Chapter 8 #2
“I can fall asleep anytime, anywhere. It’s a gift.
” He removes his sunglasses and checks the time.
“I picked up a skating lesson at seven with a player from the junior boys’ team.
Then Mav and I hit the food truck.” He points across the parking lot.
“Mav left about ten minutes ago, which is when I made myself comfortable. I assume I’ve been out for nine of those.
” He pushes to a stand. “How’d practice go? ”
“I said yes to joining the team.”
“Fuck yeah, you did. They’re so excited about you.” He clips my bike to his roof rack while I toss my bag in his trunk.
It’s considerably lighter since I left my pads behind for cleaning. “Thanks for sticking around and driving me home.”
“Totally self-serving since it means I get to hang with you.” He closes the trunk and follows me to the passenger side, opening the door and offering me his hand.
I don’t need the help but take it anyway because I like the contact. Once I’m settled, he rounds the hood and gets in on the driver’s side. We buckle up, and BJ drives toward the exit.
“Why does it feel like I’ve known you for way longer than two days?” I muse.
He looks at me for a moment before he refocuses on the road and turns right out of the parking lot.
“I don’t know, but I feel the same way. We run on the same frequency, maybe?
Like, even though I was shitting my pants because I almost hit you, the moment our eyes met I felt this…
need to know you. Makes me think of Shakespeare and the humors and laser beams shooting out of our eyes. ”
“You lost me at humors and laser beams.”
“Back in high school, I had this teacher who talked about the four humors and how people were connected. Like, you look at someone, and they look at you, and bam—the world aligns. Mostly I thought it was hilarious, hokey shit that only made sense in books, but now… I think I know what she meant.”
We pass through town and head for the road that leads to the cottages and homes that dot the lake. “It’s easy to forget myself with you,” I tell him.
“Is that good or bad?”
“Both maybe, but leaning strongly toward good.”
“What would make it bad?”
“It’s easy to turn me into a project.”
He taps the steering wheel, contemplating maybe. “Is that what you’re used to? Being someone’s project?”
“It’s something I strive to avoid.”
“Makes sense. I wouldn’t want to be anyone’s project either.
I hope you don’t mind blatant honesty, but from the moment you gave me shit and called me an asshole—which I admittedly was when I almost took you out with my steel baby—my main goal has been to find ways to hang out with you.
Getting on the ice together seemed like a natural way to make that happen.
Hooking you up with the Hockey Academy means you’ll be at the arena a lot, and that will make it exceedingly easy to run into you. ”
“Do you take anything seriously?”
“I reserve my seriousness for skate practice and school. The rest of life needs a good dose of who gives a fuck.”
I’m disappointed when we reach the T-intersection, but instead of pulling over, he turns down the road. “You should stop here.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t stop in front of your place.”
My anxiety makes my throat tight as we pass my driveway. “What are you doing?”
“This road is a dead end. Only people who live down here pass your driveway, and if your dad is coming or going, he won’t see me from up the road.
” He passes the Kingstons’ and the Winslows’ and starts back toward my place, but stops at the bottom of the hill so we’re still out of sight. Then he cuts the engine and his lights.
“Can I finish my story now?” At my questioning look, he smiles and taps his temple. “About how that whole almost-kiss was supposed to unravel.”
“Right.” I hide my smile behind my fingertips. “I can’t believe I forgot about that.”
His hand goes to his chest. “Ow. That’s all I’ve been able to think about since it almost happened, and you’re telling me you didn’t think about it once?”
“That’s not what I said. And the whole emotional-boner part is pretty unforgettable.”
He cringes. “Not my best invented phrase, although it is accurate.”
God, I like him. Probably too much for my own good, and far too quickly. “Are you gonna tell me the story now or what?”
“Do you remember where I left off?”
“We were going to have fun on the ice, and every time I smiled you’d get an emotional boner.” I shift in my seat. The sun has dipped below the trees and shadows dance across his face.
“And that happened, which was awesome. I must be psychic or something.” He stretches his arm along the back of my seat, hand close to my shoulder but not touching.
“We’d share those fritters, which also happened.
And I kind of love how you savor everything, and you make these little contented noises when you’re eating something you enjoy. ”
“I do not make noises when I eat!” My ears and cheeks heat.
“You totally do, and it’s fucking adorable.
Anyway, as I was saying, we’d eat fritters and have that ice cream date I was hoping for.
