20. I Really Dont Want the Main Entry on My Wikipedia Page To Be About the Time I Beat Up Brant Morrison
This is a mistake.Behind me, I hear Brant talking to the group of people. A few of them say his name with a question in their voices, as if they don”t really believe it”s him. I slip around the corner. It would be so easy to leave. By the time he discovered I was gone, I could be halfway home if I jogged fast enough. Maybe he would come to the house to see why I left, but maybe he wouldn”t. Maybe he would take the hint and find a new partner.
The thought of him partnering with someone else makes me sick, though. I don”t want to imagine him giving that smile or those proud looks to anyone else. I never would have believed it, or been willing to admit it to myself, but I”ve enjoyed spending time with him this morning. It was good to see a side of him away from the practice ice. Maybe he”s not as bad as I thought when I first met him. Or maybe I”m just lonely.
It”s been almost a month since I last saw Em. FaceTime is nice, but it”s not like being in the same space and spending time together. That”s all this is with Brant. It has to be. As much as I pride myself on making it through life on my own, I still need to spend time with someone every once in a while. Brant is just fulfilling that need for me.
When he comes around the corner, he”s carrying two plastic sacks. ”You stole some poor family”s food?”
He looks behind him and then puts a finger over his lips. ”Keep it down. The dad went to the bathroom and left these sitting there. What was I supposed to do? You saw that line. I”d be stupid to not take advantage of the opportunity.”
I try to hold in my laugh, but I can”t. ”So this was all planned? You called ahead and ordered takeout, hoping I wouldn”t say no to anything today? What would have happened if I did?”
”I would have had all these pancakes to myself. It”s a win-win. Now, come on.” He intentionally lets his body bump mine as he walks by me. His upper arm glides across the outside of my shoulder. It feels like a thousand pins dancing on my skin.
”Where are we going? This will be cold by the time we go to either of our houses.”
”That”s why we”re not going back there.” We walk for half a block, and I swear he”s taking big strides on purpose so I”ll have to almost jog to keep up with him. He stops just outside a closed restaurant and hands me the two bags. ”Since you didn”t balk at me stealing food from a starving family back there?—”
”They were starving now?”
”Poor things looked like they hadn”t had a bite in weeks. You should have seen their shoes too. They didn”t have any. But if you don”t have a problem with me taking food from them, I hope you won”t have a problem with a little trespassing.” Before I can ask what he means, he springs over the short wrought-iron fence circling the outdoor seating area of the closed restaurant.
”Brant!”
”Lily? It”s fine. They don”t open until eleven. I checked. So they won”t need this table.”
”You checked? Does that mean you know the people who own this place?” I look up at the name over the awning and check for security cameras while I”m at it.
”It means I”m not a time traveler from the 1800s. I know how to use the internet. And it said they don”t open until eleven. So here.” He holds out his hands, but I”m not sure what to do. I look for a gate, but there”s nothing. There”s not even a gap big enough for me to squeeze through. ”I can”t get in there. I can”t climb this fence.”
”Lily, no one is asking you to climb the fence. Just come closer and stand still so I can lift you.”
”Absolutely not! You are not trying to lift me over this fence! You”ll hurt yourself, or drop me on top of it. Or both. Then we”re screwed. We won”t have any choice but to call for the paramedics. And police tend to follow paramedics when there”s a crime involved. Can you imagine the headlines? No. Let”s just go back home and we can microwave this.”
He puts one hand on a hip in what I”m sure is a mocking imitation of me. ”So dramatic. Let me guess, you were the lead in your high school production of Grease? You were Sandy?”
I scoff. He could not be further from the truth. I was forced to be a wallflower in high school, and I wouldn”t have been allowed to even audition for Sandy, let alone earn the part.
”Do you forget that I”m an elite goaltender, Lily?” He flexes like he”s in a bodybuilding competition. He”s trying to be funny, but there”s nothing funny about those biceps or the tightening they cause below my belly.
”Oh, you”re elite now?” I tease, looking anywhere except at those arms. Staring into the sun is less dangerous.
”I”m no Shannon Szabados, but I”m good. And pretty sure I can lift a girl over a fence, especially a fence that barely comes up to my waist.”
”Not going to happen. No.” There”s no way I”m letting him lift me. What if I”m heavier than he thinks I am? I would die from embarrassment and possibly a broken back. Nope. He”s going to have to give in on this because I am not. ”Stop! Put me down!”
”Quit squirming, or I will drop you.”
”You shouldn”t be in a position to drop me in the first place!” I swing my feet up and over the fence and he lowers me to the ground beside him.
As soon as he does, he doubles over with a grunt. His right hand whips to his lower back. ”Okay, so I hate to say this… Ugh, maybe you were right.”
I drop the bags of food onto the nearest table and rush to his side. He groans again, and I blow out a deep breath to fight back the panic. ”I”m going to run my fingers along your spine, and I want you to tell me where it”s tender, okay?” I press lightly at the middle of his back, well above where I suspect any injury, and run my fingers down gently. I only make it past a few vertebrae when he bolts up. My heart thuds against the walls of my chest until I realize the noise he”s making is laughter. ”Brant, don”t you even.”
”Did you really think I would hurt myself lifting you over that? You weigh next to nothing.”
”You are so lucky we are in public and that I really don”t want the main entry on my Wikipedia page to be about the time I beat up Brant Morrison.” I cover my mouth and shout into my palm.
