Chapter 19 #2
There’s not much to do before it’s time to leave, so I help Seth take stock of some supplies. I don’t miss having to do all this work by myself. I have to admit it has been nice having Cora here. Not just because I can see her, but she’s so smart and amazing at keeping us organized.
Heading to the reception desk, I watch as Cora grabs her bag and coat. “Let me walk you to your car.” Just because she’s parked out front, it doesn’t make it any less dark.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
“You probably will be, but humor me.” I hold the door open for her, heading out into the night.
The lights on her car flash as she unlocks it.
I wait until she’s in and has her seat belt on before I turn away.
She gives me a small wave and backs out.
A horrible grinding noise sounds as soon as she moves, causing her to hit the brakes.
Confusion mars her face, so I hold up my hand and walk around her little sedan.
The back passenger tire is flat. Like, completely flat. Stepping up to look at it, I can see a slash on the side. Someone slashed her fucking tire.
Cora opens the car door and looks back at me. “What is it?”
“The back tire is flat. Must have been the cold.” I shrug. “Do you have a spare?”
“Yeah, in the trunk. I’ll grab it.”
“No, I’ll grab it or have one of the guys get it. You stay put. We’ll take my car.”
She can’t find out someone cut her tire. Who the hell would do that? I look around the parking lot. We aren’t in a terrible part of town, but there aren’t many cars in the lot. Probably some asshole kid.
I know I wanted to ride with her, but not like this. Thanks for not actually listening again, God. Shaking my head, I take my phone out and text Rhett.
Me:
Hey, Cora’s tire is cut. There’s a spare. Can one of you guys switch it?
Rhett:
The fuck you mean, cut?
Me:
Like someone slashed it.
Rhett:
But why?
Me:
I don’t know. I forgot to ask them when they ran off.
Rhett:
No need to be a smartass. I’ll take care of it.
Me:
Thanks, man.
“Okay, Rhett will take care of it. Come on, we’ll take my car.”
Cora grabs her bag and runs back inside to give Rhett her keys. She smiles at him, and they talk for a minute before she comes back out. It’s obvious he didn’t tell her it was slashed because she’s still smiling.
Walking toward the alley between our building and an art studio, I stay silent.
Rhett was right; I love hockey, but getting to spend the evening with Cora is better. I have to be on my best behavior tonight. I want her to see the real me. I want to show her the Atlas she deserves. Prove I’m not just some walking ape with fists and a temper. That I can be soft for her.
Unlocking my car, I walk around to the passenger side door and open it.
A look of surprise crosses her face. “Thanks, Atlas.” She smiles, and it hits me in the gut. It’s nice to see other expressions besides disdain and irritation when she looks at me.
“No problem. You have everything?”
Nodding, she smiles. “Let’s go. It’ll be fun.”
Not replying, I gently close her door and walk around to the driver’s side.
Blowing out a puff of air, I try to school my features.
I’ve got my girl in my car—where she belongs—and we’re headed out for the night.
Just the two of us. I don’t have to share her with anyone else.
Grinning like a fool, I climb into the driver’s seat and latch my seat belt.
Flashing what I hope isn’t a psychotic smile at Cora, I turn the car on and pull out of the parking lot.
It’ll be fun—famous last words.
The hockey rink is just how I like it. It’s ice cold, and the air smells crisp. There’s just something about it. People yell and cheer while guys on blades skate around and occasionally hit each other, just to get a timeout and do it all over again.
I played hockey briefly as a teen but didn’t stick with it. Once I found drawing, I spent more time doing that than anything else. I have a deep appreciation for the sport and what it takes to play. It’s not easy.
After loading up with some overpriced sodas, pretzels, and popcorn, we head for our seats.
Matt’s family must know someone because we’re right behind the glass.
There are a few kids waving at the players, hoping to get pucks.
Cora takes the inside seat, and I hand her the drinks and food to set down.
As I’m standing, a puck falls over the glass, smacking me on the head.
Biting back a curse, I pick it up and see a kid no more than seven standing behind me.
“I think this was meant for you, bud.” A huge smile splits his face, and I watch as he runs back, puck in hand, to who I assume is his dad.
The guy smiles at me and nods like, ‘thanks for not being an asshole and keeping it,’ then goes back to talking to the kid.
Taking my seat and settling in, I feel Cora’s eyes on me. “What?”
