37. LANE
LANE
I can’t stop thinking about Cora. Her body reacting to my touch. The look on her face when she came. Those perfect little fucking moans.
Me
we on for tomorrow before practice?
Peaches
as long as that works for you
definitely works
what are you doing right now
just got out of the shower
braiding my hair if you must know
i want to know everything
ha whatever you say
i told you
there’s no going back
prepare to be sick of me
believe me
I already know what that feels like
I’m laughing at my phone like an idiot. There is no chill. I have no restraint. Something between us broke and then damn near melted back together.
are you teaching tomorrow morning
don’t act like you don’t have my schedule
actually please tell me you have it
a guy tries to bring a truce in the shape of a coffee one time
hahaha
Picturing Cora laugh while we’re texting lightens the weight in my chest by just a piece. It’s a weight I've carried ever since I was a kid,.. growing heavier every time I felt like no one wanted me. Every time someone told me how worthless I was. How I’d amount to nothing.
do you like teaching that early
seems like a nightmare
I don’t like wasting time
not one for sleeping in
like getting things done
maybe I can get you to slow down
doubtful
^^thinks about penalty box^^
you liked that, didn’t you?
insecure about it?
absolutely not
believe me
i felt how much you liked it
maybe I was faking it?
ha
you won’t be faking it
not sure what good ol’ freddy was up to
but I can promise you that
making promises already?
scare you?
you don’t scare me lane maxwell
not even a little?
not even a tiny bit.
hmmm, maybe you were a little scared with the power going out?
you imagine things, lane maxwell.
oh i’ve imagined plenty…
you’re trouble.
only the fun kind.
debatable.
you didn’t seem to be debating it last time.
bold of you to assume i wasn’t just being polite.
polite doesn’t usually leave marks.
…
plus I'm the one who called you trouble
the first night we met
I remember
I still think you’re more likely to be trouble
tell you what…next time, we can test the theory.
maybe i’ll be the one to surprise you.
now that’s a promise i hope you keep.
We text on and off for the next hour and I feel like I’m a kid with his first crush. Cora has this way of making me want to tell her things, see if she’ll play along. I’m actually afraid of how much I want to let her in.
This is new. Not typical.
I’m used to being a vault. Reinforced locks and hidden keys. But she makes me feel like she’d keep my secrets.
I smile like someone I'd make fun of as I fall asleep.
Fuck. Maybe this is what the turning point feels like? Like all the weird vibes and doubt from pre-season and my first game? They’re barely there, almost like I belong here. The brief moment of stability has my stomach flipping because this isn’t something that typically sticks around for me.
I’m at the rink early, ready to work with Cora for the first time since we got stuck in the rink. Since I made her come in the penalty box. Since I crossed the line with no intention of pulling back. How could I? After having her like that? It’s not an option.
“You’re early,” she remarks, checking her watch.
“Barely.” I skate over, trying to hide the smirk I want to give her. It’s a lie—I’ve been hanging out at the rink in case she showed up to work on something else.
“What are you doing after practice?” I ask. I’ve been wanting to know the answer to all fucking day.
She beams, pulling out her notebook and stopwatch. “I have a paper to start.”
“You don’t teach tomorrow morning,” I say quietly, even though it’s just the two of us at the rink.
Cora puts her hands on her hips, trying to act like she caught me red handed. “Someone is awfully concerned about my schedule.”
“Come to my apartment tonight. You can start your paper there.”
The smirk that slowly pulls at one side of her mouth is enough to make my pulse skip.
“You’re awfully confident, Lane Maxwell” she muses, tilting her head like she’s studying me. Fuck, I love when she uses my full name. “What makes you think I’d get any work done there?”
I clear my throat, try to play it off, but it comes out rougher than I mean. “I’ve got… a desk. A chair. Internet.” I shrug, skating a slow little circle near her feet. “Pretty solid paper-writing setup, if I do say so myself. Plus, I have some of your migraine-safe foods.”
“You do?” She grins as she leans closer to me.
I do. I’ve paid attention to the things she stays away from, or the foods which may be a migraine trigger. She’s obsessed with caffeine but stays away from things with artificial sweeteners; she’ll pick up an apple or banana instead of a citrus fruit.
“Of course I do,” I answer.
Cora raises a brow. “And you’ll just… let me work? No distractions?”
The way she says it is teasing, like she already knows the answer. I shift my stick from one hand to the other, suddenly very aware of how warm my neck feels under my collar.
“I can be very disciplined,” I insist, then add with a crooked grin, “sometimes. Plus, I have some homework to finish, too.”
Her laugh is soft, not the kind that fills the rink, but it still finds its way straight into my chest
“So this is a study session?” she asks with glinting eyes, light blue like the beach in the summer.
“If that’s what gets you through the door,” I confirm. “We’ll call it that.”
Cora shakes her head, like she’s humoring me, but the smile doesn’t fade. “Fine. I’ll come by after practice.”
For a second, I forget to breathe. That low-grade buzz of adrenaline which usually comes with a solid shift on the ice has nothing on this.
“Yeah?” I ask, just to make sure I didn’t mishear. My voice comes out a little too eager, a little too hopeful.
“Yeah,” she answers, almost shy herself. “But I’m bringing my laptop. Paper comes first.”
“Totally,” I agree quickly, like that was the plan all along. “We’ll be… quiet. Productive.”
Her grin sharpens. “You? Quiet?”
I rub a hand across the back of my neck, trying not to grin too widely. “Oh, Peaches. You’re the one who is known to be awfully noisy.” I wink at her.
Cora shakes her head again and flips open her notebook like she’s done talking, but I catch the way the corners of her mouth stay lifted.
And just like that, I’m skating off to my starting spot on the ice like I just scored the winning goal—nervous as hell and grinning like an idiot.