22. Rosie
22
ROSIE
After the way the last game went, I’m not exactly keen to attend another.
But when Daire pulled the puppy dog eyes on me and asked me to come, I was a goner. It’s the team’s last game before winter break. They’ve been playing well. Amazingly, really. They have a chance to make it all the way to the Frozen Four if they keep this up. It’d be an incredible way to end Daire’s senior year as well as his hockey career, since he doesn’t plan to continue beyond college.
Once I’m finished with my makeup, I fix my hair into a braid.
Bertie was apprehensive when I asked her—and she’s been tight-lipped about whatever is going on with her and Luke—but I didn’t give her an opportunity to say no. Besides, I don’t think she’d let me face those catty girls alone.
My phone buzzes on the bathroom counter. I cringe, hoping Bertie isn’t backing out after all, but the message is from Daire.
Daire: You were still in your bathroom when I left. I put a gift for you on your bed. Wear it tonight.
I frown at the text message.
Wear it?
I crack my bathroom door open and venture into the bedroom. Sure enough, there’s a hastily wrapped box on the mattress. I can’t help but smile at the thought of Daire wrapping this up himself.
Quickly, I tear into the paper and lift the lid. Inside, I find a jersey.
It’s blue and orange, our school’s colors, with Aldridge Hockey on the front along with an angry-looking wolf.
A giddy sensation hits me when I turn it around and find Daire’s jersey number, six, on it.
I expect the area above the number to be blank—or at the most, to say Hendricks.
But no, this is Daire. He doesn’t do anything half-assed.
Mrs. Hendricks has been added to the top.
I trace my finger over the outline of Mrs.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry. You’ll ruin your makeup!
It’s hard not to break down at the thoughtfulness of the gift. It’s custom, which means he had to have put the order in soon after that disastrous game, before we ever truly made up for the past. Before… Heat floods my body at the memory of what happened on the couch last week. Nothing remotely close has happened since. He hasn’t even kissed me.
It hasn’t been awkward, though.
I’m terrified to make a move, to show how much I actually want him. And by the way he watches me, so thoughtful and with what I swear is longing, I think he feels the same.
The changes are mind-boggling. Only a few months ago, I hated Daire with every part of my being. Now? I very well could be falling in love with him all over again.
I lay the shirt down on the bed, and as I pick up the box to throw it away, I find a note inside.
In case anyone ever doubts you’re mine.
-Daire
Feeling like I’m floating along on a high, I stick the note in my nightstand drawer, then force myself to finish getting ready. The last thing I do is put the jersey on.
I don’t bother texting Daire back. He’s busy getting ready for the game. I’d rather thank him in person anyway. Preferably with my mouth in certain places he didn’t allow me to explore last time.
I stuff my wallet with my ID into my pocket and shoot a text to Bertie to let her know I’m on my way.
Turning up the music in the car, I head toward campus, and by the time I pull up outside the dorm, I’ve already had a full dance party.
“Your bass is shaking. I thought it was an earthquake.” Bertie has to yell to be heard over the music. She reaches over and turns it down. “Are you trying—what are you wearing?” She gapes at my jersey.
I grin, wiggling in my seat. “You haven’t even seen the best part yet.”
“Show me!”
I pull away from the curb and head toward the arena. “You’ll see it when I get out.”
“Fine.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Make me wait.”
“So,” I drawl, “what’s up with you and Luke?”
Traffic is at a crawl as we approach the arena. We should’ve gotten here sooner. If the dorm wasn’t five miles from the arena, I would’ve parked there and walked.
She picks at a loose thread on her jeans. “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” I repeat, side-eyeing her.
“He’s sweet.”
“And hot,” I point out. “A lethal combination.”
“He’s great in a lot of ways.” She looks down at her lap. “But I dated Tommy for a long time. Don’t get me wrong, I’m over him, but I’m not sure I’m ready to date. I would be okay with it just being a hookup sort of thing, but he said he’s not interested in only doing the casual thing.”
“Oh … wow.”
“I know,” she laughs. “A hot hockey guy who wants a relationship? A rarity. But I just… I don’t think I can be what he wants.”
The car in front of me moves a smidge, and I crawl along with it.
“From the way he looks at you, it’s obvious you’re already everything he wants. But I love and respect you, so if you’re not ready to date, I won’t pressure you about it.”
