15. There’s Nothing Holding Me Back #2
Coach immediately flags him down, forcing Jase to slap on a less-than-convincing smile as he’s ask about whether or not he’s going to join the team for some “pre-season clinics” in September.
I have no idea what either of them is talking about, but Jase looks about as thrilled by the prospect as he would shoving his fingers into a blender, giving a half- assed noncommittal answer before excusing us when he gets a nonexistent phone call.
Only once we’re down the block and out of sight of the building do I voice what I’ve been noticing for a few weeks now. “Do you not like hockey?”
I expect Jase to be annoyed by my remark, but he appears genuinely curious. “What gives you that impression?”
I nod behind us, only earning me a grin.
“Coach keeps trying to get me to change positions. He wants me to play forward, knowing full well the team will likely name me captain, and I don’t want that.
I like being an enforcer. I get to play how I want, and there isn’t nearly the same kind of pressure on me than if I was captain.
That would take the fun out of it. I just want to enjoy the game. ”
But there’s something he’s not saying, and when I don’t interject, he looks back at me, seeing I’m not buying what he’s selling.
Jase huffs out a breath. “It might also have something to do with the fact that I’d be taking the position away from someone who needs it.”
“What do you mean?”
“A few of the guys on the team are only at Winterborn because they have scholarships, and the only way they’d be able to pay for college is if they can get scouted.
Forwards and goalies are the usually the most sought after, and I’m the last person who needs a scholarship.
All I’d be doing is taking attention away from someone who does. ”
“And the part where you constantly beat the crap out of people?”
He lowers his voice conspiratorially despite no one else being around, as if to divulge a secret. “That’s honestly why I picked the position initially.”
“So, you do have anger issues?” I try to sound playful, but I find myself holding my breath.
I can’t help it. I can’t reconcile the two very different personas I’ve seen from Jase.
At school, he’s the bad boy bruiser. And yet with me, he’s the very definition of a golden retriever. Both of them can’t be real, can they?
“In sixth grade, my dad told me I had to join some kind of team or after-school program, and they actually had a local hockey league where you could play for any of the eight teams they had,” Jase explains.
“When I showed up the first day, I had no clue what teams were good, but I overheard Maxwell Griffin bullying this one kid who had a stutter, so I just picked whatever team would be playing against Max’s that day in practice.
And I chose being an enforcer so I could bodycheck that little shit into the glass. Knocked the wind right out of him.”
“What about Owen Pierce?” I still remember the look on Jase’s face back in March when our gym class was leaving the field house, only to stumble across him straddling someone on the ground, slamming fist after fist into the victim’s face.
There was so much blood, no one in the crowd initially realized it was even Owen.
And Jase’s expression was nothing but a cold, hard mask.
Like he had been hitting a punching bag rather than bashing in Pierce’s nose.
Jase grimaces, but he still doesn’t look sorry about that fact. “You were there for that?”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer, but his gaze drops to the sidewalk nevertheless.
“Pierce was being a dick, to someone who didn’t deserve it.” When I don’t say anything, he dares to look up, only to find me smiling. “What?”
“You’re a complete and total marshmallow.”
“Again, what ?” The way Jase is staring at me, you’d think I told him his face looks like a foot.
This just makes me laugh. “It’s not like it’s a bad thing. Girls love a cinnamon roll.”
He tries to act offended, but it doesn’t work. “I’m not a cinnamon roll or a marshmallow. I’m Batman.” He even tries to mimic the deep, gravely voice, making me nearly choke on my drink.
“Sorry, but you are officially the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man. Albeit, a roasted one. Tough on the outside, with a totally squishy middle.”
“Yes, because that’s exactly the image I want to project in town. Jase Rivers, the big ole teddy bear. I’m sure my opponents will be shivering in their skates.” He ruffles a hand over the top of my hair, thoroughly messing it up.
I shove his hand away. “Don’t worry. Your secret identity as a softie will go to my grave,” I assure, gesturing to make the sign of the cross over my chest...though, I don’t think I do it correctly. Is left to right or right to left?
The laughter provides us with a distraction from the fact that we’re practically melting out here, but it can’t go ignored entirely, even with the refreshments.
Seriously, is this what Hell feels like?
