Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
JJ
Eighteen Years Old
“I’ve got orange soda for you, Twizzlers for me, three kinds of chips, and, don’t get too excited, but they had Ding Dongs too.”
Adeline snorts as she pulls her hotel room door open wider.
I step inside and almost stumble when I discover how much skin she’s got on display. Damn. There may be pieces of fabric covering some parts of her body, but I don’t know that I’d categorize them as clothes.
Her tank top is tiny, her shorts tinier, though she’s wearing absurd socks that come up to her knees that have Aiden Langfield’s face all over them.
“Nice socks.” I stride past her, ignoring her sweet scent. She goes back to braiding her wet hair, something I’ve seen her do a hundred times, as she follows me toward the—fuck, there’s no table. “Where’s your table?”
She snorts. “Damn, hot shot, way to point out that your room is nicer than mine.”
I eye her. “They really gave you a standard room?”
“They gave us all standard rooms. You’re just bougie. Your parents probably upgraded you without you knowing.”
I drop my head forward and sigh. I could totally see my dad doing that. He’s still trying to make up for how many games he and Mom have missed the last few years.
Like I’d ever hold my mother’s cancer diagnosis and treatment against them.
She’s in remission, thankfully, and her hair is finally long enough for a short bob, which she seems very excited about.
Sometimes I catch my dad watching her with fear in his eyes, like he’s scared she’ll disappear. It’s a reminder that we’re not in the clear just yet.
I force a smile to my face. “I like nice things. I deserve them, Angles.”
She laughs. “And he’s modest too. Also, Twizzlers taste like plastic. I wouldn’t consider them a nice thing.”
“Yeah, but they’re my mom’s favorite, so I’ve been addicted since I was a kid.”
Her brow creases a little. “You never told me that.”
I shrug. “Well, now you know.”
“Give me one,” she says, holding out a hand.
I drop the goods onto the bed closest to the door. This room has two beds, even though she doesn’t have a roommate, and she always sleeps in the one farthest from the door because she claims it’s safest.
Like somehow the extra ten seconds she’d have if someone broke in would do her much good.
That weird pinch in my chest hits when I imagine something bad happening to Adeline. Before I can think too much about it, she’s standing beside me, that sweet scent surrounding me. With her this close, it takes all my brain power to focus on how to open the Twizzler package.
I fail epically, because of course I do, and rip the bag completely down one side. The contents spill onto the bed, and because they’re basically plastic like she said, they fall in one big clump.
With a light laugh, she picks it up, pulls one off, and throws it at me. Then she does the same for herself and takes a big bite.
“Yup, still tastes like plastic,” she says, chomping on it. She takes another bite, ripping at the candy with her teeth. “I kinda like them, though.”
Chuckling, I pick up the soda I brought for her and shuffle to the bathroom.
“Where are you going with that?” she yells.
I open it over the sink, taking the brunt of the spray I knew was coming, then clean it—and myself—off before bringing it back to her, top off. “Opening your drink.”
Her teeth glide over her bottom lip and those pretty brown eyes of hers rise to mine. “Oh, thanks.”
I settle on the bed with a sigh. “You upset about missing prom?”
We signed up for this goalie camp last year, before we knew it was the same weekend as the dance.
Even if I’d known, I would have been here.
Though maybe that’s because I knew Adeline would be here too.
After sneaking into her room and sleeping beside her every night for almost a year, talking with her and confiding in her, I miss her.
Sure, we still play and practice and travel together and we go to school together, but it’s not the same. We don’t get many moments like this.
Adeline settles on the bed beside me and grabs another Twizzler. “Eh, it’s not like anyone asked me to go.”
I frown, studying her. “Was there someone you wanted to ask you?”
She rolls her eyes. “No. But who wouldn’t want to at least be asked? I’m not like you, JJ.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
She scoffs. “For guys, playing hockey ups your level of hotness. For me, it only makes me intimidating.”
I sigh. She’s not wrong. Girls are happy to drop to their knees the second they find out I play hockey. Not that I take anyone up on the offer.
Still, I work not to swallow my tongue imagining someone else asking Adeline out. “Who’s intimidated by you?” I ask, managing to keep my tone aloof.
She smacks me.
