He doesn’t say anything, but he skates over, coming to an abrupt halt the way I just did, covering my shins with ice.
“What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.” I shrug. “I’ve just got this project and?—”
“No.” He cuts me off. “You’ve been off since you showed up.”
Two hours ago.Between my regular practice ending late last night, and being up at six a.m. to get here, I’m not used to this new schedule.
“I’m just a little tired, I guess.”
“Or a little weak?”
I take a deep breath, getting air into my lungs for the first time in what feels like hours. I steady my breathing, attempting to combat whatever insane speech I know he’s about to give me.
He stands only a foot away, and his face is as controlled ashis voice when he speaks. “This is it, Noah. This is your year, and you need to sign a fucking contract—otherwise, all of this was for nothing.” His stoic expression is cold and unmoving. “Do you want to waste everything we’ve built together?”
I’ve learned over the years that not everything he says is true, but he has his reasons for saying them. I’m older now, and better able to sift through the truth and the bullshit. The truth is that a team can draft you and hold you for a certain amount of time. The discussion with Toronto regarding my terms specified that once I finished school, I would sign with them. For the Toronto Titans, it was another two years where I could practice my skills, and for me, it meant I got to finish my degree. I know my dad has had it in his head that if I’m better, if I catch their attention in a way they can’t refuse, they would have no choice but to sign me early. He wants me signed and playing next year, and I don’t bother telling him that I’m perfectly happy with the way things are laid out.
“Do you want to waste everything we’ve built together?”
I grit my teeth, and his eyes narrow at me. He’s tough as shit, but I know he’s not a bad guy. I know that, deep down, he just wants the best for me. He wants me to have everything I’ve worked for and everything that he’s lost. This entire thing—practices, training, junior leagues, college hockey, the draft, and the NHL—all of it, has been the one thing we’ve dreamed of since I was in diapers. As far back as I can remember, this has been our goal. Together. If I fail, I’m not only failing myself—I’m failing him, too.
Coach might not understand him—I don’t think anyone really does— he might be a little intense, but I know it’s all out of love.
“No.”
His jaw ticks once and he nods. “Then go again.”
He turns around heading back to the sides and I grip my stick harder than necessary before taking off down the ice.
10
savannah
When debatingwhere to work on our project, Noah suggested his house, to which I replied‘Over my dead body’.The Denseemed like the best place, but Noah insisted it would be too busy—and after watching the women fall all over him at the diner and every guy attempt to high-five him on our way out, I can see that what he really meant was it would be too distracting. We eventually settled on my apartment, which, in hindsight, I guess worked out—considering he’s now forty minutes late. I check the time on my phone once more before tossing it on the coffee table and sinking back into the couch with a deep sigh.
“Have fun on your date,” Chloe chirps as she slips her arms into her coat, fanning her long, blonde hair over the collar.
“Oops. You left your jokes in the trash. Don’t forget to grab them and take them with you on your way out.”
Her little giggle lingers as she opens the door, revealing Noah on the other side with his fist in the air ready to knock.
“The Beauty is here,” she calls over her shoulder and his smile stretches across his face.
“Very nice, Coop.” He opens his fist into a flat palm andwhat the hell is going on?
She high-fives him and casually shrugs. “I know some stuff.”
She slides past him and gives him a little shove inside before closing the door.
I can’t look away when Noah peels his coat off, revealing a casual grey crewneck. He toes off his vans and pulls his beanie from his head before running one of his large hands through his dark hair, tugging the hat back down. I thought I paced my apartment today because I was nervous about having to answer questions about myself, not because I was worried about keeping my tongue in my mouth. It’s no secret that Noah is attractive—and by attractive, I mean sexy enough to bring even Satan himself to his knees.
With his high cheekbones and the smooth skin along his immaculate cut jawline, he is undeniably handsome. Don’t even get me started on his soul-gripping eyes. Once you look into the endless depths of them, you’re sucked in against your will. They’re not hazel, but rather a soft shade of brown in the center, with an emerald green lining on the outside. They’re the only feature that could pull me away from his perfect lips. When they aren’t wearing that full-fledged grin that makes me have to fight not to smile myself, they’re always still lifted just enough—like he was born smiling. Noah smirks, causing my stomach to flip and I unconsciously squeeze my legs together because that look of his is almost always accompanied by something flirty. I’m like Pavlov’s fucking dog around him.
And then there’s the little silver hoop that hangs in his left ear.
Fuck. Me.
