Page 13

“Oh,” I am surprised by this turn of events. “Really?“ I glance at the bus driving away. There’s no option now. Ryan is still standing here, and it’s my turn to help Grey out. If he could get on good terms with Ryan, I know he would take that as a win. I think they used to be friends before Grey went and ruined that. I am secretly trying to help Greyson with his reputation. Now it’s his time to shine. “That’s really sweet, Greyson. Thank you.”

I grab his hand and intertwine my fingers, hoping that Ryan only sees red and doesn’t see how forced this is. “That’s so thoughtful and considerate of you. Was Coach mad?”

He tilts his head to say yes but he doesn’t want to admit it. “It’s alright. He’ll be harder on me in the rink. It’s good for me.”

Ryan clears his throat. “Okay, I’ll let you start your drive back.” He hugs Maddie and says, “I’ll see you this weekend.” He turns to me. “You’re invited but only if my sister is okay with it. Don’t forget what we talked about. I mean it.”

“I know you do,” Grey says.

Ryan gives me one last disappointed look and then he’s off to his truck. I turn to Greyson, unable to break character because I’m afraid my brother will somehow hear it. “Ready?”

Grey nods.

When we settle into my car, I am impressed by how much Greyson fills the passenger seat. “The thing to push the seat back is in the front.” He pulls the wrong lever and the seat springs forward. I laugh as he ducks his head. “Shit,” he mutters.

“Here.” I lean forward between his legs. I don’t realize that I’m pressed against him until he goes flying back and I fall with him. I laugh in reaction, blushing red.

“Are you okay to drive?” Grey asks.

“Yeah. I prefer it actually. I don’t know how good you are at driving.”

“If you change your mind, I will gladly take over. I won’t feel so emasculated too.”

His fingers press against my back, and I freeze. They tickle as he pulls at his jersey that I’m wearing. “Do I have to worry about you digging through my closet, bunny?”

A shiver takes over my body, so I blast the heater and pull out of the parking stall. It’s blasting cold air right now as I drive fast through the parking lot.

“Your brother doesn’t approve,” he mutters once we reach the freeway.

“Nope,” I confirm. “He doesn’t but it’s okay. I’m going to change his mind about you.”

“You are?”

I nod.

“How exactly?”

“Driving with me right now is a good start. Is that why you did it?”

I chuckle. “No. I couldn’t let my girlfriend drive alone. I asked Coach a simple question and got a simple answer. But coach…”

When he trails off, I wonder what he’s going to say.

“Forget it,” he says.

“No,” I laugh. “You cannot do that to me. I’m clearly the best at keeping secrets. All your secrets are safe with me.”

He says, “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Well, what is it?” He hesitates, so I ask, “Are you really not going to tell me now? Is it that bad?”

“Coach said I have to stay away from you.”

“What?” I ask confused. “He said that? Why?”

Greyson shrugs. “Something about you being a Wilder.”

“Yeah.” I smile. “That name has gotten me out of trouble a few times.” I look over at him through the dark car, teasing him. He is trouble after all. I ask, “Are you in trouble because of me?”

“I’m not sure. I’ll find out later.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s my fault for having a reputation.”

“About that,” I raise a brow. “Am I hurting your reputation? Making you seem dateable?”

He laughs, and I hate that it’s dark in here. I think I uncovered a deep part to Grey. He is comfortable at night. When I steal glimpses of him, he’s relaxed in the passenger seat. I enjoy that he’s not so tense. Or maybe it’s because he just had a game and he’s on a winning high. Either way, I like this Greyson Cress. I wouldn’t mind keeping this version of him.

“So, what do you do after a game?” I ask, imagining his after game high ends in sex.

“Do you want to know?” He has sarcasm in his voice, but I’m taking full advantage of these three isolated hours with him. I want to know everything.

“Yes, whatever it is, I would like to know.”

He glances at the jersey I’m wearing again and scratches his face. “First I shower. Then I drink. Then I find someone who wants to sleep with me. I shower again. And on the nights I can’t wind down, I sneak into the auditorium to get back on the ice.”

I smile. “You should buy a house near a lake that freezes over. You know what? Just move to Antarctica. You’ll be unbothered and can skate instead of walk all day.”

He smiles. “Maybe Greenland.”

“Oh,” I jump up. “God, you should move to Canada.”

He talks in a Canadian accent, “Yeah, I’ll fit right in up there, ay.”

“With that good of an accent, they won’t suspect a thing.”

We laugh together, and this is feels nice. This is easy.

He places a finger on the radio and asks, “Do you mind?”

“No, not at all. Be my guest.”

