Chapter 13 #3
I rolled my eyes and told her she was being preposterous, but the truth was, I had hoped she was right.
I even let myself get all worked up over it as I got ready for our night out.
I felt so silly getting dolled up for a hockey game, and now that I’m sitting in the bleachers, I know I was right to feel that way.
A group of girls sitting two rows below me turned around and snuck a glance at me. I’ve officially lost count of how many times they’ve done it.
“Is she seriously going to come to all his games? Like, can she not take a hint? He plays so much better when she’s not in the stands.” That wasn’t true. He’s even said he plays better with me here.
“I bet she’s wearing the biggest size jersey they sell.” I wasn’t, not that it should matter if I were, but their words still hurt because it was just another reminder that I wasn’t good enough for Callum or his world.
“He’s just fucking her because he feels bad for her. That’s all.” Considering my virginity was still intact, that one made me laugh.
I pretend I don’t notice their stares and snickers and focus on the ice, where Callum just jumped over the boards for his shift.
He pushes his legs hard, catching up with the play easily, and I hold my breath as he checks an opponent hard into the glass.
The guy doesn’t take too kindly to it, and he gets right in Callum’s face.
I can see their mouths moving, but I can’t make out what’s being said.
It doesn’t matter, though, because suddenly Callum shoves on his back, and the other player goes sprawling to the ice.
The rink explodes, half the people cheering, the other half wanting a penalty as the training staff runs over to check on him.
It takes a few minutes, but he gets up on his own, and the away team gets the call they were looking for.
The home crowd boos as they announce that Callum has to sit in the box for five minutes.
“I’m telling you, she’s a curse on him,” one of the girls from earlier says loud enough for me to hear.
But that’s not what has my attention. I’m too busy watching my boyfriend in the penalty box, his head hanging low as his team goes down a man and has to fend off a five-minute power play.
Much to the team’s dismay, it’s a brutal five minutes, with the other team scoring twice and officially taking the lead.
They’re unable to recover, and the game ends 5–3 with the win going to the out-of-towners.
I can tell Callum’s mad as he skates off the ice, and I try to rack my brain for what could have happened while I wait for him outside the building. I watch his other teammates leave as I stand there, a few of them sending me glances, but nobody says anything to me. They hardly ever do.
When he finally comes walking out thirty minutes after the game ends, his hockey bag slung over his shoulder, he spots me immediately and walks my way. He moves in to kiss me, but I turn my cheek. I have way too many questions to let myself get distracted by his kisses.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Um, no. What the heck happened out there? What was that?”
“It was nothing,” he says, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the parking lot. “Are you ready? We don’t want to be late. The restaurant won’t hold our table much longer.”
“Okay, I know, but, Callum…tell me what happened. You didn’t cross-check him like that for no reason.”
“It wasn’t a big deal, Clover. Just hockey stuff.”
Except he’s not looking me in the eyes as he says it. He’s lying. I stop, and since he has his arm slung around me, he stumbles, barely catching himself.
“Shit, Chloe.” He moves to stand in front of me. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
But I don’t say anything. I don’t need to. Callum knows.
He sighs, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose. “Come on, Clover,” he begs quietly. “Can’t you see I don’t want to rehash it? I just want to move on and have a good night. We have reservations, remember?”
I know we do. It’s our first anniversary. How could I forget marking the best day of my life so far? But in this moment, I don’t care about it. I just want to know what was so bad that he took that penalty.
“What did he say to piss you off?” I ask him. “Was it…” I gulp. “Was it about me?”
He closes his eyes, and it’s all the answer I need.
It’s just like those girls who were whispering about me earlier.
I had really hoped bullying would be left behind in high school, but that hasn’t been the case since we began dating.
At first, I thought I could handle it. It was a few comments here and there, usually about how “he could do so much better.” But as the months went on and people realized it wasn’t just some fling, things got worse.
I think the worst part was that while I knew it was because the girls were jealous that I was Callum’s girlfriend and they weren’t, it didn’t matter.
The words still stung and planted themselves in my brain to the point that I almost started to believe them.
Then he would give me one of those looks, and everything would be okay.
Right now, though, it doesn’t feel okay.
“What did he say?”
Callum closes his eyes. “Please don’t make me repeat it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not true!” he explodes, tossing his hands into the air. “It’s not fucking true, and I don’t see the point in discussing it anymore. Now, come on. I want to go to dinner with my girlfriend.”
He reaches for me again, but I sidestep him.
He growls. “Clover…”
“No, don’t Clover me. If you’re going to speak, you had better be telling me what was said out there that was so awful you got a five-minute major and cost your team the game.”
“I should have done more to him than just cross-check him. I should have beaten his skull in. I should have killed him. I should have…”
He closes his eyes again, working his jaw back and forth, and I wait. I’m not going anywhere with him tonight until I know what has him so mad. If I’m going to be the reason he loses a game, I want to know what was said. Then he opens his mouth, and I hold my breath.
“He said…” He opens his eyes, then sighs. “He said, ‘She must give one hell of a blow job because I wouldn’t be caught dead with a girl like that.’”
A girl like that. He doesn’t have to elaborate on what that means—I know.