Brant makes a show of keeping as far away as possible while still pulling a chair out for me and still laughing. ”Sit, before you give yourself a heart attack.” I do. Then he sits beside me. Dangerously close for someone who just pulled a stunt like that. And dangerously close for a person who makes my breath catch every time he gets too near. ”I hate to be a jerk,” he says, ”but I have two issues with what you said. First, you wouldn”t be able to beat me up. I”m a hockey player. We fight all the time.”
”You”re a goalie,” I remind him. ”When is the last time you were in a fight?”
”Maybe I haven”t been in a fight, exactly, but I”ve seen plenty of them. I”m sure I absorbed all the best moves by being so close.”
”That”s not even how that works,” I say.
”And second, you don”t have a Wikipedia page. What if getting arrested for breaking and entering with me is your one chance at fame? I”m doing you a favor. You”re welcome. Now let”s eat before this gets any colder.”
”How do you know I don”t have a Wikipedia page? You looked me up?”
The corner of his lip curls up. I wish it didn”t send my pulse racing again. I wait for him to say something, but he just pulls out container after container until I forget about it. And about the fact that we”re trespassing.
”What did you order?”
”Not everything, if that”s what you”re thinking. I don”t know what you like, so I just told the lady to give me what she thought were the best things on the menu.”
”She apparently thinks everything is the best thing on the menu.”
”We”ll have leftovers. Leftovers are good. So, tell me what charity you think we should represent?”
I take the packet of plastic silverware he”s holding out for me and set it on the table as I open the unmarked container closest to me. My chest flutters when I see what it is. Not a sign, I tell myself. Just an omelet. An omelet smothered in green chile sauce. One of my favorite foods, and the breakfast dad would always cook for me.
I pull it close and give Brant a look that warns him that this is all mine. Of course, before I get a chance to take a bite, he stabs it with his fork, breaking off a piece that”s nearly half the entire omelet, and shoves it into his mouth. ”Asshole. And your no-kill shelter is fine. That”s a good cause. Let”s just do them. Not like we”re going to win anyway.”
”This is great. Is there sausage in here?” He reaches out with his fork again, but I slide the container away before he can take more. ”Fine. I won”t share the Nutella stuffed French toast then.” It”s possible I moan in anticipation before moving the omelet back within his reach. But I make sure to get a bite before he takes any more. Not as good as Dad”s. ”And we”ll compete for your charity,” he says. ”Tell me what it is. Teammates have to communicate with each other. If we”re going to be teammates, you have to trust me.”
I stare at him for a second. Then notice I”ve gone from chewing the omelet to gnawing my lower lip. What is it about him that makes me want to trust him? To tell him everything. Whatever it is, I can”t do it. He might be fine with the truth. He would be, I”m sure of it. But once the word is out, I can”t control who knows. So I can”t tell him. But I could tell him about Bridges. He wouldn”t suspect anything just because I want to play for an LGBTQ shelter, right? Animals are a great cause, but I”ve seen with my own eyes the difference that money could make for Bridges. ”Tell me what you told Coach about his car, and I”ll tell you.”
He chuckles. ”That”s easy. I told him I fell asleep and crashed into it. That”s why I had Kayden take me to practice Friday too. I”m pretending it”s my car in the shop instead of yours. And I told Coach I would pay whatever I need to get his car fixed.”
Suddenly, I”m way too sick to worry about the French toast. ”How much do you think it will be? I”ll give you every penny.”
He shakes his head. ”You”re not giving me anything. I”m doing this for you.”
”No, you”re not. We”ll work this out later, but I will pay you. What did Coach say? Was he okay with it? I heard him yell at you at the beginning of practice.”
”He told me there”s no way I”m starting the season opener now.”
”Oh no!” I cover my mouth. Brant tries to look like it doesn”t matter to him, but I know better. I”ve overheard him talking with the guys. I know just how much this means to him. I put my hand on his forearm, and for a second, we both look at each other. Then our eyes drift down.
I should take my hand from him. I try. The muscles in that hand, that arm, refuse to contract. All I can do is look back up at him. He”s still staring at my hand. His mouth is working like he”s trying to say something, and I let myself imagine what it would feel like for that mouth to work against mine. It would be so easy to lean forward and kiss him now. He”s less than a foot away. I try to convince myself to not do it, but the logic is so quiet compared to the sound of my heartbeats. Then his eyes shoot up to mine. Every muscle in my body tightens, and I freeze. Caught. I don”t hold his stare, though. My attention drops to his lips. They part a fraction of an inch, as if they”re inviting mine. I want them. More than this omelet or the French toast. Maybe more than I want the money for the charity, I want to feel his lips on mine. I want to spread this heat into him.
”I can”t let you do this,” I whisper. His lip quivers, and I”m finally able to think of anything but him. ”Brant, I”m serious. You can”t give that up for me.”
I pull my hand away from his arm, and we both lean back. I try to act like I wasn”t two seconds away from kissing him. ”It”s just one game,” he says.
”We”ll go into his office together tomorrow, and we”ll tell him. I”ll promise to pay whatever I need to get this fixed.”
”And I”ll tell him you”re lying to cover for me.”
”Brant,” I huff out his name, annoyed that he”s being like this.
”I”m going to take care of you, Lily. Stop trying to fight it. Now, tell me what charity we”re competing for.”
With a quirk of those freaking eyebrows of his, he stops any argument I might have. ”What if I take you there? Tomorrow, after practice?” I know it”s a mistake even as I decide to do it.