Chapter 3
Chapter Three
T he next day I got to school, determined to shake off my unease, even though the few words he had texted seemed engraved into my mind.
What would he have to talk to me about? I couldn’t think of any good reason unless it was from some stupid misguided belief in saving my feelings.
Well, he would see from me blocking him that I had no desire or need to talk to him.
Everyone was settling down after recess when my co-principals Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Macduff hopped into the room.
Mr. Montgomery was tall and Black and Mr. Macduff was short and white, and they both loved teaching and hated being the Principal, so they had compromised on sharing the job, as both men were the best of friends.
“You’re a hockey fan, aren’t you, Josephine?” Mr. Macduff asked eagerly.
For a moment, I couldn’t speak. Then I composed myself.
“Yes, I enjoy hockey.”
“Well, today is your lucky day!” Mr. Montgomery put in, his eyes gleaming behind his glasses. “There’s never been a better day to be a Heat fan!”
“Why?”
My hands moved restlessly to straighten a stack of math work on my desk.
“The team just contacted Elmsweep Elementary, and we are all getting FREE VIP tickets to one of the upcoming afternoon games!” Mr. Macduff chirped. “Mr. Montgomery and I will of course go along to chaperone.”
Shock vibrated through my body.
What could I say to get out of this? Standardized testing? Rampant lice? Stomach flu?
But the kids were already surrounding me.
“Can we go, Ms. Josephine? Can we go?”
I mean, there really was no other option. I couldn’t have denied a bunch of hockey-mad 5 th graders the chance for VIP tickets.
But I didn’t like this. Didn’t like it at all.
I didn’t want to see Jesse and pretend like he was just another player when he was literally a world champion asshole.
On the day of the game, I had talked myself into thinking this was all a big coincidence.
After all, EVERY class at Elmsweep was going to get to go. It was just that the Heat Office Manager had been very. . . insistent that my class had to be the first.
We arrived early as the teams were warming up, and the familiar sounds of sharp blades on ice made my stomach twist inside.
For five years that had been the background noise to every homework assignment I completed, every book I read, every word game on my phone.
Hoping against hope that Jesse was out sick, I refused to look at the ice where the hockey players were warming up, instead looking at the tickets we’d been given at the entrance. I shuffled through them, turning automatically to lead the kids all back to the nosebleed section.
“Ma’am, please,” the usher said, waving to the front row. “ These are your seats.”
“There must be some mistake!” I insisted. “Those are some of the best seats on the rink.”
The man shook his head. “Only the best for you are my orders! If you would follow me, Ms. DeRosa.”
Then he led me and twenty-five 5 th graders to seats directly behind the glass on center ice.
Shit
I was hoping to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, to go to the game and leave without attracting any attention.
But it felt like all eyes were on me as I settled the kids, separating the ones who wanted to punch each other and directing Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Macduff to seats in between the biggest troublemakers.
We were in such sickeningly expensive seats that I even recognized a few celebrities in our section. Suddenly I had a wild fear I’d end up next to Taylor.
Good lord, this game couldn’t be over soon enough, which sucked because all my kids were so excited, here in Heat colors, waving homemade banners and signs. And the game hadn’t even started yet.
I needed to get a hold of myself.
Jesse was in my past. There was no reason to believe I’d have to do anything but see him across the ice.
I could handle that.
Just then I heard a sharp slice, and I felt a big body bump against the boards directly behind me, so hard I felt the reverberations in my chest.
My skin prickled but I didn’t turn around. The gasps from the kids made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up and my skin felt tight, my long dark ponytail heavy down my back.
When I heard his voice it was like a chill down my spine.
“Hi, Josie.”
I couldn’t understand the note in his voice. If I didn’t know any better, I would say it sounded like the time two years before when he had missed the cut and been sent down to the minors again. Raw and low, and with a note of pain he couldn’t hide.
But that made no sense. He was leading the league in goals, he was the star forward on his dream team. He had everything he wanted.
“Jesse,” I said coolly, but I still refused to turn around. “You didn’t need to come over here.”
There was silence for a moment and I heard his breathing, heavy against the glass, the sound ragged even in the noisy arena.
“Why did you block my number?” he asked, his voice a low growl.
“Didn’t want to talk to you,” I replied evenly. “Now go away.”
“Josie,” he said. “Josie, look at me.”
“Have a good game,” I answered dismissively, fiddling with my backpack like it was absolutely urgent to check the number of Band-aids.
“Please,” he said again, and I felt anger began to grow under my skin and tears prickle the corners of my eyes.
How fucking dare he have that note in his voice. How fucking dare he ask me to look at him!
I made to move past to my seat, but the glass rattled as I took one step away.
“Let me explain,” he insisted hoarsely.
Dimly, I began to hear people chant his name.
“Jesse! Jesse! #87! Gooooo Heat!”
I turned sideways and my heart twisted inside me to see him with his gloved hands on the glass, like he was trying to press through it.
The helmet obscured his face, but I could see his blue eyes, fixed fiercely on me.
Well, this was fucking aggravating.
“Apparently this isn’t getting through to you, but I don’t want to hear anything you have to say to me,” I hissed angrily.
Then I turned my back and went to my seat, wanting to scream at how he slowly skated away, as I deliberately pulled out my knitting.
I wished the game was a blur, but no, it seemed to pass painfully slowly, my face frozen and my lips moving with my automatic responses to the kids.
