29. Wearing your boyfriend’s jersey is a big deal.
29
"Wearing your boyfriend’s jersey is a big deal."
Marissa Martin
This is unreal, yet it feels so natural. Walking hand in hand with Aaron, him kissing me out of the blue, his hand casually resting on my thigh. It’s like we went from being friends to a ten-year relationship overnight. Well, in a way, we did. There’s no awkwardness like there often is at the beginning of a relationship, yet all the butterflies and heart-stopping moments are there.
“Are you coming w ith me to the arena?” Aaron asks, grabbing his overnight bag and walking to his room.
I check my phone and see that Beth has replied to my text. “No, Beth is coming tonight, so I’ll walk over with her. I’m going to change and head to the coffee shop.”
I hear him calling out an “okay” from his room, and I smile. How could I not? It’s like fifteen years of pressure has just dissolved. How crazy is it that, if I want, I can go to his room right now, wrap my arms around his neck, and kiss him until we can’t breathe? That’s my life now, and I’ll have to pinch myself a few more times to come to terms with it.
Of course, there’s still a chance things won’t work between us. My heart clenches at the thought, because now that I know what being with Aaron feels like, I never want to go back. But our plan is smart. The last thing I want is to lose both my boyfriend and my best friend. Gosh, Aaron Miles is my boyfriend .
A few arm-pinches later, I put away my bag and get changed and ready for tonight. Wearing Aaron’s jersey feels different, somehow. Like it means something now, and it’s part of the secret between us.
I saunter out of my room, looking for the coffee shop keys. Aaron is leaning on the kitchen bar, his pupils dilated, his gaze burning through my body.
“What?” I frown, sweeping a h and over my clothes. “Do I have something—”
In a blink, he’s close to me, his addictive cologne wrapping me in a sweet cedarwood bubble. “You’re perfect,” he says, tilting my chin up. “You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of kissing you while you’re wearing my jersey.”
I’m now officially a puddle of mush on the floor. I knew it felt different. Because it is . Wearing your boyfriend’s jersey is a big deal.
He leans forward, capturing my mouth in a kiss that melts me further. Each stroke of his lips heats my skin a little more. He guides me backward until we reach the couch, and his large hands dip to my waist to lift me onto the back of it. I loop my hands around his neck, wanting to feel him close to me. His lips are firm, yet soft. Confident. Kissing Aaron Miles isn’t just a kiss—it’s a tidal wave that sweeps me off my feet.
“My first game as your girlfriend,” I say, my forehead bumping against his as we come up for air. “Well, secret girlfriend.”
He frames my face with both of his hands. “I’m so glad I’ll have you there, as always. I play better when you’re cheering me on.”
“I love watching you play.” I smile, my hand roaming over his neck. “You’ll kick ass tonight.”
He steals another kiss. Then, it turns into more. Whenever we start kissing, we can’t seem to stop. But I guess we have years to make up for.
“We should go,” I say, reluctantly breaking the embrace. “Or you’re definitely going to be late. You already missed practice this morning.”
“Right.” He nods firmly, taking a step back. “Let’s go. I’ll take you to the coffee shop.”
I jump off the couch, fix my makeup—because, you know, Aaron kissed me all over the face—and we go down to the parking garage. On the drive there, he keeps his hand on my thigh, and I’ve never seen him so relaxed. He stops at the end of Warlington Lane and leans over to kiss me goodbye.
Suddenly, I spot pink hair in my peripheral vision and jump back into my seat.
Aaron furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Wha—”
“Hayley,” I breathe out, jerking my head behind him. She’s walking toward us, but I don’t think she noticed us in the car yet. “We’ll have to be careful from now on if we want to keep this a secret.”
He nods, scratching his temple. “That was close. See you later, then?”
His gaze drops to my mouth, then back to my eyes, and he smiles, wetting his lips.
I shake my head, knowing exactly what he was just thinking. Even when he only kisses me with his eyes, Aaron Miles manages to give me butterflies.
Hayley, Beth, and I take our usual seats in the front row by the team bench just as warm-ups are getting underway. The guys skate onto the ice with their usual energy, and the crowd goes wild. People line up behind the glass in hopes of catching a puck or showing off their signs to their favorite players.
The three of us are chatting, not really paying attention to the ice, when the people next to us cheer louder. Aaron is skating toward us. He waves, then winks and glides away. My cheeks are suddenly so hot, you could fry an egg on them.
“What’s up with you?” Hayley asks, frowning. “You’re blushing.”
I cover my cheeks with my hands. “No, I’m not. It’s just cold in here.”
“You’ve been acting weird all afternoon,” Beth chimes in. “What happened at the reunion?”
