Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
“It’s good to have people in your life outside of this world, though. It gives you perspective and helps keep you grounded.”
“I know. And I have a few friends in my classes who are cool about everything, but we have a lot of group projects this year, and when everyone talks about their weekend plans, it’s what club they’re going to, or a party at someone’s house, and I’m over here flying on a whim out to Vancouver with my friends for a game. It’s not relatable.”
At the beginning of the semester, I made the mistake of talking about the club we’d gone to for the new year. It’s an exclusive place, and the tickets were expensive. That’s all it took to change the way people see me.
“What about that guy your dad mentioned? James or something? He’s interested in you, isn’t he?” Hollis’s eyes are on his fingers, which tap agitatedly against the edge of the hot tub.
I don’t want to talk about Jameson. Not with Hollis. “All university guys want to do is hit the club, go to parties, or Netflix and chill. And when I say Netflix and chill, I don’t actually mean watching a show and chilling.”
Hollis narrows his eyes. “I know.”
“So you can see why I’m not jumping at the chance to date university guys.”
“It’d be better than my spare bedroom, don’t you think?” Hollis clamps his mouth shut, like he didn’t mean to say that. It almost makes me laugh.
I’ve done exactly as he’s asked. I change the sheets, and I wash and put away the used set before he comes home from away games. I leave no evidence behind.
“At least I know what I like and I can always get where I need to go.”
Twenty-year-old boy-men have such fragile egos. They’re not used to being directed, or guided, or a woman who asks for exactly what she needs. They watch too much porn and don’t read enough romance.
He shifts, like he’s uncomfortable. He brought it up though.
I change the subject and let him off the hook. “You’ve been playing clean, but I know you’re working hard off the ice to make it that way.”
His shoulders relax a little. “I know the importance of keeping my knee in good condition after that surgery. I’ve still got a year left on my contract, and I’m hoping for an extension.”
This is the kind of conversation I’m used to. We’ve always talked about personal goals and career expectations. “You put in the work last summer.”
“Thanks to you always dragging me down here to do laps.”
I hated seeing him so down after his knee surgery, so I made it my mission to help as much as possible. “All my annoying you was effective. You’re having an amazing season.”
“You never annoyed me. You were the kick in the ass I needed.” He smiles wryly, probably remembering how I’d steal his TV remote and refuse to give it back unless he got off his ass and joined me in the pool. Everything was different then. My secret crush was still a secret, and I wasn’t hiding things from my dad.
“Well, you’ve had an incredible comeback. You keep playing like you are, and they’ll definitely extend.”
He nods. “That’s the goal. I just need to make sure I don’t re-injure.”
“You follow all the rules, do all the work and then some. And even when you’re ready to hang up your skates, you’re more than a pretty face who’s amazing on the ice, Hollis. Whatever direction you decide to go, you’ll always have options.”
He smiles a real, genuine smile, and it makes him so beautiful my heart can hardly handle it. “Always looking on the bright side.”
“Can’t go through life hiding from the rain clouds.” I prop my cheek on my knuckles. “But I also understand the worry about what life could look like with a second serious injury.”
He nods. “I’m not twenty anymore. Things don’t heal the way they once did,” he replies.
“You’re only thirty-three, though.”
“Says the twenty-year-old university student,” he notes pointedly.
I sigh. I knew eventually we’d circle back to this. “I’ve watched rookies turn into star players. I’ve seen careers rise and fall. I get that I can’t understand exactly, but I can empathize in a way a lot of other people can’t.” I feel like I’m trying to pitch myself to him, which is stupid, but still I add, “I’m not a little girl anymore, Hollis.”
His eyes move over my face. “I’m well aware.”
I don’t want to be told, yet again, why I can’t have what I want. I start to stand, but Hollis’s fingers close around my wrist.
“Tell me something real and true.” His voice is deep, gritty. Like this is a struggle for him, too. Like he hurts the same way I do. We used to play this game last year, but it feels different now.