Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103721 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
But I have bigger things to worry about than my brother and his fucked-up love life. Cameron will be at my home opener, and I play my best hockey when she is around. That should be what I’m worried about—not Ava, Emery, and Quinn.
But what I’m really worried about is how I’m gonna flirt without really flirting so that my ass doesn’t get benched.
Chapter Ten
Cameron
As always, the Bullies’ ice rink is packed. Students are already gathering to try to get in, the suites are full, and most of the seats are taken. Friday nights, now that football is over, are for the hockey boys, and everyone knows this is the place to be. Callie keeps her arm tightly hooked through mine, and I wish Evan were here. No one really talks to me when he is around. He’s a big dude, and I like that buffer, but he had a conference for mental health advocates. Callie was going to go with him but decided to come with me. Thankfully.
As I walk through the rink to find my seat, I feel eyes on me, and they aren’t shy about the fact that they’re watching me. Not that I expect anything else. Soon, the catcalls are in abundance.
“Cameron, I’m better than that dude. Wear my shirt.”
“Baby girl, I’m the one you want.”
“If he can’t give you what you want, holler at me.”
“Cameron, don’t waste your time on that dude. Come home with me.”
Callie groans beside me, her arm tightening in mine. “It’s so annoying the way people are acting.”
I nod in agreement, but even I can’t be bothered by the catcalls. The air is electric with excitement for the home opener, but the excitement that flows through me is beyond compare. Benson was right; this is going to work. As I smile and wave, but also ignore the creepers, I have a hard time controlling the giddiness that spreads through my chest, because on seat 61 is a black-and-teal jersey with the number 61 on it and Jeannot printed above the number.
I swallow, trying to fight back my grin and ignoring Callie’s gaze. But when I see the bouquet of black roses, I have no control over my lips as they curve into a huge grin. I love black roses; they’re my favorite, and I can’t believe he remembered that. I reach for them, and I’m aware Callie is watching me, a knowing grin on her own lips as I discover a teal Post-it that is stuck to the teal paper around the roses.
Enjoy the game. Yours, #61.
I’m unsure if it’s the Yours or the black roses that has me fighting for my next breath, but one thing is for sure—Benson was absolutely right when he said he was unscriptable.
Fuck me.
This is a business transaction.
He’s showing out like I knew he would.
I gotta keep reminding myself of that. I gotta keep that wall up.
Before it crumbles and exposes my feeble heart.
Callie clears her throat, but I ignore her as I reach for the jersey, setting the roses down to put it on. It’s huge, going to midthigh and hanging off me like a robe, but I don’t care. I love it. I take my phone out of my back pocket and hand it to Callie. “Take some photos, please?”
“Sure,” she agrees as she takes it, trying to meet my gaze. “So, we’re ignoring the smitten little look on your face, right?”
I reach for the flowers, ignoring her prying gaze. “Take a few, please.”
I’m met with laughter as I pose in different ways, smelling the roses, leaning against the glass, making a heart, and then pointing to the back of the jersey as I look over my shoulder. When I’m done, I sit down just as she does, handing me back my phone. I take it, and together, we look over the photos. I’m pleased with all of it.
“You’re so beautiful, Cameron,” Callie says, leaning into me and pressing her chin into my shoulder. “He was right. You look great in his jersey.”
I have to fight the grin that wants to appear. I clear my throat as I post the photo with a caption on the BullieBoards real fast.
@BensonJeannot61
You’re right. I do look good in your jersey.
Fingers crossed for that hat trick.
Good luck, Cameron
“Cute,” Callie comments, and to my surprise, Benson responds.
“Shouldn’t he be getting ready?” I ask more to myself than to her as I click on his reply.
@CameronWhite1
Honestly, I may have been confident in the fact that I knew you’d look good in my jersey, but nothing could have prepared me for that photo.
I don’t need luck when you’re here.
Yours, #61
“Lordy me, he’s laying it on thick, isn’t he?” Callie says, shaking her head, and I giggle, much to my surprise.
“He’s a showboat.”
“Sure,” she says, but she doesn’t seem to believe her own response. I do, though. Benson is, and has always been, over the top. Before I can elaborate on what I feel is the truth, the rink loses its freaking mind when the jumbotron shows the guys starting to come out of the locker room for warm-ups. My heart speeds up in my chest as I watch the guys hit the ice.