Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
I peel my lids back, my mind taking a few moments to catch up with where I'm at.
Hotel. Away game. Blakely.
The memories hit me in that order, and I stretch out my arms like the empty bed will somehow correct itself and Blakely will be sleeping next to me.
I glance around the room, wondering if I was awoken by her heading to the bathroom, but it's almost pitch black in the hotel and that deep rumbling sound is coming from the bed across from me.
My eyes finally adjust, and I notice Pax laying on his stomach, completely passed out with one arm hanging over the side of the bed as he snores loud enough to wake our entire floor.
I roll on my back, reaching for my phone that’s on the nightstand, and sigh when I see it's three a.m. I shoot Blakely a text, knowing if she's already asleep in her room with Monroe, she'll see it in the morning.
Me: You sneak out in the middle of the night? Should I be worried?
The text is half-teasing and half-truth. Logically I know why she left, but emotionally I'm all over the place about it.
Shock blazes through me as three dots appear as she types.
Blakely: I don't want to lose my job because I'm caught sneaking out of the number one draft pick’s room.
I furrow my brow, but there’s a smile shaping my lips. That's definitely a logical reason to leave me hanging in the middle of the night, not to mention my roommate’s snoring across the room. But still, something tugs at the center of my chest, a question and an answer just out of reach.
Me: Can't have that. Sleep well, damsel.
Blankly: You too, hero.
I can't stop grinning at my phone, so I swipe it closed and roll over to my stomach, tucking a pillow underneath me until I'm comfortable and hope that sleep will claim me again.
But it seems inevitable when all my thoughts revolve around the fact that I'm pretty sure I've fallen for a girl who can't have a future with me.
Because she’s the Bangor Badgers’ skate coach, and I'm one of her favorite students.
CHAPTER 12
BLAKELY
“Have you told him about your dad yet?” Reese asks as she holds up her phone, aiming it down the long entryway into the Badgers’ practice arena.
She holds out her free hand in a fist, capturing smiles and fist bumps from most of the players as they walk in before practice. She's been busting her ass trying to put the Bangor Badgers on the map social media wise, and while she's definitely doing better than the previous person, she hasn't had that one video go viral yet that would change things for her.
“Let's go!” Jonas, one of the rookies, gives her a fist bump and smiles at her upheld phone before skipping off past us more than pumped for practice.
“That's some fun footage,” I say from where I stand next to her. I'm due inside in a few minutes too, but it's much more fun hanging out here with her than just stretching inside my locker room.
“Ignoring the question,” Reese says, flashing me an accusing look.
“I'm not ignoring the question,” I say. “I'm just trying to think of a way to answer it that doesn't make me look like a complete jerk.”
“You could never be a jerk,” she says.
“I beg to differ,” I say, the turmoil I’ve been dealing with for the last month bubbling to the surface and making my stomach turn. “A jerk is someone who hasn't told the whole truth to the person that she’s…spending so much time with.” I struggle over the last part of my explanation, almost calling Lawson my boyfriend even though he’s not.
I mean, it’s been almost two months since we started sleeping together, and it's been one month since we crossed those lines during our first away game. And the time in between has been nothing short of amazing.
Lawson and I work together, hang out together, and sleep together.
If anybody took a closer look at us, they’d totally think we were dating.
But we aren’t.
But it feels like we are.
I let out a soft groan, and Reese gives me a sympathetic pat on the shoulder with her free hand.
She quickly puts it back up in a fist to bump as another rookie walks by, but then straightens as she sees who’s entering the building.
Hesitation ripples over her features, but she can't tear her eyes away from Nash as he saunters down the entryway like he owns the building.
And I can't really blame her. He looks incredible as usual, wearing a pair of Bangor Badgers sweatpants and a white thermal, his long, dirty-blonde hair pulled back in a tie, the scruff along his jaw growing out just enough to look wild.
There's a reason he’s so popular on social media—he looks like a celebrity and with the body his NHL routine gives him, paired with his effortless fun charm, he's definitely somebody that people chase.