My heart stutters as images from that night flash before my eyes. “Nothing. Why would you say that?”
“I don’t know. You’ve been different ever since you came back.”
Hayley nods, studying me, and I just shrug. “No, I’m not.”
But they’re right. I am different. I can feel it in my bones.
Beth narrows her gray eyes at me but doesn’t press the issue. This sneaking around thing is going to be harder than I thought. With Aaron and me already being so close, I didn’t think our friends would notice anything amiss, but we’re going to have to be careful. There’s a lot at stake here.
As if to drive home the point, my dad waves at me with a smile. I wave back, then pretend to be absorbed by the riveting warm-ups.
The girls and I decide to go grab some food before puck drop, and we’re back just in time for the national anthem. The puck hits the ice, and the Dallas Cheetahs win the first puck, but not for long. As they’re zooming toward Wilcott’s goal, Aaron appears from nowhere and blocks them.
I grab my phone, double-checking that the girls can’t see the screen. A smile teases my lips. I think it’s time to bring the commentary back on the air.
Marissa
Nice save from my boyfriend
Marissa
That’s one sexy defenseman right there
Marissa
Oh, come on! Penalty box already?
Marissa
If he body checks you like that again, I’ll break him
Marissa
That referee must have poop in his eyes for missing that!
Marissa
You’re incredibly sexy when you backward skate at that speed
Marissa
That’s it! Don’t give him any breathing room! I wouldn’t want to be Number 87 of the Dallas Cheetahs right now!
Marissa
It’s okay. Still plenty of hockey left. You can turn this around
Aaron Mile s
We’re down by two goals, and the pressure is climbing. Faces are hardened, gazes are intense, but there’s also an undercurrent of determination. We hate to lose, especially at home when our families are here. Especially when Marissa is in the front row, watching my every move. I saw her texting during the game, so I know I have some messages waiting for me as we trudge into the locker room.
I usually wait for after the game to read them, but I can’t wait to check my phone to see her commentary. As I scroll through the messages, my body relaxes, and my skin prickles with excitement.
Adler sits next to me, releasing a loud grunt, and I instinctively flip my screen down.
“Ohh,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “What’s going on? Did someone send you some naughty texts?”
“No,” I say, playing with my mouth guard.
“I think someone did.” His lips tilt into an annoying smirk. “Could it be that Miles has a girlfriend?”
“Dude. No, I don’t.” I huff. “It’s intermission. Don’t you have something better to do than harass me?” Stan, the equipment manager hands me a new stick, and I start to tape it.
“No. And I’m pretty sure you do. Have a girlfriend, that is,” he adds. “I can see the gleam in your eyes, man. It’s disturbing. Good for you, though. Who is she?”
“You wouldn’t know her,” I say without taking my eyes off my stick, afraid they’ll betray me.
“Ha.” He points at me. “So there is someone. When can I meet her?”
I sigh, still focused on my task. “You won’t.”
“Why not? I have to see if she’s good enough for my main man.”
“No, you don’t.” I sigh, looking up at him. “You’re not my dad. I don’t need your approval.”
“Right. I forgot I don’t have the title of best bud. That’s reserved for Marissa.”
My heart leaps when he says her name, and I grip my phone harder. “Oh, come on. You’ll meet her, okay? Just not right away. I don’t want to introduce her to my friends before I know where this is going.”
“Fine.”
“Will you two stop arguing like an old couple?” Hawthorne says, hands on his hips. “We have bigger fish to fry.”
“Right. Sorry, Cap.” I grab my bottle and take a swig.
“We got this, okay?” Hawthorn e calls out, clapping his hands as he walks to the middle of the room. “We focus, and we stick with it. And most of all, we don’t give up.”
We all applaud and cheer.
Soon enough, the second period kicks off, and we go back on the ice. We’re firm with the puck, and we put a lot of pressure on Dallas. Unfortunately, they seem to be on steroids. The players are so quick, we’re always behind them, trying to catch up. Our frustration leads to more mistakes on our side, which in turn leads to more penalties and a fatal power play. This is not our night. Beaumont manages to sneak a goal in the third period, but we still lose the game four to one. Dallas was just better than us tonight. They played a great game, and that’s what we tell them when we line up to shake their hands at the end.
Losing sucks. I’m always the angriest player in the locker room after a loss, feeling down in the dumps, ruminating on everything I could have done better. But not tonight. Don’t get me wrong, I’m disappointed in myself. I know I could have done better for the team, but it’s okay. Because I have Marissa to come home to. She’ll support me no matter what, and I know she’ll take some of that disappointment and bitterness away.