Chapter 26
Alondra
Once the blizzard let up, and it was possible for the city to start clearing the snow from the roads, the guys spent the next two days at the rink practicing. Thankfully, Jack was feeling better by this morning, and able to play tonight.
He’s been in a great mood all night, though, and rightfully so, after the Wolves pulled off an incredible win in the last period. We’re at Twin City celebrating with everyone as one last hurrah before they head out on the road for a quick away series while the rest of us go home for Thanksgiving.
Jack’s been acting like nothing is different between us because technically, it’s not.
I only kissed one of his best friends on a dare, then Jack claimed he was tired right after and stormed off.
I crashed in the living room with Ellie and Sara, but when he came down the stairs the next morning while I was making breakfast, he seemed fine.
I’m struggling to keep up with the whiplash, but I’m assuming Jack’s perception of love is based on whatever happened between his parents, yet I’ve been too afraid to ask him about his dad like Dylan suggested.
It hurts to think, but the reality of this is that I can’t change his mind about relationships, so friends are all we’ll ever be. The sooner my heart realizes the minor detail, the better off I’ll be.
Still, here I am wearing Jack’s away jersey again, but only because he insisted on it.
It was more of a fight with him to not wear it, so I agreed.
The guys have all shed their jackets, and look overdressed in their ties and button-downs, but I’m not complaining.
Jack looks hot, and I’m not the only one who’s noticed.
I’ve been sipping on the same beer for so long, it’s now lukewarm.
Coop looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than at the dartboard he can’t use because of the girl standing in front of him, talking his ear off.
Sara’s flirting with a pretty girl up at the bar, grabbing us shots, and I’ve been chatting with Macy, Ellie, and Dylan most of the night, trying to avoid acknowledging Chad in the corner of the booth as he continues to try to speak over Macy.
Jack is talking to a girl who caught him on his way back from the jukebox, and I’ve looked over at them a suspicious amount of times that Macy hasn’t stopped eyeing me.
She has no room to talk, though. Chad’s sitting next to her because Macy caved when he begged her to take him back, but I’m staying out of it.
I swear, she has no backbone when it comes to him.
Okay, fine. Now I’m staying out of it.
“You played one hell of a game,” I say to Dylan who is sitting across from me next to Macy. Ellie is to my left, but she’s too busy giving Chad a dirty look to notice.
“Thanks, Al. I’m just glad you were able to make it tonight. I think Jack plays better when you’re there because he’s trying to impress you,” Dylan teases, and I roll my eyes.
“Whatever. He plays just fine without me there.”
“And I’m chopped liver, I guess,” Ellie says sarcastically to herself, and I take a sip of my warm beer, grimacing.
“You are not. I wouldn’t go if you didn’t, so that makes you Jack’s other lucky charm,” I say, just as Jack slides into the booth next to me.
“Jesus, I didn’t think she’d ever get the hint,” he grumbles, fanning the spark of hope in my chest, but just because Jack didn’t want to talk to her, doesn’t mean he wants to talk to me.
Dylan snorts. “Well, it was a big night for you. Don’t worry, Al was just telling me how great I played.”
I sip from my beer again as Jack’s thigh presses against mine. “And what about me? I scored the winning goal.”
“If you’re going to toot your own horn, then I don’t need to,” I tease, and Jack’s eyes shimmer with amusement.
“You can toot my horn any day,” he says, and it sounds so dirty, I can’t help laughing.
“I think she wanted to toot your horn,” I say, despite hating every word. I feel better when Jack rolls his eyes.
“The offer is only for you,” he says, taking a sip of his water as Macy asks Ellie what her family does for Thanksgiving.
“Congratulations on tonight’s game,” I say, playing it safe while an old country song starts through the speakers, and he smiles, his dimple appearing.
“C’mon, darlin’. Dance with me,” Jack says, pulling me along with him out of the booth before I can say anything.
I get a few dirty looks as Jack holds onto my hand, and we claim the small space in front of the jukebox. “Since when do you dance?” I ask, looking at him curiously, and his other hand slides around my lower back, tugging me closer.
“I’m from Texas. Everyone there knows how to swing dance. It’s a rite of passage,” he says, his eyes twinkling as he smiles down at me.
Despite being graceful on skates, I trip over my feet every other step while trying to follow along.
There’s a reason I skate solo instead of in a pair.
Jack laughs every time I mess up, or squeal, forcing me to hold tight to him when he dips me dramatically out of nowhere.
It doesn’t feel like Jack’s laughing at me, but more like he’s laughing with me.
I laugh as he spins me out and back into him, his arms closing around me, swaying us back and forth to the pop song playing through the speakers after his ended.
“Al, you have to let me lead,” he says, and I like the feeling of being in his arms a little too much.
“I’m trying.”
“Do you trust me?” Jack’s voice drops an octave, and the question is an easy one to answer.
“Yes,” I say, and I catch a glimpse of his radiant smile when he spins me out, and I’m slowly starting to recognize the steps in a pattern as I let go of my need to control everything by letting Jack twirl and move me in whatever direction he desires.