Without my permission, my eyes dip down, taking in her body again. “It’s just because they don’t see you in these short shorts and tank top.”
“Shut up. These are my pajamas.”
I laugh. “What’s the excuse for the socks?”
She shoves me again and I fall over onto our snacks. As I go down, I snag her hand. “Stop being so violent. All I’m saying is I don’t think anyone would remember that you play hockey if they saw you right now.”
She stares down at me. “I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”
I’m not sure either. Would she appreciate the idea that I’ll probably be using the image of her in this exact outfit many a night going forward? Probably not.
I shrug it off and sit up, snagging my iPod. Head down, definitely not looking at her again, I find the playlist I want. Then I connect it to the little speaker in my pocket, and we’ve got music.
“It’s so weird that you have one of those,” she teases, folding her legs into a pretzel shape.
I pluck one of the bags of chips off the mattress and pull it open, then hold it out to her.
“It’s my dad’s,” I tell her. “Well, actually…” I can’t help but smile. “It was my mom’s, but my dad stole it.”
Shifting, Adeline exhales loudly through her nose. “What?”
“She used to listen to it on the train from Providence to Boston. She mostly did it so she could ignore my dad, who was trying really hard to get her to go out with him.”
“Really?” She breaks into a big smile, the expression sending a warm rush through me.
“Yup. And since he’s never been one to play fair, he hacked into her iTunes account and wiped out her playlist.”
Her mouth drops open and she lets out a breath. “Shut up.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, my dad was down bad.”
“God, I can’t imagine what that would be like. To have someone try so hard to get your attention.” Her eyes widen in this dreamy way for a second, though she quickly catches herself and sits straighter. “I’m sure you’ve had women do crazier things to get your attention.”
I laugh. “Nah, my dad was definitely the craziest. Anyway, he would add a song a day. And then you know how they were separated for a long time—”
She nods.
“He kept adding songs. She had no clue. And when he proposed, there was a ridiculous number of them. Like thousands. One for every day since he first met her.”
Her jaw drops. “Even when they were apart?”
“Yup.”
“Wow. That’s quite the story. Your mom was in Paris when they were separated, right?”
“Yeah, for some of the time. She loved it so much that they moved there about the time I was born.”
“Oh god, I can’t imagine moving to another country and not knowing the language.”
“My dad learned it so he could flirt with my mom.”
Head tipped back, she lets out a loud laugh. “Your dad has some major game. And he doesn’t even need it.”
This time I’m the one gaping. “Are you saying you think my dad is hot?”
“Yes. And everyone within a one-hundred-mile radius of your father would agree.”
I scowl.
She rolls her eyes. “Like you didn’t benefit from that. You look just like him.”
“You trying to tell me you think I’m hot, Angles?”
There’s that eye roll again. My dick twitches. Fuck.
“Do you know any French?”
As if by divine design, “Yellow” by Coldplay starts.
I hold out a hand. “Tradition in my house is that when this song comes on, everyone stops what they’re doing and dances.”
She stares at my outstretched hand, lips tugged down.
With a huff, I snag her wrist and yank her up. She falls into my chest, laughing, then wraps her arms around my neck. “Smooth, JJ, so very smooth.”
As I settle my hands on her hips, I struggle to catch my breath. When she’s this close, I lose even the ability to breathe.
We move, and her tank top rides up a fraction, my thumb burning at the feel of her skin beneath it.
Eyes locked with hers, I say, “I’m not smooth, Adeline.
” Though I say it in French. “Not with you,” I continue, thankful she doesn’t understand.
“I look at you and think fuck it, I should kiss you. But then I remember that I’m scared to death of losing you. ”
“What does that mean?” she murmurs, her face tipped up.
“You were leaning too far to the left in the goal today,” I say calmly. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna take the top spot this week.”
She scoffs, but she’s smiling. “God, it sounded more like a declaration of love than you being an asshole.” She shakes her head, eyes shining. “I should have known.” Sighing, she settles her head against my chest. “Your parents’ love story is really beautiful.”
The warmth of her steals my breath once again. Resting my cheek against her head, I close my eyes and wish I had the balls to tell her she’s the most beautiful thing in the world.
Instead, I mumble, “Thanks, Angles.”