Chapter 9
MAC
The family resemblance between Gage and his sister would be slightly less obvious if their hair didn’t match, but the white blond is striking.
Their fingers fly at a rate that renders my very basic ASL skills useless.
“Do you have any idea what they’re saying?” I ask Chase and Brody.
“I’m catching the occasional word, but that’s it,” Chase replies.
“Same,” Brody agrees.
A girl with hair that’s been dyed to look like fire, appears out of nowhere. “She’s pissed that he’s here.”
“But he came to support her,” I explain.
“She thinks he’s being overbearing.” The girl tucks her hair behind her ear, revealing a ladder of piercings that spell FUCK OFF.
“He shows up at her dorm weekly to check up on her. She’s just trying to live her life and like…
no offense, but having her fuckboy brother on the school hockey team is not helping her pave her own way. ”
“Tell me about it,” Brody mutters.
She side-eyes him. “I’m going to intervene before one of them gets a hand cramp.” She stalks over to Gage and his sister, Jade, and joins in on the signing.
“What’s going on over there?” I startle and turn in time to watch Fee’s long, wavy blond hair tumble out of her Tilton toque, wafting her shampoo my way.
Her cheeks are flushed pink, nose the same, cold rolling off her.
She looks gorgeous and I can’t wait to spend the next two hours with my arm around her.
“Gage and his sister are having it out,” I explain.
“Why? Did he sleep with one of her friends or something?” Tally asks.
“Oof, that would suck,” Enid mutters.
“I gotta use the bathroom.” Brody rushes off, ears red.
Enid bites her lips together, and Chase cringes.
Brody messed around with one Enid’s friends back in high school, and now he thinks he can never have Enid, and she apparently thinks the same. No amount of friend encouragement seems to push them together. You can lead a horse to water, but you can’t force them to hydrate.
“It’s more about his reputation,” I explain.
“Ah, fair.” Fee sighs. “My sister being a Terror coach is cool, but also, when she was married to the goalie mid-season, everyone had something to say about it.”
“Whether you want their opinion or not.”
“Mmm. Usually I did not.” Fee smiles, but there’s strain behind it.
I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for Fee. She lost her parents, moved to a new city, and her sister became her guardian and promptly ended up as media fodder.
Gage returns to the group, red-faced.
“Everything okay?” Chase asks.
“Yeah. Everything is fine. Let’s get popcorn and snacks.” He leads the way to the concession stand.
Several girls say hi, so I use it as an excuse to wrap my arm around Fee.
She stuffs her toque and mitts into her bag, then unzips her jacket.
I grin. “You’re wearing my hoodie.”
“Seemed like a good girlfriend thing to do.” She half smiles. “But I can give it back to you. Maybe I should wash it first?”
I shake my head. “Don’t do that. I like it on you.” And I’d rather have it back after she’s worn it, so it smells like her, just like my pillow did after she slept in my bed.
“What are you craving?” I ask as we get closer to the front of the line.
“Huh?” Fee’s eyes go wide and her cheeks flush.
“Snacks,” I clarify.
“Oh, right!”
“What’d you think I meant?”
She shrugs and sucks her bottom lip between her teeth while she peruses the menu. “I’m all about popcorn and Smarties.”
“Do you mix them together?” I ask.
She widens her eyes and grabs my arm. “How did you know?”
“The salty and sweet are where it’s at.” I order a large, buttered popcorn, Smarties, and two sodas, then hand over my bank card.
“I can go halves,” Fee whispers.
I shake my head. “Let me treat you.” It almost feels like a real date.
We have to split up into two rows to accommodate our group. Enid passes out hand wipes for the arms of the chairs, and Tally tosses out mini packs of tissues as we settle in.
“Dude, check it out.” Gage’s head appears between us and he points to the seat in front of me. “Isn’t that from the same artist who posts stuff around campus.”
“Shit. Yeah. I don’t think I have that sticker yet. I wonder if I can peel it off without ruining it.” I pick at the edge with my nail, but it’s trimmed short.
“Do you collect those?” Fee asks softly.
“I started last semester. The artist puts up new stuff every month. I’ve been waiting for the next one to pop up,” I explain.
The lights go down, so I give up on the task and set the popcorn between us, stretching my arm across the back of Fee’s seat. “You cool to snuggle?”
“If I fall asleep, it’s a long way to carry me to bed,” she warns and bites her lip.
“Totally worth it if my pillow smells like your shampoo again.”
“Are you flirting with me?”
“You’re my girlfriend,” I remind her. “I’m supposed to flirt with you, relentlessly, in fact.”
“Is that so?”
“It’s a rule.”
Our gazes lock and neither of us looks away. I can’t stop thinking about what it would feel like to kiss her. But the movie starts, breaking the sudden tension.
Whenever we reach for the popcorn at the same time, our fingers brush. And while my eyes are on the screen, I’m only half paying attention to the movie. The rest of it is focused on Fee. I’m hyperaware of the warmth of her next to me, of the smell of her shampoo and her lotion.
And I keep cycling back to how much I loved seeing her asleep in my bed the other night. But she was gone before I woke up the next morning. I almost wished I’d slept on the floor so I could’ve made her breakfast, but I didn’t want to make things awkward.
She sniffles and fumbles around in her lap, almost tipping the popcorn.
I catch it before it can spill in our laps. “Everything okay?”
“Yup,” she hiccups.
“Fee?” I skim her cheek in the dark and my fingertips come away wet. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
She sucks in a little breath. Her warm palm lands on my chest, then slides up to curve around my neck as she gently pulls me closer. I bend until her soft lips brush my ear. “This movie gets me up in my feels,” she whispers.
“Oh.” It’s an emotional movie, not just about a kid who faces challenges, but also parents who want to protect him.
Which Fee doesn’t have. Yes, she has her sisters and Roman, but she doesn’t have an overprotective mom or dad to champion her.
“Come here.” I push the arm of the chair between us up and shift her legs so they drape over my left one.
“What are you doing?”
“Being a good boyfriend by providing emotional support snuggles.” I hook her feet behind my right calf and tuck her as close as I can without her being fully in my lap. “How’s that?”
“Better.”
I wrap my arm around her, and she moves in closer, forehead pressed against the side of my neck.
“Anytime you want snuggles, I’m your guy.” And I mean it.
“Thanks, Mac, you’re really killing it at the fake-boyfriend thing,” she whispers.
“You make it easy.”
The line between fake and real is blurring. My goal is to erase it completely.