Chapter 20
Ellie
I check my phone for the tenth time in a row.
I swear to God, if Jamie is late, I’ll kick his ass.
He assured me he’d be here on time, and he has ten minutes to make sure that happens.
I’d like to get this meeting over and done with so I can focus on the play.
Not only that, but I don’t want to be stuck alone in a room with Jamie longer than I have to.
Just then, the auditorium door opens and Jamie strolls in like he owns the place. He’s all confidence and swagger in his dark jeans and Ellington University hoodie. Damnit, why does he have to look so good? This would be so much easier if he was ugly.
He stops in front of my desk, a smirk on his lips.
“I’m on time,” he states as he peers down at the watch on his wrist. “With eight minutes to spare.”
“Wow, I’m impressed,” I say mockingly. His smile grows wider.
“You didn’t think I would be, huh?” he asks, his arms crossing over his shoulders like a shield.
I shake my head. “No, honestly, I didn’t.”
“You wound me, Sweetheart,” he acts as if he’s being stabbed in the chest and tumbles a bit.
“That was good. You should join the play,” I deadpan.
“Ha. No thanks, I’d rather take a skate to the leg than get on a stage and perform.”
“It’s not much different than what you do on the ice. You perform for an audience the same way I do,” I tell him. His eyes widen a bit before his arms fall to his sides.
“You think playing hockey and acting on stage are the same? Last time I checked, you don’t have to watch for pucks coming at you at one hundred miles per hour.”
Standing from my seat, I slap my hands on the desk.
“I never said they were the same. I said they weren’t that different. Listening comprehension is important, Jamie.” I know I’m poking the bear, but I don’t care. For some reason, getting a rise out of him is satisfying.
Jamie’s palms land on the desk as we mirror each other.
His narrowed green eyes stare into mine as if this is some sort of stand-off.
As if we were wolves just waiting for the other to attack.
The tension between us is palpable, and I can’t tell if it’s the kind that says we want to kill one another, or if it’s the kind that says we want to kiss one another.
I’d like to think it’s not the latter, but there’s a part of me feels like it is.
“Keep looking at my lips Sweetheart, and I’m gonna think you want to kiss me,” Jamie grins cockily.
I can feel my cheeks heat with embarrassment as I look up from his lips and back to his eyes. I hadn’t even realized I’d been staring at his lips, and I hate that he caught me. I don’t need to inflate his ego even more.
“Let’s just get to work,” I tell him, sitting back down and gesturing for him to take the chair across from me. He sits slowly, never taking his eyes off of me. I feel his gaze as I sort through the paperwork and notes on my desk.
“Right, yeah. Let’s do that.”
Rolling my eyes, I read through some notes I’d taken with my ideas for the event. I decide I’ll start with the easiest thing, a name for the fundraiser. I didn’t exactly know what name would fit this sort of thing, but I think this one stood out the most to me, and I think Jamie will like it.
“Let’s start with a name. I came up with a few, and this is the one I liked the best,” I tell him, flipping the paper so he can read what I’m pointing to.
He stares at the page for far too long before his eyes narrow and he scoffs.
“You’re kidding.”
My head snaps up. “Excuse me?”
“Pucks and Props?” Jamie says, pointing at the paper like it personally offended him. “That’s what you landed on? Really?”
My brow furrows and my fists clench. “It’s catchy,” I say defensively. “And brings together both groups.”
Jamie shakes his head. “Sure, we’ll go with that.”
Leaning back in my chair, I cross my arms. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did you have a suggestion?”
“Yeah,” he says easily. “Literally anything that doesn’t make me sound like an ass when announcing it.”
I chuckle. “Well that eliminates, hmm, everything.
Jamie’s eyes narrow, and he smirks sarcastically.
“That was a good one. I’m offended. Ouch,” he mocks.
I knew this was going to be challenging, us working together.
However, I didn’t expect it to be like this.
There’s just so many unresolved feelings between us, and we’ve both got our own shit going on.
That’s why we need to put our feelings for each other aside and focus on work. Easier said than done, I guess.
“Fine,” Jamie says finally. “Pucks and Props it is.”
A slow grin crosses my face and my brow arches. “That sounded painful.”
“It was,” he says. “I’m going to complain every time I say it.”
My smile is victorious. “I’ll take that as an agreement.”
Jamie leans back in his chair, shaking his head.
“You always did have a way of getting what you want.”
I freeze, the smile fading into a flat line as I take in what he said. He’s talking about the past. About us. Why would he bring that up? He doesn’t have a right to bring up our relationship as if he has fond memories. He’s the one that ruined it.
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” he asks innocently, like he doesn’t know he just shoved a dagger into my heart.
