14. Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fourteen
Molly
A knock on my door startled me as I finished messing with my hair. My date with Preston was today, and I was a tangle of nerves, wondering how time had flown by so quickly.
Giving my hair one more pass over with my brush, I steadied my breathing and crossed the room.
“Preston,” I said, laughing as I opened my bedroom door to find him standing in the hallway, freshly showered. “What are you doing?”
“I’m picking you up for our date.” He smirked, leaning against my door.
“I was going to meet you downstairs,” I said, ignoring the hit of his cologne that had seeped into my veins, turning my blood molten.
I was also ignoring how good he looked in his Instigators hoodie. The deep red matched the heat flowing through my body, and he looked like exactly what I wanted to snuggle against as we skated around the ice.
Oh, my gosh. I was being ridiculous. Maybe he sprung for one of those colognes that had pheromones in them?
Or I was just in my head too much. I’d been building up this day for the last week while we worked around practices and games and waited for a free block of time when Preston could take me to the arena privately.
“This is so much better, though.” He said, taking my hand. “I have something for you and this way, I can watch you wear it as you walk down the stairs in front of me.”
He grinned, and my eyes widened. I wanted to yank my hand from his and press my fingers to my cheeks to cool myself off, but I couldn’t let him see how much his words affected me.
That wasn’t something innocent, and it definitely wasn’t something my brother’s best friend should be saying to me.
Worst of all, my body should not have responded the way it did.
“Preston,” I breathed, smacking him and instantly regretting it when my palm hit his firm chest. The sweatshirt was the problem. It was just so soft and cozy, blanketing his hard, warm torso. Anyone would find that irresistible.
“You won’t second guess what the word romance means after you go on a date with me,” he said, his smile extending to his eyes.
He was lit up from the inside, but his words deflated me.
As he dipped down to grab a bag he’d hidden next to my door, I took a deep breath and reminded myself this was a favor he was doing for me.
I was glad for the words that doused me like a bucket of ice water.
It would do me some good to keep the right perspective.
This wasn’t a date.
I was learning about romance.
A casual observer as he guided me through it.
This wasn’t my love story.
He reached into the bag and pulled out a crimson sweatshirt that matched his own.
As he handed it to me, it unfolded, revealing his last name.
I had only worn merch with Lucas’s number on it because he was family, and it had felt weird to do anything else.
I knew how important their numbers were to them.
It was practically cattle branding for a player to put his number on someone they were interested in.
And Preston was inviting me to wear his number?
“I can wear this?” I asked, running my fingers over the smooth letters spelling out Ledger. “It won’t be weird?”
His face twisted. “Why would it be weird?”
“The fans who are trying to get in your pants,” I said, my cheeks turning red even though I wanted to show him I didn’t care.
“If they have a problem with you wearing my sweatshirt, they’re no one I want to know.”
“But it’s your name,” I argued. “Your number. Isn’t that important?”
“Molls, you’re one of my closest friends. I’d be honored to see you in my number.” He helped me get it on, tugging it down once it was over my head, and even though his thumb brushed against my side for a brief second, his words kept me grounded in reality.
We were friends. That was another thing I needed to remember throughout all of this. Feelings only complicated things. If I learned anything from my parents, it was exactly that: feelings didn’t equal love. If they did, my parents would never have treated each other the way they did.
Preston and I were friends. Nothing more.
And friendship, especially with him, was a great thing to have.
He had been there for me so much when I needed him.
This date would be good. A chance to rekindle our friendship and go back to how close we’d been before graduation.
Before Lucas’s relationship put a wedge between us.
“You look good,” he said, beaming as he stepped back to look at me. “Now, let’s go skate. There’s an incredible mac and cheese food cart open today and I’m dying to have you try it.”
The Instigators’ arena was quiet as we walked in. A few staff members waved to us as Preston led me through the nearly empty building.
Skates were waiting on the bench, and I smiled to myself when I saw they were my size. Emmett might have thought skating wasn’t a romantic date idea, but the little touches were where it was at.
Skates in my size, a sweatshirt I couldn’t stop burying my arms in, the promise of mac and cheese when we were done—all those things melded to create the perfect date.
Preston helped me lace up, getting to his knees to tie my skates, and I wasn’t even sure I’d need the sweatshirt if my body put off this much heat the whole time. His closeness was doing things to me, and I wasn’t sure I hated it.
The reminder of him and I just being friends echoed through my mind, but I was also there to learn what being on a date was like, so I pushed those thoughts down and took his outstretched hand.
“I’m a little wobbly,” I said, gripping his arm.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, guiding us onto the ice.
I hadn’t been skating in a long time, and it took me a few tries to glide like I knew what I was doing.
“There,” he crooned. “Nice and easy.”
“Is that The Wallflowers?” I asked, tilting my head as music streamed in over the speakers.