It feels incredible to let loose, even in the middle of a crowded bar, because I know Jack won’t let anything happen to me. He makes every reason why I shouldn’t feel this way for him slip away as we dance together.
At one point I rest my head on his chest, feeling it shake with laughter. It’s so easy to be with him. “What’s my number?” I ask, trying to catch my breath.
“Solid six.”
I look up at him, beaming. “A shining endorsement coming from you.”
“I have no problem giving you the rating you deserve, despite you continuing to lower the rating you gave our first kiss,” Jack teases and I roll my eyes. At least he didn’t ask me to rate Halloween, because it would have broken the scale, and I couldn’t have pretended otherwise.
“I’m telling you, it just wasn’t very memorable, pretty boy.”
Lies lies lies.
“Is that a challenge?”
I shrug, trying to seem indifferent until Jack tilts my chin up, his crystal eyes scanning over my face as if trying to see inside my mind. “What are you doing?” I ask after they land on my mouth, his pupils dilating with visible desire.
His fingers move under my chin to cup my jaw, and my breathing catches when Jack leans down, skimming his soft lips over mine to test the waters.
I lift myself up on my toes at the same time my fingers curl around the front of his shirt, pulling his mouth flush to mine. Jack’s hand slides into my curls, demanding more from me as our kiss turns desperate.
It feels like I’ve been struck by lightning, every fiber of my being electrified by his touch. I want to bottle the feeling to savor it forever.
Holy fucking shit, I’m kissing Jack again, and I’m content to take whatever I can get of him.
He nips at my lower lip, not even bothering to ask nicely for me to open for him. I moan when his tongue caresses mine, leading this completely. I tug at his shirt again, impatient for his hands to be on me, forgetting where we are.
Jack pulls away, the pad of his thumb stroking my cheek with the softest touch I’ve ever been held with. He rests his forehead against mine, and I feel less self-conscious about how lightheaded I am when his chest is rising and falling underneath my hand as dramatically as mine is.
I’m afraid to move, hoping he’ll kiss me again, but why did he kiss me?
Do I even care to know why, or should I just be glad it happened?
“What’s my number?” he asks a few moments later, still breathless, and the question sobers me from the intoxicating moment.
This was just for a number. I guess it’s better to know the truth now.
It’s laughable he even has to ask, though. Ten. Fucking ten out of ten. “Five,” I answer, wondering if this is what it’s like to be caught in a riptide. Would it be better to let myself drown in Jack, or should I try to keep my heart from suffering any further blows?
Despite every part of me wanting to stay in his arms, I pull away to look at him, immediately wishing I hadn’t. Jack’s lips are swollen from kissing me, and there’s a glint in his eyes I’d need a code to decipher.
“Really?” Jack raises his eyebrows, seeming doubtful, and his thumb drags over my bottom lip, pulling it down. What is he doing? What am I doing?
“I’m gonna go . . . um, freshen up,” I stammer, stepping out of reach because I need space, but I regret it once I see his face fall.
“Al—”
I shake my head, moving fast in the direction of the bathroom, feeling my heart struggle to keep up with what my head already knows.
This isn’t going anywhere. He’s my friend, and that’s all he wants to be.
It’s all I should want him to be, and kissing him back was a terrible fucking idea, no matter how much I wanted it.
I splash some water on my face, glad I didn’t wear any makeup because it’d be smeared all over my face now. How am I going to climb out of this sinkhole I’ve fallen in?
It was just a number to him. I know that, but it doesn’t make it sting any less. It’s not just a number to me, even if it’s the game we’re playing. This isn’t a game I want to play anymore.
When I get back to the table, Sara’s in the booth next to Dylan, and she passes me a shot with a knowing look, telling me she saw us. Jack has taken my seat next to Ellie and is asking Macy something without giving Chad a second look.
I tip the shot back, grimacing at the burn it leaves down my throat before washing the taste away with my lukewarm beer.
This sucks.
Jack bumps my leg under the table, and I will my smile not to fall while reminding myself that we’re just friends. It doesn’t matter how great that kiss was.
I once made fun of Jack for not having any friends who were girls, but now I understand why. He’s just so damn likable, it doesn’t matter how hard you try to fight it. Jack makes it way too easy to fall for him.
“Can we talk?” he asks, lowering his voice, and I shake my head.
“We don’t need to talk about anything. It was just a kiss to help your bruised ego,” I try to joke, making light of the situation.
His jaw tics, and he runs a hand through his hair, tugging on the chestnut strands. “My ego is fine. I think we should talk.”
“We’re here to celebrate your win. What just happened was no different than me kissing Nate for a dare, so let’s not make a big deal out of it,” I say, grabbing my beer.
“Got it,” he says, turning away from me, but it feels a hell of a lot more like Jack’s pulling away from me. Maybe distancing myself is a good idea.
It’ll make it hurt a lot less when the game is over.