Chapter 32 #2
I scoffed, trying to mask how off-balance I felt with this whole thing. “Why do you even have that?”
He smirked, but it was softer than usual. “I’m an AT student, you know.” He started wrapping the tape around my ankle with careful, practiced movements. “And I actually pay attention when our trainers pack our kits.”
I watched, biting the inside of my cheek.
I'd never seen him like this before—focused, gentle, like taking care of someone was second nature to him.
It reminded me of how he'd been visiting my sister in the hospital, just because he wanted to. Just because he cared. Because she was his friend . I still didn’t know what to make of that, even after all this time.
“Hold still,” he murmured, securing the tape. “There. That should help stabilize it. We should head back down,” he said, straightening up. “You shouldn't be hiking on that.”
“No.” The word was flat. Final. “We're not losing the bet just because of a minor sprain.”
Lively ran a hand through his hair, frustration evident in the gesture. “It's not losing if you're injured—”
“I said no.” I started walking again, more determined than ever. “Those little shits are up to something,” I said, “And I’m going to make sure I find out what the hell it is—”
“—they made a bet on the hike.” Lively said, like he was merely listing things off of a grocery list.
But those words made me freeze and turn to look at him all in the space of a second. “ Excuse me?”
Lively sighed. “Apparently, your teammates think you’ll kill me and bury my body in these woods if we spend more than ten minutes together, so…my teammates made a bet about it.” He explained, and I blinked.
But it all made sense now. How dodgy the girls got. Gina’s weird encouragement. “You can do it. We believe in you.”
“So, yeah,” Lively was saying, “Let’s just go back. It’s not even worth—”
“No.” I said again, cutting him off. “I’m finishing this stupid bet and I’m going to do it with or without you.”
I mean, I understood what he was saying, and it all seemed so damn contrived now, but I just couldn’t ditch the stupid dare.
Making it to the look-out point and going back was going to be the first step of my revenge on all of them for even daring to bet on me, even if it was for something I could totally do.
He caught my arm before I could walk past him, halting me. “God, you're stubborn," he muttered before heaving out a tired sigh. “Fine then,” And without warning, he turned and crouched in front of me. “Get on.”
“What?” I blinked at him in disbelief, the blunt command catching me off guard.
“I'll carry you.” He turned to glance at me over his shoulder, his expression completely serious, all traces of his usual playfulness gone. “If you're not going back, then at least don't make it worse by walking on it.”
“I am not letting you give me a piggyback ride through the woods.” I said, folding my arms. What was he, nuts?
“Either get on, or I'm throwing you over my shoulder,” he warned, and the determined glint in his eyes told me he absolutely would.
Yeah, so he was obviously fucking nuts. But I wasn’t a pushover, either. There was no way I was letting him intimidate me into climbing onto his back. The idea of being pressed against his back like that wasn’t one I was open to, right now. Ain’t no damn way.
“You wouldn't,” I challenged, but the slow smirk that spread across his face said otherwise, a promise and a threat all wrapped in a single expression.
“Try me, Hailstorm.”
I decided to try him. With a harrumph, I went to walk past him, but he shot up from his squat like lightning before I could even take a step and, I kid you not, this man literally hoisted me onto his back like I was a toddler.
For the first few seconds, I was simply too stunned to speak. But that wore off pretty fast. “What are you doing?” The question came out cold but Lively, that bastard, seemed to love the chill.
“Carrying you.” He said simply, like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to be piggybacking me—like we’d always done this…whatever this was.
“Put me down!” I hit him on the shoulder, but that only seemed to make him tighten his grip on my thighs which were now snugly tucked against either side of his body.
Oh, the stakes of that bet were becoming more and more feasible with every second that passed now.
“No.” He was sounding way too confident for someone who I currently had my arms around his neck. Did he think I couldn’t really strangle him? Oh God, this was so embarrassing. If any of our teammates saw us now, I would literally melt into vapor.
But it is kinda comfy… And it was. It really was so comfortable, I felt like I could fall asleep just like this, with my body spooned around his broad back. Shit.
“Tell anyone about this,” I said as we rounded another bend, “and I'll seriously break your face.”
Lively chuckled, as if I’d just made a cutesy statement. “What, about the fall, your ankle, or about me carrying you on my back?”
“All of it. Just... keep it to yourself.”
“Your secret's safe with me, Hailstorm.” He said, and I harrumphed. “You know,” Lively said, pausing to hoist me higher up his back, and I pretended I didn’t notice the way my crotch rubbed against the material of his hoodie, mortification blooming in my chest, “there's nothing wrong with admitting when you need help.”
And I forced myself to focus on the conversation we were having, and not the way my heart was starting to pick up speed as my brain realized just how close my body was to his own. That was definitely not happening.
I snorted. “That's rich, coming from you. Mr. ‘I can play through a concussion’ last season.” I said, referring to the one time, last year, during the preliminaries, when he’d suffered a blunt force trauma on the ice, but had insisted on continuing to play.
I remembered it so well because it was all anybody had talked about on campus for months after the game, marveling at how he’d even managed to carry that match while concussed.
“Yeah, and look how well that turned out.” His voice took on a serious edge. “I missed three games and could barely look at bright lights for a week.”
Yeah, that period must've been hell. Hockey injuries were no joke. Hell, our predecessors lost a Captain from an injury. It was one of my biggest fears playing the sport, but I guessed my hunger for success had more bite.
I didn’t know why I asked the question that came next. Maybe it was because of the way each step he took felt like he was rocking me to sleep, lulling me into a sense of security and relaxation, but I said,
“Why do you volunteer at the hospital, Summers?”