Chapter 23
SYLAS
“Cig me.” Marc cups his palms, holding them up.
“Yeah, here.” I pat my pocket until I find what I’m looking for, fish it out, and throw it to him as we walk out of the rink.
“What the hell is this?” He holds up the stick of gum, waving it in the air. “I need—”
“I don’t do that anymore.” I blow out a breath, a white puffy cloud billowing in front of me before it disappears.
He freezes mid-step, staring at me, dumbfounded. I keep walking, knowing he’ll follow behind me, and he does a moment later.
“Since when?” I don’t look at him, but I know his eyes are trained on me. “Stop fucking with me.”
“I’m not.” I shove my cold hands in my pockets. “Anna doesn’t like it and—”
He bursts out laughing. “Holy shit.”
“Let’s not do this. We’re dating and—”
“It’s fake, Sylas. Remember? You guys are faking this because of your dad and mom and…and…oh…oh.” Realization deepens his voice.
I stop walking, pivot, and wait for him to get it out. Huffing out a breath, I pull my phone out and check the time, making sure I have enough time for this conversation. Anna and I made plans to meet after practice, and although we didn’t settle on a time, I don’t want to keep her waiting.
“Well?” I stare at him expectantly because he has yet to say a word. Instead, he’s staring at me like I’m a damn fish out of water. “Marc? Stop looking at me like that. Just say what you need to say.”
He wipes his palms down his face, chuckling in disbelief. “I’m just…shocked. Like…really…just…shocked.”
I impatiently stare at him. “Yes, you already said that. You have anything else to say? If not, I need to go.”
Marc grins widely. “I don’t know whether to congratulate you or offer my condolences.”
That confuses me. “Why?”
“Because this isn’t just a crush. You’re absolutely down bad for this girl. This is either going to be the best or the worst thing to ever happen to you.” He muses. “You and cigarettes are like the devil, and hell, you can’t picture one without the other. Did you just up and quit?”
I nod, indifferent. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Did she tell you to stop, or did you do it by choice?”
“It was my choice.”
“Christ.” He snuffs a chuckle, running his palms over his beanie. “Wait, did you sleep with her? Is that why—”
“No.” I shift my weight from one foot to the other. “I mean, we have, but it’s not like that.” I drag my fingers through my hair, grazing the tips of my cold ears. “Don’t be a dick.”
My heart picks up, my chest rises a little faster, and my palms sweat.
“I’m not,” he scoffs, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m never a dick unless necessary. You know that.”
“I’m serious. I’m going to tell you something and I don’t want you messing with me because it’s freaking me out,” I warn him.
He smiles like the asshole that he is, but then he softens. “I promise I won’t.”
“I like seeing her every day, and I’m not saying that because I expect or want sex. We wouldn’t need to do anything because I look forward to just seeing her.”
If he looks shocked now, I can’t imagine how he’d react if he knew how heavy my heart is beating, how my palms are profusely sweating, how my body feels ready to bolt to be with her, how my brain keeps replaying her smile and the sound of her raspy laugh.
“Damn.” He draws out the word. “You’re in deep.” He stands there, unblinking. Despite what he said, he doesn’t sound like he’s processing it. “So…deep.”
“Yeah, I am. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I really like her.
I woke up thinking about her and haven’t been able to stop,” I say, wiping my palms on my hips.
Marc detects the motion but doesn’t call me out on it.
“I’m so into her, but I don’t know what she feels for me.
I don’t want to ask because I don’t want to make things weird or make her feel like she needs to tell me what I want to hear because of our arrangement. ”
He clicks his tongue, eyes incredulous and mouth dropped so low, it could touch the concrete. “Jesus, Sylas.”
“I know.” It’s freezing as shit out here, but I can’t stop sweating.
“This has nothing to do with me, but it’s still stressing me out. I really need a cigarette.” He removes his beanie and drags his fingers through his black hair.
“You have gum. Use it.” I grab two pieces, remove the foil, and pop them in my mouth. Gum will never be the same; I can’t even chew it anymore without thinking of her. “I don’t know what to do.”
Marc accepts he’s not going to get a cigarette and slips the stick into his mouth. “This is shit.” He chews aggressively.
“I know. The cubes are better, but this is easier to carry.”
He’s quiet for a long moment, making me feel uneasy, but then he blows a bubble and stifles a laugh. “Get your shit together. You’re never like this. Just talk to her. If you have feelings, I’m sure she’s developed them too.”
I attempt to conjure every ounce of nonchalance from within. “I don’t know. She doesn’t do boyfriends.”
“But she’s sure doing you,” he replies simply, giving me a pointed stare.
I huff. “That’s different.”
“It’s not. Talk to her. You’ve never been afraid to say how it is. Don’t start now.”
“I know…”
I’m a confident person, but right now, I’m nervous. I shouldn’t be, and it’s stupid to feel like this, but it’s the effect she has on me.
It’s strange how one girl can make everything—correction: make me crumble.
“You sure know how to complicate things.” He doesn’t bother to hold back his laughter this time. “Don’t stress. I’m certain she’s into you as much as you’re into her.”
I’m hoping he’s right.
I meet Anna at the Columbus Circle holiday market.
She looks casual but pretty, wearing a cream-colored puffer jacket, a red-and-white-striped scarf, and light denim jeans that hug her hips and thighs. She’s wearing glasses and her hair is wavy instead of its usual straight style.
I aim for calm and cool when I stop in front of her, but her lips curl into a smile that’s now engraved in my head, and then I get a hint of perfume: apples, cinnamon, and maple. It smells good. I discreetly inhale and do it again because I can’t get enough of it or her.
