Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84114 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
“I don’t want to see my friend hurt because my stupid brother is used to having short-term relationships. What do you think Zach will do when you break his heart? We may not be identical, but I look a lot like you. Don’t you think seeing me will be too hard for him?”
“Oh, so this is actually about you, not your friend. Good to know.”
“Zach’s almost as much of a brother to me as you are. He’s at our house for holidays and special occasions. What will happen when it all blows up in your face?”
The truth is I have no idea.
My goal this year was to focus on hockey. That was my only plan.
Zach definitely doesn’t fit in with that, but it’s not like I’m proposing here. I want to spend time with him. And yeah, maybe kiss him again, but I don’t think that’s a big deal.
Seth’s phone pings, and when he pulls it out to check it, I see Zach’s name lighting up the screen.
I want to look to see if he messaged me too, but I can’t, not in front of Seth.
“And now he’s freaking out,” Seth says.
“Freaking out?” And he messaged Seth, not me?
“Yeah.” He stands and squeezes past me. “I’m gonna go find him.”
I nod and swallow hard.
I stay and watch the rest of the game.
When Vermont scores again in the third period and we’re still at zero, I realize there might not be any coming back from this.
From the game or with Zach.
14
Zach
I wait exactly long enough to give Seth back his jersey and assure him I’ve seen enough before I flee. He seems concerned, which isn’t wholly unexpected, but it’s not like I can tell him what really happened. He’d freak out and try to protect me. And with the greatest respect to Seth, this is one area of my life he doesn’t get a say in.
As soon as I’m back in my room, I lock the door, switch on my desk lamp, and collapse onto my bed. My hands are shaking, and I’ve done everything in my power to prevent myself from reliving the moment with Foster, but now it comes back with a vengeance. My stomach won’t settle, and adrenaline is flooding my veins in a way that makes it difficult to sit still.
It’s all just chemical, I remind myself.
It doesn’t work.
I’m not sure what possessed me to enter that locker room, but seeing the way his deep scowl gave way to surprise and then a soft smile, short-circuited my brain. Before I could control myself, I was on my knees, touching his face, and then …
A burst of nerves surges through me. He kissed me, looking as uncertain as I usually feel, but for the first time in a very long time, I wasn’t uncertain at all.
I bounce back to my feet and start to pace, metaphorically vibrating out of my skin. That happened. That actually happened.
Even if it was all a game like Seth said, even if Foster completely flakes and I never see him again, he kissed me and there’s nothing that can reverse it. My first kiss—mine—was with the hockey king of Colchester U.
I start to laugh, and as the giggles rack my body, I’m vaguely aware that I’m supposed to be doing something with all this emotion. Regulating, controlling …
Emotions are transient.
Emotions are wonderful.
I wrap my arms around my midsection and sink onto the side of the bed, trying my best not to swoon.
A soft knock rattles my door.
Uh-oh. The smile slips from my face and all the good, high-inducing emotions evaporate.
Has the game finished? Is it Seth coming to check on me? Oh no, is it Foster?
Another knock. “Zach?”
Sweet Jesus, it is Foster.
I was content to replay our moment indefinitely, but I don’t actually want to see him. Ever. How on earth does he expect me to face him after what happened? I’m going to be an embarrassing mess.
“I know you’re in there.”
He could be bluffing.
“I heard you laughing.”
Of course he did. Resigned that this is not going to go well, I cross my room and crack open the door.
Big mistake.
Foster is wearing a suit. I’ve never bought into the notion that clothing can make someone more or less appealing—they go on and they come off and … off. I picture Foster’s large hands slowly unbuttoning his shirt …
“Oh no.”
I hurry to slam the door, but Foster’s reflexes are unnatural. His hand slaps against it, right next to my face. Hands that were on me only an hour or so ago. I look back up at him, noticing the bandaged cut over his eyebrow, and oh my god. Does it make him hotter? I think it makes him hotter.
“I-I-I-I …”
“Need to take a breath?”
I do as he suggests, and it helps me reset. “Thank you.”