Chapter 10 Harper #2
Macy sees my doubt and takes advantage of it, wiggling her eyebrows like a weirdo. “Admit it. He’d be a great date.”
I groan. “Even if I did think that, I can’t just show up to the rink and start flirting. I’ll look desperate.”
Macy shrugs. “So? Desperate times, babe.”
True. I am desperate for the promposal—but I am not desperate for a date. Not anymore.
Not since I found him in my backyard.
Giving up, I stand, grabbing a hoodie my grandmother gave me for my birthday from the closet. It’s pink (obviously), embroidered on the back with an inspirational quote and flowers.
Next I pull on leggings, assuring myself as I begin braiding my hair that this is going to be fine.
I am just going to the rink to observe. I don’t even need to talk to Easton. Macy will be distracted by Marcus and forget about the whole promposal idea, and everything will be all right.
Strictly reconnaissance.
“You look like you’re running errands with your mom,” Macy informs me rudely.
I turn to glare at her. “I hate you.”
She grins. “Love you too, babe. Now get your ass moving—meet me in front of the rink in twenty.”
—
Macy is already lingering in the parking lot when I arrive, bundled up in a stylish cropped jacket that somehow makes her look effortlessly cool while I look as if I got dressed in three seconds. Which I did.
She taps on my window the second I park. “Let’s go.”
I take a deep breath before stepping out into the cold air. “I changed my mind. This is dumb.”
Immediately no. Why did I let Macy force me into this? Easton is going to think I’m stalking him, on top of the deal I forced him into.
Macy loops her arm through mine, dragging me toward the entrance. “Too late. You’re committed.”
The second we walk inside, the frigid air hits me at the same time the sound of blades on ice echoes through the arena.
A few girls—mostly underclassmen I don’t recognize—are already lingering by the plexiglass, pretending to be deeply interested in their phones but definitely not-so-subtly watching the guys practice.
I swallow hard.
Strictly. Reconnaissance.
“Come on,” Macy urges. “I want Marcus to see me.”
I groan, dragging my feet.
And then—there he is.
Easton.
He’s in full gear, skating backward with ease, laughing. His helmet is tilted up just enough for me to see the sharp angle of his jaw, the stray pieces of dark hair curling at his forehead.
Dang, he’s so freaking cute.
Macy nudges me. “You’re staring.”
I snap out of it, forcing myself to look away. “I wasn’t staring.”
“Chill out. Staring isn’t a crime.” She grins. “Good news: He looks hot. Bad news: You look like you pooped your pants.”
Seriously. I hate her so much sometimes.
A loud whistle blows, signaling a break in practice. Several guys skate toward the benches, lifting their helmets to wipe sweat off their faces. A few of them continue taking shots at the net.
Macy’s eyes light up, and she straightens, her hair bouncing as she waves enthusiastically. “Babe!”
I follow her gaze and see Marcus skating over, a grin plastered on his face. His helmet comes off, hair damp and messy from sweat.
“Babe! You came.” He leans over the wall and plants a quick kiss on her lips, his gloved hand cradling her jaw for a few seconds before pulling back. “You cold?”
“Nope.” Macy beams. Twirls a strand of hair around her finger like the world’s biggest flirt.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
Ever since he asked her to prom, they’ve become so sickeningly gaggy.
Marcus’s eyes flick to me, his smile widening. “Didn’t expect to see you here, Conrad. Is this your first time at the rink?” He scratches the back of his head as he studies me.
I shove my hands in my hoodie pockets. “Macy dragged me here.”
Macy bursts out laughing, bumping her shoulder against mine. “She’s lying—she was begging to come. There was someone she wanted to see.”
I gasp. “There is not!”
She ignores my fit, eyes only for Marcus. “You guys look good out there.”
Marcus puffs his chest out just a little, clearly pleased. “Thanks, babe.”
Babe, babe, babe.
Marcus bends over to kiss her again, pressing his mouth against hers as if he has all the time in the world to linger by his new girlfriend.
Ugh. I’m so jealous.
Not that I want Marcus—obviously. But I want that.
What they have.
The easy back-and-forth. The flirting. The effortless touch. The way Macy doesn’t even have to think before she says something cute, and he just Eats. It. Up.
I sneak a glance at the ice, my eyes finding Easton almost immediately. He’s talking to his teammate Gabe, leaning casually against his stick, his smile easy and relaxed.
What would it be like to have that with him?
To feel that comfortable?
Marcus’s voice snaps me back to reality. “You two sticking around?”
Macy beams, her whole face lighting up as he smiles at her. “Someone has to cheer you on.”
“I think I’m gonna puke,” I mutter—not that either of them remembers I’m standing here.
Marcus laughs, then pulls Macy in for another quick kiss. “I’ll see you after.”
“Good luck,” she whispers. Then, before I can stop her: “Tell Easton Harper says hello!”
I whip toward her, glaring. But she only smiles innocently and blows him a kiss as he skates away, leaving a trail of ice shavings and a heated blush on Macy’s cheeks.
“Why did you say that?” I hiss.
She grins. “You want a date, don’t you? Watch—he’ll wave, I’m sure of it.”
We stare as Marcus glides toward his friends—a group of total baddies—gloved hand pointing over his shoulder toward us as he calls something out.
The group of them turn.
My heart does this stupid little jump when I feel Easton’s gaze land on me.
Our eyes connect. “Wait for it…” Macy whispers.
For a second, he stands in the center of the ice, helmet tucked under his arm, dark hair tousled and damp. His gaze is unreadable, face perfectly blank.
And then—
He turns away.
I blink.
Blink again, taken aback.
No nod? No smirk? Not even a stupid eye roll to acknowledge that he’s seen me? Nothing?
He says something to Gabe, who laughs and punches his arm before skating off. Easton follows at a leisurely pace.
Embarrassment creeps up my neck, burning my cheeks.
Macy, registering my reaction, chews her lip. “Okay, that doesn’t mean anything. He’s probably in focus mode.” A second later, her gaze travels back to Marcus. “God, he’s hot.”
I nod robotically, though my mind lingers on Easton. “Right.”
So hot—and apparently so over me.
My chest tightens. I will myself not to watch Easton skate away. But of course, I do. His broad shoulders look even broader beneath his practice jersey, his hair sticking out from under his helmet.
Maybe he didn’t see me.
Maybe Macy’s right and he wants to stay in the zone.
Except I’m literally right here. Dead in his line of sight. I would’ve had to be invisible for him not to notice me. I AM WEARING MY SIGNATURE COLOR: PINK!
Macy continues to chatter on and on and on about Marcus’s buff legs: how perfectly sculpted they are, how she wishes she could have half his muscle tone, blah blah blah. I nod and make appropriate noises, but my mind is elsewhere, spiraling.
Grasping.
Why isn’t Easton acknowledging me?!
“…by the locker room afterward.” Macy is saying. “Hey. Are you listening?”
“Huh? Yes—locker room afterward.”
She cocks an eyebrow, clearly not believing for a single second that I was listening to a darn thing she just said.
The team skates forward, then backward, sticks slicing through the air in perfect synchronization. Easton looks irritatingly good, even with that intense, focused expression on his face.
Correction: especially with the focused expression on his face.
He comes closer, stopping just near the boards…close enough that if I tapped the glass he’d hear it. He flicks his gaze up briefly, scanning the stands. My heart lurches; my breath catches in my throat.
This is it.
He’ll see me…He’ll smile—or wave—or something, anything to acknowledge me.
But he doesn’t.
His eyes slide over me as he moves past…
As if I don’t even exist.