Yes, number 87 talked to me
No, it wasn’t that exciting
Yes, I hoped they would win
No, he hadn’t promised to get in a fight
No, I wasn’t going to call him back over and ask if he’d punch someone
No, I didn’t know if there was going to be a fight
Yes, we were going to get nachos
My heart still hammered every time Jesse skated right past us, the ice slicing up in a spray of white.
All the years of watching came back to me, but this time I didn’t give a fuck.
So I was shocked when his head twisted in my direction after his second goal of the game.
The stadium was going wild, screams echoing in my ears, the crowd so wild for #87 that all I saw were brightly colored blurs all around the ice.
But when Jesse looked over at me all he’d see was the one singular person sitting and knitting a very nice hat. Because fuck him, that’s why.
“The man is a hockey demigod!” Mr. Macduff howled in my ear.
“He’s a magician on the ice!” Mr. Montgomery agreed, vibrating with such excitement that the popcorn was hopping out of his bag.
The kids were incredibly excited, even though the game ended without a fight, and for everybody but me it was the perfect day.
After the buzzer rang, I got up in relief.
Finally, we could collect our complimentary T-shirts and leave, but suddenly the usher was back.
“Please come this way,” he said. “The team has arranged for a tour of the facility.”
The team ?
At least it couldn’t possibly be Jesse, since the game had just ended. . .
But as we were escorted into the tunnel, the star center met us at the entrance, in sweatpants and a T-shirt.
He still looked slick with sweat, like he hadn’t even stopped to shower. And, as always, he was too damn big and magnetic, making everyone laugh as he led the kids on a tour.
I hung back.
When we were dating, I had been used to this. Jesse was like the sun: golden, compelling, popular. I was the quiet, studious girl and I had been perfectly content to let him be the center and bask in the reflection.
But I didn’t care anymore.
His sun wasn’t for me anymore. Wasn’t for my benefit. Therefore it did not pertain to me.
After we had toured the locker room and facilities, he handed off the group to one of his teammates—a tall, dark-haired Czech named Karel, who had them all practicing shots on a goal in one of the training rooms.
I stood back by the door, checking my phone, and my stomach tensed as Jesse headed over to me.
Shit
He stopped right in front of me, and I could feel the heat radiating off him, see the tight grip my ex had on his thick biceps.
“Josie, I just want to talk,” he said in a low voice. “Please. Can you give me that?”
I had planned to be cool and disinterested, but at this ridiculous request I had to struggle to keep my temper in check.
“Can I give you that ? You don’t get to ask me anything. You don’t get anything from me.”
“I just—I just want to explain,” he said. “I really need to talk to you.”
“Well, we have nothing to talk about,” I shot at him.
He looked down at me, and I saw the muscles in his forearms flex and release, flex and release again. There was a muscle that moved in his jaw, and I didn’t like how close he was standing to me, how intently he was looking at me.
“I—miss you.”
“Bullshit,” I said, glaring at him.
“It’s not bullshit,” he gritted out. “I miss you so much.”
His jaw flexed and I saw him swallow convulsively.
“I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“How’s your girlfriend?” I interrupted.
“We—” he began, but I turned away.
“Never mind, I don’t want to hear it. Just go away. I don’t want to be your friend or anything. Don’t fucking bother.”
“Jo-bug, please,” Jesse pleaded, and I felt his big hand on my wrist, burning even though he held me gently. Like I’d disappear or something.
I shook him off in a fury.
“Don’t ever call me by that nickname again,” I spat at him, so angry that I wrenched my hand from his hold.
Jesse looked startled.
“Just let me explain—” he was saying, but I was already headed to the door. Then it opened and Taylor was there.
Of all the rotten awful luck.
But instead of saying anything, she just stood there, darting her eyes between us.
Jesse inexplicably ignored her completely, following me to the exit.
“Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asked me.
He was so close that I could smell his skin, the familiar scents of ice and heat.
“Absolutely not,” I retorted. “Get yourself in check, buddy.”
“Is there a problem?” I heard a deep voice behind me and I whirled around to see Karel, folding his arms and looking at Jesse and I. Taylor had taken a few steps back into the hallway and was watching with a frown on her pretty face.
“There’s no problem,” Jesse said, and I saw the way he turned almost protectively in front of me.
I wanted to fucking rip his face off.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Karel said.
Up close, his face was even more attractive, a straight strong nose with dark brows and thick head of dark waves.
“She’s no concern of yours,” Jesse said sharply.
I could barely see Karel past my ex’s broad shoulders.
“Beautiful women are always my concern,” Karel said. “Especially teachers. I love teachers.”
Oh, he was slick and he was trouble, but I couldn’t help smiling at his flirting.
“I give you an A for looks and a C for original lines,” I said.
Karel laughed at this, but Jesse didn’t.
“OK, class, let’s go!” I said, and I moved away as hastily as I could, trying to brush past Jesse, but I wasn’t quite fast enough.
He reached out for me, his hand brushing by my lower back, a jolt as I felt the contact of his thigh against my hip.
“This isn’t over, Josie.”
“Yes, it is,” I said through my teeth, and I smiled extra big at Karel.
“Thank you !” I said. “You’ve made this day a huge hit for the kids. And my principals,” I added.
“It was no problem,” he said smoothly as I heard Jesse grunt unhappily behind me.
As I herded the kids out the door, Karel touched my elbow briefly.
“Can I have your number?” he asked. “You’re stunning.”
I didn’t even hesitate.
I gave it to him loud and proud and then I left before waiting to see what my ex had to say about that.