The air grows so humid that every breath is suffocating, like it’s ricochetting back onto my face.
Both of our houses do have electricity, but when Jase suggests going back to mine to hang out, I shoot down the idea a little too fast. “The Stepmonster’s hosting some brunch thing there in about a half hour. What about your place?”
He shakes his head just as quickly. “My dad’s ‘mistress’ is there, and I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to resist punching Clark in the face after last night.”
“Why?”
“The asshole crashed our dinner just to reiterate the point that my parents shouldn’t buy me the car they promised for my sixteenth birthday.”
“Again, why ?”
“My dad told me back when I got my driver’s permit that as long as I met all his requirements, I’d get whatever car I wanted come August. I attended every one of his fundraisers, made Honor Roll, played hockey in the winter, played basketball in the spring, kept my nose clean, and went along with every bullshit stipulation for the past year.
It seemed like a done deal, until Dad brought up the subject last month in front of Clark, and suddenly it was no longer ‘a good idea.’ Apparently, the family needs to keep up the facade of ‘relatability’ to voters, which means no big-ticket items for the foreseeable future.
My mom had been trying to get my dad to reconsider, so of course, Clark had to stomp out any hope I had. ”
“I’m sorry, but has your dad’s manager not seen your house?
Or your parents’ cars? Nothing about your lifestyle screams ‘relatable,’ no offense.
” The property would easily be listed in the millions, and the Lexus currently parked in the driveway likely costs more than what the average voter earns in a year.
Jase smirks. “My sentiments exactly. But when I pointed this out, all I got was a threat that I might not get any car if I keep up the attitude.”
All too quickly, our sodas are empty and ice creams eaten, leaving us with no reprieve from the rising temperatures.
Jase fans himself with his shirt, but it clearly isn’t helping.
The last thing either of us wants is to trudge back to our homes to face the music, but there isn’t really another option, except…
I clamp my lips shut and have to turn away when he asks if I have another suggestion for where we can go, but he’s far too astute.
“Hold the phone there, missy.” Jase laughs, catching my chin. Whatever he sees in my expression when he angles my face back towards him has his eyes narrowing, like a bloodhound picking up a scent. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
Yeah, I’m a terrible actress, so it’s no surprise he sees through my act. If anything, it has him grinning even wider.
“Come on, Birdie. Give up the goods. Otherwise, we’ll be stuck hanging out at the car dealership, listening to people droning on about APR financing.”
I can’t help but laugh as he holds up his hands together like he’s praying.
Well, that and the fact he’s batting his eyelashes like a cartoon character.
Still, I keep my lips pressed together and keep walking.
I only make it about ten feet before Jase is skipping—yes, skipping!
—beside me, his hands still raised in prayer.
The whole thing is so comical that I can’t bring myself to say no. Even before I speak, he senses my forfeit, because he’s out-and-out beaming at me.
“I know somewhere we can go,” I admit.
He only gets as far as throwing his hands in the air before I have to cut off his preemptive celebration.
“It comes with a condition,” I say. “You cannot tell anyone.”
He sees I’m dead serious about this and hooks his little finger with mine. “Pinky swear.”
I roll my eyes, but there’s an earnestness in his expression that has my guard dropping. “Fine.”
Turning on my heels, I begin trekking my way towards the river. The further we go, the more confused he looks. If it were possible, I’m sure his blood would turn cold when he sees the building appear in the distance just off the waterfront.
“Relax,” I laugh. “We’re not going to the country club.”
We go over the bridge and take the hiking trail that runs along the other side of the river. It’s not a short walk, but we’re both relieved by the shade as tree branches dome the path overhead. And we definitely need it because the trail quickly turns into a steep incline.
“So, this is the hiking you were referring to,” Jase chuckles, and the comment nearly has me tripping over my own feet as I turn back around to look at him.
To say the statement came out of nowhere is putting it nicely, because I’ve never mentioned hiking to him, ever.
He sees my confusion, and it invites his laughter to grow. Fishing in his pocket for his cell, he pulls up something and clears his throat, like he’s about to give a speech.
To my horror, Jase begins listing off statistics about me like he’s reading off a resume.
A resume I’ve never submitted anywhere!