The dots appear. Then freeze.
Then they start moving again.
Ryan:
You rooting for me, Curls?
A smirk tugs at my lips. I sneak a glance at Aurora, but she doesn’t even notice, too busy scarfing down her chips like they’re her last meal.
Me:
Seeing as my dad’s the coach of the team… yeah.
I hit send, and immediately, the three dots come back. My pulse quickens.
Ryan:
Wasn’t my question.
I asked if you were rooting for me.
Feed my ego, Isabella. I need it right now.
I roll my eyes, but the stupid grin stays on my face. I’m about to type something back when Aurora shifts beside me, giving me a knowing look.
“Is that him?” she asks, a smirk creeping in.
She doesn’t need to clarify whohimis. We both know.
I roll my eyes, refusing to give her the satisfaction. “Eat your chips.”
She chuckles, popping another handful into her mouth as I type out my reply.
Me:
I’m rooting for all the players on the team.
Ryan:
Isabella…
I bite my lip, fingers hovering over the keyboard before finally giving in.
Me:
I’m rooting for you, Ryan.
The second I hit send, my stomach twists with anticipation. The dots bubble on the screen, dancing for what feels like forever before his reply finally comes through.
Ryan:
I’ll make sure to score a goal just for you.
I chuckle, feeling a buzz in my chest, something light and stupid and completely impossible to ignore.
We haven’t really spoken since that night in the bar—since he pinned me against the wall and told me he doesn’t see my brother when he looks at me.
And yet, at practice, he hardly looks at me. Just a quick nod, then back to the ice, like that night never happened.