A girl who is good enough for him, who fits the standard for hockey girlfriends of tall, blonde, and slim, which is the total opposite of me.
He looks sick repeating it, and I feel sick hearing it. It’s somehow exactly and not at all what I was expecting at the same time. I hate it. I hate this moment. I hate that my eyes are burning with unshed tears, and I really hate that Callum lost a game because of me.
This is all my fault. I knew I wasn’t good enough for him from the start, and now I’ve cost him a game.
“No, no,” he says, dropping his bag and taking my face in his hands.
“Don’t cry, Clover. Please. I can’t stand to watch it, especially when that fuckhead isn’t worth your tears.
” He swipes his fingers under my eyes, catching the ones that have already fallen.
“Especially when it’s not true. Okay? It’s not true.
Don’t listen to him. Don’t listen to any of them. ”
It’s the first time he’s ever acknowledged the whispers I’ve been hearing for months. I had no idea he knew about them. Why has he never said anything before? Or has he, just not to me but to them? He’s been hanging out with his teammates and roommates less and less. Is that…is that because of me?
“Come on.” He picks up his bag, grabs my hand, and pulls me toward his car.
“Callum…” I tug on his hand, but he doesn’t stop. “I know you were excited for tonight, but I really don’t feel like going to dinner right now.”
“We’re not going to dinner.”
“Then where are we going?”
He doesn’t answer, just opens the car door, and because I feel so wrung out right now, I climb in without question.
We don’t talk as he drives to I don’t even know where.
I don’t have a car, so I haven’t explored Denver much since moving here, and I’m surprised when he pulls into a hotel parking lot and backs into a spot.
“What are we doing here?” I ask as I unclick my seat belt.
“I’m proving to you just how much it’s not true.”
He helps me out of the car and leads me into the hotel lobby, and in a daze, I let him.
He checks us in—he apparently already had a room reserved—and we make our way to the elevators.
We stand inside the car in silence, our hands linked together, a soft jazz song playing overhead.
I want to ask him so many questions, but I don’t even know where to start.
When we arrive on our floor, I let Callum pull me out and into the hall, which feels so small as we make our way down it. He stops in front of room 1010 and holds his keycard up to the scanner. It turns green, and I expect him to rush inside, but he doesn’t.
He pauses, exhaling a long breath before he turns and looks at me—really looks at me—for the first time since he finished his game.
“We were supposed to come here after dinner, our bellies full of pasta and dessert. I was supposed to hold your hand on the drive over, and I was going to kiss the hell out of you in the elevator, Diet Coke breath be dammed.” He smiles softly. “But I ruined that.”
I open my mouth to argue with him, but he shakes his head.
“I did. It was my fault.” He points at his chest, then takes a step toward me. “I shouldn’t have taken that penalty. I shouldn’t have let him get to me. I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have listened to him.”
He closes the last of the distance, one hand landing on my hip, the other cupping my face as he turns my eyes up to his. I blink back the tears that haven’t let me alone.
“What that prick said…ignore him, Clover. You’re perfect.
Fucking gorgeous. Your curves”—he squeezes my hips that have always been a bit too big for my liking, like he’s trying to make a point—“they’re one of my favorite things about you.
They have never bothered me, and they never will.
My other favorite things? One, you’re smart. ”
I’m not, though. He knows how hard I have to work to get the grades I do.
“You’re smart,” he repeats, as if he knows I need to hear it again. “You’re kind, even when you really don’t fucking need to be. You’re funny but never on purpose. And you’re…you’re…” He laughs. “Fuck, you’re you. Do you have any idea how special that is? How special you are?”
You’re special to me, Clover. In a big damn way.
I remember his words from before. Hell, I’ve stamped them onto my heart, clung to them whenever I needed a reminder that he chose me and not one of those other girls.
“I love you, Chloe. Okay? I fucking love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life.
I’ve never felt like this before. My heart races whenever you’re near, and sometimes even when you’re not, just because I’ve thought of you.
My entire body tingles whenever I touch you, even if our hands barely graze.
And whenever I see you enter a room…” He grins, almost like he’s picturing just that.
“Shit, I don’t know. It’s like time slows down, you know what I mean?
Like one of those cheesy scenes from those rom-coms you’ve made me suffer through.
You make me want to jump on top of tables and serenade you in the middle of the cafeteria to a really bad song, and we both know how awful I am at singing.
You make me want to be a better person, and I’ve never really cared about doing that before. ”
He bends down ever so slightly, until our eyes are level and he’s not looking down at me and I’m not looking up at him. We’re on the same level. The same page, even.
“You are it for me, Chloe. From the second you rolled your beautiful brown eyes because I called you that nickname you hate, you were mine. And even though this night didn’t go how I planned, if I’m lucky, you’re going to follow me into that room and let me prove to you just how much I mean those words. Just how much I love you.”
I don’t know what to say. Or maybe that’s not true—I do know what to say.
Of course I do, but it doesn’t feel like enough.
Not in this moment. This moment needs more.
It needs action. It needs me to make a decision—and I’m ready to do just that.
With shaking hands, I take the keycard from Callum and hold it up to the scanner.
This time, when it turns green, I push on the door handle. I reach back, taking my boyfriend’s hand, and I lead us into the room.