Chapter Twelve
Beck
I tried to play it cool and not look for Lyla—if she didn’t come, it was fine. It’s not like I needed her here to cheer me on. Even back in high school, my parents only made it to a few games. There were always other events going on at the same time, or business trips to prepare for instead. Megan had dragged her friends to almost every one, though, and when it came to trash talking, my little sister had a gift. She also had one of those whistles that took out people’s eardrums. My teammates used to laugh about how they’d never expected so much noise to come from such a little girl.
I smiled at that, thinking Megan would’ve been pissed if she knew they called her a little girl, especially since she’d had crushes on half the team.
“What was last night about?” Jeff asked me as we slowed our pace—we wanted to be warm, not exhausted. “Why’d you tell me to hit on your girlfriend?”
“My girlfriend?” I frowned. “That’d be some messed up shit.”
His eyebrows arched, as if to say, You’re telling me, dude.
Another loud song started, making me have to shout to be heard over the noise.
“She’s just a friend. It was her first big college party, and she was nervous. I thought having you talk to her would make her feel better.”
“She was hanging all over you. I thought you guys were doing some weird… I don’t know. Role-playing thing to spice up your night or some shit.”
Spice up our night? As if I’d need role-playing to keep a girl interested. “She was drunk and wearing heels. She was trying not to fall over, and I was making sure she didn’t.” I fought back another flash of being on the dance floor, when I’d used the excuse of not letting her fall to pull her against me. I gripped my hockey stick harder, focusing on it so I wouldn’t let my thoughts run away with me. “Like I said, we’re just friends.”
“Well, she’s definitely hot,” Jeff yelled. The coach eyed us, and we skated back toward the center of the ice. “So it won’t be weird if I ask her out?”
I clenched my teeth, breathing through my nose to stifle the irritation the suggestion brought on. “Not weird. But she’s my friend, so don’t bother if you’re gonna be an ass to her.” Since I now felt the urge to hit something, I took a practice swing. Without the puck flying through the air, it wasn’t as satisfying as I’d hoped. As I looped around the goal, I replayed the part of last night when I’d carried Lyla to my bedroom. She’d been saying the most random things.
Ooh, you have a cool alarm clock.
Wow, I bet these are, like, super-high-thread-count sheets. They feel like silk on my legs. Which had made me think about her bare legs and how soft her skin had felt when I’d brushed it picking her up.
And then, right as I was drifting off to sleep, she’d leaned over the bed, only her outline visible in the dark. Tell me the truth. Are you secretly a superhero? Because you’re muscly and Mister All American Guy, but then sometimes you get real quiet, and I get the feeling you’ve got a whole secret life no one knows about.
Without the superhero part, she was more right than she knew. Instead of worrying she’d read me too well, though, I took it for what it was. She was wasted.
“Bring it in,” Coach yelled, and when I got to the bench, I spotted Lyla in the crowd.
She grinned and waved. Her fiery red hair hung in loose waves around her shoulders, her makeup was much simpler than it’d been last night, and she had on jeans and her coat. My heart still beat quicker than it should, and a hint of the desire I’d experienced last night rose to the surface, growing stronger the longer I looked at her. The thought of Jeff dating her made jealousy gnaw at my insides, but I couldn’t even think about taking her out myself. No one could be a bigger ass than me when it came to dating.
It reminded me of all the reasons I needed to keep myself in check, regardless of revealing tops, hip bumping, and sexy legs.
I shouldn’t even be thinking about anything but the game right now. I definitely shouldn’t be trying to see which shirt Lyla’s wearing under her jacket, or wondering how to find a good excuse to wrap my arms around her again.
In fact, the more I thought about the dangerous line I was walking, the more I thought that maybe I should call up one of my regular hookups and get some space from Lyla.
…
My teammates barreled into me, slapping my back and whooping and hollering. With that last score, we’d won the game.
In moments like this, I knew I didn’t want to major in business and go on to run D&T. I wanted to play hockey forever. But I also knew that wasn’t in my future, and thinking about it would only mess with my head. I had the right here and now, and that was why I intended to soak it in and enjoy it while I could.
I hated that thoughts like that always took the edge off the buzz of winning.
Excitement and the sense of accomplishment that came along with a victory hung thick in the air of the locker room. I planned on distancing myself from Lyla a bit, but she’d come to the game, so I couldn’t not go say hi. I was trying to keep the friendship, not piss her off or hurt her feelings.
When I made my way over to where I’d seen her sitting, Jeff was already talking to her. Wow. He certainly didn’t waste any time.
She smiled at whatever he said, I heard her say something about being “super drunk,” and then she put her hand on his arm and leaned in, biting her lip the way she’d done with me—er, practiced on me.
Using the moves I’d taught her. On Jeff. I ground my teeth. Lucky prick.
“No, you were cute,” Jeff said.
I set my hockey stick down harder than necessary to break up the love-fest, and Lyla turned, flashing me a dimpled smile.
“Hey, Mister Hotshot Scorer Guy! That was awesome. If I knew that’s what your hockey games were like, I would’ve come to every one of them.”
