on.