“Remember when we used to listen to it on repeat?” Preston spun me around, catching me confidently in his muscular arms.
He remembered that? I took a deep breath, the cold air stinging my lungs. “Those days when we listened to music for hours on end really helped. You know. With all the stuff going on at home,” I admitted quietly.
“Good.” His eyes searched mine and his face grew serious. My heart was thudding so hard, I was thankful for the layers of sweatshirts between us. Maybe he couldn’t feel what his proximity was doing to me.
The corner of his mouth ticked up, and he leaned closer.
“Dammit, Emmett,” he muttered, spinning to face the other direction.
I put my hand on his arm, and he let me turn him around. “What’s going on?”
“Emmett’s in my head about what makes a date good. I’m new to this, too.” The corner of his mouth ticked up, and he scrunched his nose. “I know everyone thinks I’m some Casanova—” I snorted, and he clutched his heart. “What? You don’t?”
“I think you bring a lot of women home—”
“Not true. I go to their houses sometimes.”
“Ah, well, definitely a gentleman then.”
I was only teasing, but his face fell, and he winced. “I’m no gentleman. My life is so empty. Sure, it’s fun in the moment, but I don’t know—I want more.”
My heart was thundering obscenely loud now.
I thought Preston loved his life. He was always smiling.
Always having fun. And I never saw a flicker of uncertainty from him.
The guy was constantly putting on a show on the ice, winking at fans and collecting numbers.
But as I looked at the man in front of me, it was suddenly clear. It was all an act.
“Don’t look at me like that, Molly,” Preston warned, grabbing my hands and pulling me against him. “We’re still going to have an incredible date.”
“I wasn’t looking at you weird,” I insisted.
“You were pitying me. Don’t pity me. I’m living the life I built—”
“But if it’s not the life you want, you can change it.”
“Heavy topics aren’t good for first dates. Ready to eat? I’m starving.”
I wanted to argue that we had been friends forever. First date topics had to be different when it wasn’t your first time meeting each other. I was sure it would be more than fine to keep the discussion going, but Preston had turned his charming smile back on and I knew it was firmly affixed.
Still, he never let his mask fall. He was so good at hiding what was actually going on that I didn’t know there was anything even going on until now. My stomach twisted at the thought of him struggling through something while I was clueless.
“What sounds better? Ice cream or hot chocolate?” Preston asked as we walked along the dark street, lit only by the moon and strings of lights along the food carts.
The thought of eating ice cream while we walked along the waterfront made me shiver. My belly was delightfully filled with mac and cheese. Did I want to ruin that with ice cream?
“Hot chocolate it is,” Preston said, reading my mind.
Is that why people liked being in relationships? Having someone by my side who was in tune with what I wanted was restoring pieces of my heart I didn’t know had broken.
He laced his fingers with mine and we strolled to a cart that boasted it had the creamiest hot chocolate in the Pacific Northwest.
“Two large cocoas, extra whipped cream,” Preston said, placing our order before guiding me over to the pickup counter with his hand on my lower back.
That was enough to bring tears to my eyes. The comfort. The familiarity. The feeling of being guided and taken care of.
“We have to get you out on the ice more, Molls.”
I grimaced and shoved my hands in my pockets. “Because I was so bad?”
He frowned and tugged my hands free, lacing his fingers through mine. “Because you’re adorable when your cheeks turn pink from the cold.”
“Oh,” I choked out.
He thought I looked adorable? Adorable as in a cute little kid he grew up with? Or adorable as in the sight of me broke his heart a little, just like the sight of him happy and carefree as we skated broke me?
“Two hot cocoas,” the barista called out.
Preston thanked her and grabbed our drinks, handing one to me before holding my free hand.
We walked in silence, licking the whipped cream off our drinks as kids darted by and harried parents trailed after them.
The moonlight glinted across the river, and I sipped my drink. The heat braced me as the friction of Preston’s hand against mine sent shivers up my spine.
“Oh, you’ve got a little right here,” Preston said, sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth as he wiped whipped cream off the side of my lips.
The feel of his hand against mine was nothing compared to the brush of his finger across my lip. I sucked in an embarrassingly sharp breath as he licked the cream off his finger and grinned.
“If we didn’t have Emmett bossing us around, this is where I’d kiss you, Molls. Right at the end of a perfect date.” He pressed his lips to my forehead, his kiss hot against my cold skin.
My lips tingled, like their na?ve selves were consulting with my forehead to imagine what his lips would feel like.
“You’re freezing, Molls. Let’s get you home.” Preston rubbed my arms, and I fought the urge to lean against him.
Today already felt like we had crossed too many boundaries. Invisible lines had been drawn by someone. Who and when? I wasn’t sure. But the lines were there and an aching feeling square in my chest told me we had crossed them.