“Try to act like you care about our past. You don’t, and that’s fine. But don’t bring it up like you give a shit.”
His brows furrow and he looks at me inquisitively.
“Ellie, I didn’t m—”
“Do you have any ideas for the event? Like, what we actually want to do?”
Jamie clears his throat and nods. “Yeah, a hockey game.”
“A hockey game. That’s your big idea? A regular hockey game?”
“Not just a regular game. One that offers more.” He stands from his seat and begins to pace back and forth. My stomach twists as I watch him do something I’ve seen him do a million times. This is what he’s always done when he’s thinking. He used to tell me it helps him think better.
Shaking my head, I say, “I don’t understand.”
“What if,” he says slowly, “mid-game, right when people think they know what’s going on…we stop.”
My eyes narrow. “Stop what?”
“The game,” he says as if it’s obvious. “The lights go down. The music hits. Everyone’s silent because they have no clue what’s about to happen.”
“Jamie…” I have no idea where he’s going with this, but the smile on his face screams mischievous.
“Hear me out.” He sits back down and looks me dead in the eyes. A small shiver runs down my spine from how intense it feels. I haven’t seen him smile like this since he got here. He’s been broody and sad for the most part. “We’re in full gear. We’re on the ice, and instead of a play…”
He pauses, watching me.
“…the team performs a choreographed dance,” he finishes with a goofy smile. He’s screwing with me, right? There’s no way this man just offered up his whole team to dance in front of an audience.
I stare at him, unblinking.
“You want the hockey team to dance,” I say flatly.
“On skates,” he adds.
“In front of a crowd.”
“Yes.”
I open my mouth to speak, close it, and then say, “Absolutely not.”
Jamie grins. “I knew you’d say that.”
“This isn’t a joke, Jamie,” I tell him sternly.
“No, it’s not,” he replies. “It’s unexpected. People would lose their minds.”
He’s not wrong. Seeing a bunch of jocks perform a dance routine would be pretty entertaining. The girls would go crazy for it, and the guys would probably find it hilarious.
“Fine,” I say reluctantly, crossing my arms over my chest.
His eyes light up. “Yeah?”
“Only if you join them,” I say, my eyes daring.
Jamie guffaws. “Yeah, okay.”
“I’m serious. You have to participate as their coach. You have to lead them.”
“Ellie, I—”
“That’s the only way I’ll agree to it. Do we have a deal, or not?” I ask, waiting for him to either tell me to get lost or agree to my terms. He lets out a deep sigh, and I know I’ve won.
“Fine, okay. I’ll do it too,” he pouts in defeat. I smile a victorious smile. He rolls his eyes.
“And my drama students will choreograph it.”
“Sounds good to me,” he agrees.
I write everything down in my notes before moving on to the next order of business.
Placing my pen down on the paper, I interlace my fingers on the desk and look across at Jamie who’s watching me intently, like he wants to jump across the table and do something we’ll both regret.
Clearing my throat, I say, “My turn.”
Jamie straightens. “The floor is yours.”
“During intermissions, the drama club performs a scene from our upcoming play.”
He frowns. “A whole scene?”
“Well, a curated one,” I say. “Five minutes each. We don’t want to give too much away.”
“What’s the play about?” he asks, actually seeming curious.
“It’s a sweet story about a woman who travels far from home for a new life and meets a man who changes her perspective. She learns that she doesn’t have to be independent all the time. It’s okay to ask for help and have someone to lean on.”
He watches me, his eyes narrowing as if he’s trying to read me like a book.
“Sounds… thrilling,” he says. “How does it fit exactly?”
“That’s the point,” I tell him. “We’ll perform it mid-ice with a minimal set. My actors and stage crew will get everything ready. The ice becomes part of the environment.”
“And you think people will go for it? It’ll keep them entertained?”
I nod. “Oh, they’ll be entertained. We’ll only do scenes that have humor, or cliffhangers where people can’t wait to see what comes next,” I explain with excitement. This idea might just actually work.
He smiles brightly, and I know I’ve got him.
“And it promotes the play,” he says slowly.
“Yes.”
“And brings in donors who like the arts.”
“Yes.”
“We can even sell tickets at the rink,” he shrugs and I nod.
“Or we could raffle them off!”
“Alright, Sweetheart,” Jamie said. “Seems like we’ve got a plan.”
My eyes narrow at the nickname that keeps making a comeback. “Don’t call me that.”
“Whatever you say, Sweetheart. You know you like it,” he winks.
Looking down at my lap so he can’t see the way my face is absolutely blushing, I reluctantly admit to myself that yes, I think I might enjoy it.
Probably more than I should.