Except I didn’t plan for it to be in the staff room, which is incredibly lacking in romance and ambiance.
Although it meant we could heat up the fritters, and they’re way better warm with ice cream. ”
“You’re making me hungry again.”
“Sorry, I’m meandering. I’ll get back on track.
So I’d convince you to go to that practice, which you did, and I’d wait for you, which I did.
” He runs the hand that isn’t slung over the back of my seat over his thigh, like maybe he’s nervous.
“And then I’d drive you home, but I’d park far enough away that you wouldn’t worry about getting caught with the tattooed bad boy from the other side of the lake—as an aside, I’m not a bad boy at all, and most of the time I’m in bed by eleven at the latest.”
“How much longer is this story?”
“Not much. I’m getting to the climax. I promise.”
When I don’t say anything, he takes it as his cue to continue. I consider shoving my tongue in his mouth to hurry things along.
“So, we’d end up here.” He motions to our surroundings. “And then I’d ask if you’re still interested in skating with me tomorrow afternoon.”
I hold up a hand. “I have a question.”
“Do you not wanna wait for the end of the story before you ask it?”
“Actually, it’s not a question.”
“I see. And it can’t wait until I’m done with the story?”
“This story better end with one hell of an amazing kiss.”
“Are you saying you want me to kiss you?”
“Well, yeah, obviously. Otherwise I wouldn’t still be sitting here listening to this endless fucking story. I’m over here waiting for something to happen, and you just keep talking and talking and talking.”
“It’s a slow burn.” He runs his hand over his thigh again.
“Are you nervous? Because if that’s the issue, I can help.” I grab the front of his shirt and pull him forward. This would be fine if he wasn’t wearing a seat belt and I hadn’t yanked him aggressively, causing the belt to do its job and prevent him from getting more than six inches from his seat.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake.” I jam the release on my own seat belt and reach across to do the same for him. Once we’re no longer at the mercy of restraints, I mash my lips against his.
He has the audacity to smile. “My version had a little more finesse.”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
He cups my face in his hands and pulls back, his expression suddenly serious. “Did you not like my story?”
“You are killing me, BJ. Put me out of my misery and kiss me. Please.”
“How can I say no when you’re being so polite?” He angles his head and brushes his lips over mine. Soft. Sweet. His tongue flicks out, skimming my top lip.
I lean in, glad the center console isn’t an impediment.
I tug the spiral tie out of his hair so it’s loose and run my fingers through the gloriously satiny strands.
He has great hair. I angle my head and part my lips, tongue pushing past his.
That soft sweetness lasts for all of three seconds.
BJ groans, the sound making all my hot spots light right the hell up.
Then he does this twirl thing with his tongue that curls my toes.
And suddenly it’s a battle. I can’t get close enough, can’t get enough of the feel of his velvet tongue tangling with mine, or the way he sucks my bottom lip and uses exactly the right amount of teeth.
BJ turns kissing into art, and I can’t wait to find out what other talents he has.
I keep trying to drag him across the seat, but there isn’t room.
I abandon his hair and run my hand down his chest. When I find the hem of his shirt, I slide my hand under, meeting warm, bare skin.
Before I can move to shove my hand down the front of his pants, he breaks the kiss and laces our fingers together.
He’s still cupping my cheek with his other hand, and he brushes his thumb along the edge of my jaw. “Fuck, Snowflake, you’re everything I’d hoped you’d be.”
“Why are you stopping then?” My chest heaves, breaths coming fast and shallow. I’m light-headed and worked up.
“I like you,” he says softly.
“Uh, yeah, that kiss told me that.”
He smiles, his tongue sweeping out to wet his bottom lip. “I have a bad habit of rushing into things, and I’d like to try to break it with you.”
“Huh?” I’m so confused.
His grin turns wry. “I want to get to know you before I try to get into your pants.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what to say to that. I’ve spent most of my life avoiding relationships because bringing someone home to meet my family is on par with playing chicken with a guardless circular saw.
But I did have one long-term boyfriend in high school.
He wasn’t the best choice, but high school is mostly about making mistakes and hopefully learning from them.
“Can I pick you up tomorrow?” BJ asks.
“I’ll probably come straight from Boones to the arena,” I say.
“Okay. Can I pick you up from Boones?” His thumb is still sweeping along the edge of my jaw.