“That was really nice. You totally made his night, Atlas.”
Shrugging off her compliment, I say, “Nah. Any person with half a soul wouldn’t have kept it. Besides, I have pucks of my own at home.”
“Why would you have pucks?” She looks confused. “Do you collect them or something?”
Laughing, I explain, “Nah. I used to play when I was younger. Saved a bunch from games over the years we went to and still have some from when I played.”
Cora’s mouth hangs open. “You played hockey? You?”
“I’m going to pretend I’m not offended by your reaction, but yes, I did play hockey.
From the time I was seventeen to twenty or so.
” I think about it. “I got more into drawing and really enjoyed it. I knew I wasn’t going pro, so I was okay with it.
I still occasionally skate with the guys, though,” I explain, sipping on my soda.
“The guys all skate and play?” she asks, surprised.
“Yep. Seth is fast as shit, and Rhett has an amazing shot, but Kash doesn’t like it as much. Too cold for him.” I laugh, remembering all the times Emma made him sit his ass in the bleachers of whatever arena we were playing in while he complained he was going to die of hypothermia.
“Huh. Interesting. I just can’t picture it.”
“Well, picture or not, it’s true.”
Cora jumps when a puck hits the glass. We’re close to the goalie, so it will happen a lot tonight.
“You good?” I laugh.
Scowling, she looks over at me. “Yeah. I just didn’t expect that.”
Chuckling, I focus back on the glass and realize one of the players is standing close by. His eyes shift from Cora to me. She doesn’t notice, but it instantly pisses me off.
I shift closer toward her and lean my mouth near her ear. “So, who are we rooting for?” I ask in a low tone.
She turns her head toward me, and if I moved an inch or two in, I could easily kiss her. The thought comes out of nowhere, but it’s not an unwelcome one. She has a full, pouty bottom lip, and her eyes are so fucking blue, they could easily pass for a shade of ice.
It’s cold in the arena, so she’s still wearing a blue knit cap, but has taken off her coat and is wearing a black pullover. She looks perfect.
When she clears her throat then looks away, it takes a moment for me to place the feeling I get. It’s regret. I don’t usually regret things, but I’m starting to regret the way I’ve behaved since I met her.
Unfamiliar with longing and desire, I’ve alternated between being grumpy and somewhat nice. I’m such an asshole, it’s no wonder she pulls away from me. I need to fix this.
“We’re here to cheer on the Timbers, I guess.” She looks toward the glass, where I notice the player is no longer standing. Good.
My eyes track his movement on the ice, and I see he’s on the team she wants to root for. Great. Rolling my eyes, I settle in.
The first two periods of the game have been pretty intense.
Both teams are sitting at two goals apiece, and there’s only about four minutes left in the game.
Cora and I have had fun talking trash and cheering.
I don’t think I’ve ever smiled so much in my life.
I forgot what it was like to be near the ice.
Maybe I can talk the guys into playing some hockey again.
There’s probably still a dented dryer in Emma’s basement that we used for practice.
The clock is quickly winding down, and everyone is on their feet. The Timbers have the puck, and two of their players are hauling ass down the ice, back toward the net for the other team.
“All they need is one more! You guys got this!” She’s banging on the glass, screaming, and I fucking love it.
Throughout the game, we ate snacks, took turns heckling the refs for bad calls, and talked with people around us.
The guy to my side told me I was lucky to have such a hockey enthused girlfriend.
I didn’t bother correcting him, but the way she eyed me told me she heard him too.
She’s got so much passion in her voice. It makes me think of all the other ways I can make her yell.
We watch as the center slides the puck toward his right wing.
He doesn’t miss a beat, snatches it, and glides it smoothly across the ice.
Right as the final seconds cross the clock, he rips his stick back and shoots the puck.
The goalie puts up his blocker, but it’s too late.
The puck sails to the top left corner of the net, and it’s all over.
Cora is on her feet, screaming and cheering with everyone else in the arena. I couldn’t care less about either team, so I just clap.
“That was such an amazing game!” Cora beams. Her smile stops my heart. She really is something. It’s cold as shit in the rink, but all I feel is warmth spreading through my body.
“Yeah.” I clear my throat. “It was a good game. Exciting,” I add lamely. Can I kiss her yet?
“I know!” She’s practically jumping. “Did you see that pass at the end, and the way he just slung it in like it was nothing? I love it!” she exclaims.