Her enthusiasm soothed my irritation and made happiness rise up to take its place. The on-the-fly nickname only strengthened it. Nothing was normal with Lyla—she practically spoke her own language. I thought of her there in the stands, cheering for me every game, greeting me like this each time, and a pang of longing went through me. Too bad I was acting like a chick, getting all needy and attached.
“Thanks, Ly.” Time to cut the first string. “By the way, I meant to tell you earlier, but I’m going to have to cancel movie night tomorrow. With all of your stuff this week, I got behind on everything else.”
God, the way her face dropped killed me. I could’ve just said I’d gotten behind. Why’d I have to add in the jab about her stuff? I’m a dick.
Further proof that this was the right move, though.
She fiddled with the zipper of her coat, her eyes carefully avoiding me now. “Of course. Sorry, I’ve totally been monopolizing your time. I’m sure your string of women are ready to come after me with pitchforks.”
The words “It’s not like that” were on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them back, the taste bitter in my throat. At least she knew better than to think of me as a relationship option—that’d be my saving grace with her.
“You know, I’m free for a movie tomorrow night,” Jeff said. “If you’re interested.”
Lyla glanced at him, then me, as if she were waiting for me to say whether or not she should go.
Hell no! Movie nights are our thing! “You two have fun. Just be warned, Jeff, she’ll force you to watch movies about sparkly vampires if you’re not careful.”
“I’ve got sisters, so I’m unfazeable that way.” Jeff nudged her with his elbow.
The smile I had to pull out of my ass probably looked as fake as it felt. “Well, I’ve got one, and I was still unprepared.”
Lyla’s head whipped toward me. “You have a sister?”
I stared at her for a moment, wondering how I’d let that slip—I’d been so focused on how much it annoyed me to watch Jeff flirt with her. Not that Megan was some big secret, but first it’d be talking about my sister, and then that would lead to the confession my parents had died, and it’d only start an avalanche of crap I didn’t want to go into. I couldn’t exactly ignore her question without more questions now, though. “Yeah. She’s sixteen.” I hiked the strap of my duffel bag higher on my shoulder. “I need to hit the road. Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”
I started toward the east exit, but Lyla stayed next to Jeff. “Um, I’m the other way.”
“Me, too,” Jeff said. He put his hand on Lyla’s back. “I’ll walk you out.”
The blood pumping through my veins turned toxic. I was totally losing it. Lyla held up a finger to him, stepped down the bleachers to me, and looped her arms around my neck. “I just wanted to say good job on the game again,” she said. “Thanks for inviting me and taking care of the ticket.”
Unable to help myself, I wrapped an arm around her to hug her back, sliding it under the coat instead of over like I should, noticing that my fingers fit perfectly on the curve of her hip. The desire from earlier grew exponentially with her body against mine, a searing trail chasing away the exhaustion from the game. Calling another girl for a meaningless hookup no longer appealed to me—I didn’t want usual. I wanted smart and funny, big hazel eyes, and sexy curves.
You can never go there, Davenport, so stop thinking about it.
“And…well,” Lyla continued, “I know you already wasted a ton of time on my list this week, but I appreciate it.”
My heart tugged, wanting me to take back what I’d said, while my brain shouted to keep up the wall—to put space between us ASAP.
Shit, shit, shit. I’m seconds from ruining everything.
“No worries,” I said. “I had fun, too. I’ve just got homework to catch up on.”
“I do owe you, so if you need help, you know where to find me.” She started to pull back, then leaned in again and whispered, “How long till Jeff stops being a stranger? Do you think I have to kiss him tonight to cross off number three?”
My hand stilled on her back, and I curled my other one into a fist. “You don’t have to kiss anyone you don’t want to, Lyla. Why don’t you forget the list?”
She frowned, that damned stubborn determination set in her features. “No way. I already made a fool of myself earlier today, but I pushed through and decided to try again instead of letting it stop me, and it actually worked. Do you know how long it’s been since someone asked me out?” She shot Jeff a grin over her shoulder and then lowered her voice and said, “I think I’m just going to kiss him tonight.”
Everything in me screamed to tell her not to. Jealousy reared its head again, and it had big jagged teeth that it wanted to sink into Jeff. But Lyla was on her road to self-discovery, or self-wreckage, or whatever the hell it was, and I wasn’t her boyfriend.
I didn’t want to be her boyfriend.
Anyway, I shouldn’t want to be her boyfriend.
If there was one thing I knew for sure, it was relationships end in disaster, and I wasn’t screwing up someone as sweet as Lyla. I’d warned Jeff to treat her right, and while looking at him right now made me want to punch him, he’d be a decent guy for her to kiss.
I exhaled, careful to keep my voice level as I attempted to muzzle the jealousy. “I think he still counts as a stranger. After you force him to watch chick flicks, he’s for sure an acquaintance.”
A slow smile curved her lips, and it shot me right through the chest. “Thanks, Beck. But just so you know, you’re not getting out of those last two Twilight movies.”
She gave me an attack hug and then bounded over to Jeff.
And all I could do was stand there, hating Jeff a little more by the second and being pissed at myself for canceling this week’s movie night so she couldn’t follow through on her Twilight threat for another eight long days.