It must cloud my thoughts because before I know it, I’m blurting, “You look really pretty and you smell good too.”
Her cheeks, already slightly pink from the chill that nips at them, are a shade darker. She brushes her bangs away, grinning sheepishly. “Thanks. You think I look festive enough?”
I slowly take her in again, absorbing every inch of her.
My heart patters rapidly and my palms sweat again.
“Super festive. I like your earrings.” I glance at the red bells that hang from her bow earrings and the other tiny hoops and studs that decorate her ear.
“Do you have an earring for every day, or what?” I tease.
She touches them. “And holiday. I feel naked if I don’t wear them.”
I grin, making a mental note of that. “Ready to check out the booths?”
She’s not cleaning for me anymore, and after I told her I’d never been to a holiday market, she demanded we come to one. It wouldn’t take much convincing on her part because I’d do whatever she asked.
After all, she’s my girlfriend. It’s my job to take her out on dates. Do what she wants, when she wants.
“How have you been living in New York for as long as you have and never been to one?” she asks as we stroll into the market side by side.
“My parents, especially Mom, have never cared for them. I’m sure you can imagine what she thinks of them.
” I tuck my hands in my pockets, not because I’m cold but because they won’t stop sweating.
I can’t believe this is what a crush feels like.
“And I guess living here for so long, I’ve become jaded to it all.
If I wasn’t in school or training, I was in Colorado snowboarding or in the tropics or something.
” I’m not trying to brag, but it’s just what I did, and I wanted to be away from all the bright lights and decor.
“Or something?” she asks, poking my side. She didn’t make a comment about my parents, but I’m sure she’s thinking about it.
“Fiji, the Maldives, Mexico…” I trail off. I could list all the places my parents have taken Thea and me, but I don’t want to make this about me. “How’s your arm, by the way?”
“Just a little sore.” Her gaze flicks to her covered arm then back at me. In spite of the frosty weather, the way she looks at me makes my body blister. “How’s yours?”
“Sore, very sore.”
She pins me with a disbelieving look. “You don’t feel it anymore, do you?”
I hold back my smile. “No, I don’t but I think everything I drank played a role in that.”
Anna scoffs. “We drank just about the same.”
“But I’m also taller and weigh over two hundred pounds,” I point out.
“Is it that or because you get hit so much on the ice, you hardly feel it now?” she says as we stop in front of a booth that sells candles.
She picks up one on display, inhales it, then holds it up for me to smell.
I shake my head at the peppermint scent, and she scrunches her nose in agreement.
“But I suppose the gear is there to protect you. So even with all of it on, does it hurt when you get struck with a puck?”
She picks up another, inhales it, then does a double take on the label, smelling it again. Meanwhile, I’m still stuck on what she said. I love that she looked me up and watched my games.
A megawatt smile spreads across my face. “Yeah, it hurts, especially if it gets you where the gear doesn’t cover.”
I grab her hand, lifting the candle to my nose. I take a whiff and then another but a long one, my lungs filling up with whatever the scent is. It smells like whatever Anna has on, and I glance at the label. ’TIS THE SEASON it’s called.
“Smells good.” I tentatively let go of her hand, grabbing two brand-new candles from the shelf. Never cared for candles, but I guess I’ll make this one the exception.
“It—what are you doing?” Her gaze flicks to them as she places the other back.
“I’m buying them.”
“Why?”
“Because you like it. I like it. And when you like something, you buy it.”
She doesn’t look as amused as I do. “You don’t have to be a smartass. You don’t—”
I lean down, my lips over her ear, hand clutching her waist. I make it quick because the sales lady stalls just a few feet away, watching us.
“Don’t play the ‘poor, woe is me, don’t buy me that because I’m an independent woman’ bullshit.
I’m not trying to be a pretentious, shallow asshole, but if I have to, I will.
I’m buying it because I have the money, so don’t be a brat and just accept it.
And remember, I’m your boyfriend. If I want to spoil my girlfriend, I will. ”
I squeeze her gently once before I let her go.
She rolls her eyes but I can see the way her lips subtly jerk up. “I am an independent woman, and I do know how to accept things. I just don’t usually have someone wanting to buy me things. But whatever, it’s your money and just so you know, one candle is forty dollars.”
“And this jacket was three grand, so what’s your point?” I toss out.
“Do you even like candles?”
She picks up another, sniffs it, then holds it up to my nose.
“No, but I like this one.” I shrug. It’s okay, but I don’t think I’ll like another as much as the one that reminds me of her.
She grins, putting it back and picks up a few more that we smell. Once we’re done and I go to pay, she doesn’t fight me.
“This better not be some charity thing. I swear if there’s a camera crew following me, I’ll kill you,” she threatens when we step out of the booth, jabbing a finger at my chest.
“Don’t worry, I already ticked off doing charity this year. Remember the auction?” I say, getting a glare and middle finger from her. I laugh, hooking my cold one around hers. “That’s not very nice of you. You do that again and you’ll end up on the naughty list.”
“Find me there next to you.” Her cheek twitches, and she squeezes my finger.
“Next to you?” I hum, doing a long and slow perusal of her body. “I’m fine with that.”
Something sparks in her eyes, and I wonder, pathetically, if she feels what I feel. I desperately want her to.
“Well, come on, we have three hours and many more booths to go.” Anna drops our hands but doesn’t let go of my finger. She tugs me along while I hold the pale red paper bag holding our candles, and I follow like a dog.