10. Blake
ten
Blake
At home, I’m immediately bombarded with the strong scents of Derek’s famous Salmon Alfredo—otherwise known as the shit we eat every Monday. I groan, kicking off my shoes at the front door remembering the way Alec scolded all of us for walking around the house with shoes on.
The sounds of yelling and hushed curse words come from the living room as I beeline it to the kitchen. Inside, Derek hovers over the stove with his all-pink ‘Mother Knows Best’ apron wrapped snugly around his waist.
The apron had been a gag gift for Derek’s birthday last year since he’s our only culinary major on the team but the punk liked it so much he began to wear it every time he cooked at the house.
“When are you going to stop making pasta? Can we have pizza for once, or something?” I groan as he whirls around, pointing a spoon covered in sauce at me.
“Whenever you hockey heads decide you no longer want to be on the team. I’m trying to keep all our diets healthy.” He tuts before muttering a slew of swear words in Spanish.
I chuckle as he says something with bitch in it as I take a seat at the dining room table adjacent to the kitchen.
“How am I a son of a bitch when you’re the one that won’t broaden your variety of pasta dishes?”
“Why are you in my kitchen?” He rolls his eyes, mixing the chunks of salmon with the pasta sauce .
Ignoring him, I whip out my phone and snap a picture of him before opening my messages with Denver.
Me
Hello cousin.
Seattle
Ew.
Why are you texting me? I thought I blocked you.
Me
Ouch. Not going to take all ur time.
What was Cleo’s youtube again?
Seattle
Why? You crushing on her or something?
Me
No. Of course not.
I need it for…research purposes.
Seattle
Right…research…
She’s IcingIt on youtube… do all your research but leave me out of it. I think her and I are going to be good friends soon.
Me
Friends my ass…
I highly doubt an angel like her would be friends with a gremlin like you.
Seattle
You have five seconds to stop texting me fuckface.
Shaking my head at Denver’s annoying use of her favorite nickname “fuckface”, I hop up from my seat at the kitchen table. Derek’s still cooking and singing his telenovela songs when I leave him to go to my room. If there’s one thing I’ve learned living with the guys, it’s that I will not be caught dead showing interest in a girl. I refuse to have them tease me about someone who doesn’t even want me.
I’ll take my L in silence, thank you very much. Speaking of losses, I hope I’m not at a total loss with Cleo. She hasn’t tried at all to talk to me between those practices and now and I can’t figure out why.
Does she truly not like hockey players? Is it because her dad is my coach? Why won’t she try with me, or at least flirt back? If I can’t find out anything from her in person, I’ll just have to find out some other way. With a light heart, I open up the YouTube app and immediately go to work, looking her up.
IcingIt Cleo and boyfriend Marcelo Rivers on the grid @ Vegas Grand Prix.
Cleo Jones and hockey star Marcelo Rivers call it quits!
Where has IcingIt been ?
My hearts feels as if it’s gone on a sky-fall as I read over the newest headlines all about Cleo and fucking Marcelo Rivers. I’ve played Rivers for the past two years since coming to Summerfield and he’s good, I’ll admit. But he’s dirty. He goes for cheap shots when refs aren’t looking and is just an overall asshole on the ice.
Is this the kind of man that Cleo likes? I mean, Marcelo isn’t ugly, he’s just… so… ew.
“Dude! The pasta’s ready. What’re you doing?!” Jace yells and before I can shut my phone off he’s jumping on top of me on my bed, peeking at my screen.
My heart goes still as he remains silent for what seems like the first time in his life. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been afraid of the Hercules look-alike until now. Jace isn’t a small guy he’d probably—
“You have five seconds to explain why the fuck you’re looking at Cleo and him , or so help me God, I will rip out your throat and feed it to Charlie’s kitten.”