“I just…” She studies the pale pink polish on her nails. “I don’t know what I want. But he’s a good guy, and I refuse to string him along.”
I reach over and take her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
It hurts to see my best friend so lost. Even though she knows ending her relationship with Tommy was the right thing, she’s still mourning the loss of a years’ long relationship.
It doesn’t help that I moved out right after everything went down.
“Why don’t you come over tomorrow, and we’ll order pizza and watch a movie or something?”
Bertie will be heading home for winter break soon, so I won’t see her until January.
“Are you sure you’re not too busy?”
“For you?” I scoff. “Never.”
Traffic continues to move at a snail’s pace. I have reserved seats, so we’ll be fine, but I prefer to be settled in before the pregame activities start.
Eventually I’m directed to turn and end up parking what feels like a mile from the entrance. At least I wore sneakers.
Bertie and I hustle inside, and I head to the bathroom to pee while she gets snacks.
There’s already a line for the bathroom, but since I started my period yesterday, I have no choice but to wait.
When I finally exit the restroom, Bertie is leaning against the wall nearby with an order of nachos and two soft drinks.
“Let me take those.” I reach for the drinks.
She gladly hands them over, then we start for the stairs that lead down into the arena.
“Rosie!”
At the sound of Bertie’s high-pitched shriek, I jump and spin around. “What?”
“Your jersey says Mrs. Hendricks.”
My stomach dips. “Oh. That.”
“Yes, that!” She clutches my arm so violently I’m lucky I don’t drop the drink I’m holding in that hand. “I didn’t realize this was the best part.”
My cheeks heat, and a smile splits my face unbidden. “He said he didn’t want anyone to doubt I’m his.”
I’m still swooning over that note.
“Wait,” she leans in close and lowers her voice, “does this mean things are getting real?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug, biting my lip as my heart thumps hard against my breastbone. “But I think so.”
The scream that flies out of her has the people nearby turning to look at us.
“We’re fine.” I wave. “She thought she saw a spider.”
Most everyone returns to their own business, though several girls in a group nearby look around in pure panic at the thought of a spider.
“We need to get to our seats. I don’t want to miss anything.”
Ironic, since I didn’t even plan to attend until Daire asked me to and provided me with the two tickets.
When we’re finally in our seats, Bertie starts in again. I’d expect nothing less from her.
“He put his name on you. With Mrs.”
“We are married.” I take a sip of my soda and survey the ice without really paying attention.
She swats at me. “You know what I mean.”
I can feel the glares from the girls around us, but I do my best to ignore them and whatever venom they might spew.
Stealing a nacho from Bertie’s order, I pop it into my mouth.
With a glower, she pulls the tray into her chest. “Mine.”
I smile back. “You know you don’t mind sharing with me.”
“Only when I’m not hangry. I skipped lunch.”
“Bertie,” I scold lightly. “Why didn’t you eat?”
She shrugs, pinching the cheesiest nacho chip she can find between her fingers. “I was busy and forgot.”
Growing up with a mother who constantly skipped meals and claimed to forget means my first instinct is to question whether she’s being honest.
But by the way Bertie goes to town on her nachos, I believe her when she says she forgot, so I keep my mouth shut.
I need to talk to her about coming with me to try on dresses. There’s no way I want to endure what my mother might say without some sort of backup. But this isn’t the place to talk about it, not with potential eavesdroppers around us.
As the game begins, Bertie holds out a chip. “You can have one more.”
I laugh, taking it from her. “Thanks.”
As I’m chomping on the chip, Daire skates by and stops, ice spraying up around him. He taps the plexiglass with his stick, as if I don’t see him already. He waves, and some of the girls around me giggle like he’s waving at them. He frowns as he scans the bleachers around me, then points directly at me and makes a heart shape with his hands.
I try, and fail, not to smile. He taps the glass with his finger, waiting for…
I roll my eyes and make a heart hand back at him.
Cree skates up to him then, clapping him on the shoulder and pulling him away.
Bertie leans over, finding my ear. “Either he’s got it bad for you, or he really doesn’t want these bitches talking about you.”
“He doesn’t want them talking shit about me.”
“Yeah, probably,” she agrees, wiping her fingers on a wad of napkins, “but I still think he likes you.”
Despite my best efforts, hope, the most dangerous feeling of all, springs up inside my chest.