He changes the music until it lands on a song. He takes his phone and tries to connect to it, but the car is moving so it refuses. He turns down the volume, so I say, “My dad used to wind down after a game by turning on the disco ball, pouring a drink, and dancing.”

He laughs. “Sounds like my kind of man.”

“Yeah, he’s hard on the ice. But he’s a good man. He knows how to have a good time. Sometimes he’s intense, and he was strict, but he’s my favorite person.” I’m mentioning my dad to warm him up to the idea of him. If Grey comes to the party this weekend, which I’m now obligated to bring him – thanks Ryan , my dad will be there. And I have no idea how Greyson feels towards my dad, the NHL coach for the Seven Devils. I’d imagine a bit intimidated given that Matt didn’t want to meet him for a few weeks. I ask, “Do you want to meet him?”

He mutters, “Coach Wilder?”

“Or just my dad.” I shrug.

He’s starting to backpedal in his mind, and I can tell because of the complete utter silence. Great, it’s just as awkward for him as it is for me.

I reassure him, “This is all fake, okay, but maybe if I introduce you to him –” I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I don’t want to offend him, but I owe him in some sort of way.

He leans his head over to me. “You know I’m already on a contract right?”

I jump in my seat, swerving the car by accident. Greyson is on contract to play in the NHL? “What!” I gasp. “That’s huge, Greyson!” I awkwardly pat his knee and then hold my hand up to give him a high five. He takes my hand.

“Who are you playing for?”

“The Saints.”

“That’s insane, Greyson! You’re going to play for the Saints! The freaking Saints!? And you didn’t bother to mention it?”

He shrugs. “It never came up.”

“That’s huge, Greyson. Like HUGE!”

He is smiling from ear to ear.

“Congratulations. We should celebrate.”

“Celebrate?”

He’s still smiling when I look over. He probably shouldn’t be though because I’m starting to think differently of him. Yeah, his eyes when he smiles lighten in color. And he has this dimple on the side of his left eye that should be illegal because it’s really cute. His teeth glimmer and he’s stunning when he’s happy. He has one of those smiles that light up the world. Now I know why it’s always gray.

“Yes, celebrate you. I can’t believe my boyfriend is a future Saint hockey player. They’re one of the best in the league.”

“Yeah,” he says quickly, and I think I hear a hint of doubt in his voice. He’s no longer smiling now that my enthusiasm of congratulating him is done.

“Hey, you can live up to that hype, you know? You’re Grey fucking Cress. They’re lucky to have you. Not the other way around.”

He leans his head on the headrest. “Yeah.”

“I’m serious.” I push his knee. “So, how can we celebrate? I can take you out to dinner. I can reserve a party bus for the team.” I imagine a decked out party bus with stripper poles and disco lights. It sounds like it would be really fun actually.

“Please don’t. Something with just us if you insist on celebrating. I don’t think there’s a need to.”

“Of course, we need to. Okay. Do you not celebrate things?

He shakes his head.

“What about your birthday?”

He shakes his head again.

“Well, I do. And I want to celebrate your big win. It’s huge, Grey. I don’t know if we’ll be friends, or even speaking to each other, at that point in life but trust me, it’s worth celebrating with your friends.”

“Just us,” he says.

I nod. “Okay, just us.”

“And keep it between us.”

I nod. “Okay.”

“And,” he begins. “I hope we’re still talking to each other.”

My throat constricts at the sound of his voice saying those words. To bear witness that he’s mentioning anything long-term must mean something, right? Or am I just overthinking it? I will have to chew on this sentence for a while because did we just become friends? Well, no, that’s not possible because he claims men and women can’t be friends. So, does this mean that he likes me? No, that can’t be it because then this would be really awkward right now. Maybe he just likes your company, Maddie. Or should I call myself bunny? What if I start liking him? Shit-cabob. No, this is friendly and innocent. No feelings are starting over here. None. Zero.

“Me too,” I whisper. “So, we still have a long way to go. Do you want to stop at the next stop for some snacks and gas?”

He nods.

When we’re inside the gas station picking snacks, I reach for the starbursts and a chocolate bar. Grey is in the aisle over. I think he’s picking out chips. I watch the top of his head as he walks back and forth. His hair is dark and wavy. I grab the Sour Patch Kids candy for him. I walk to his aisle, browsing what else I want to snack on for the drive. Truthfully this candy will last me ten minutes, and I definitely need chips. He has a bag of Doritos and Cheetos. When he notices me, he says, “I take you for a Cheeto girl.”

I look at the orange bag, and I hate to admit he’s right. “What makes you so sure?” His brow furrows with a hidden smirk on his lips, and my heart flutters. I study his face, my expression dropping. I don’t know what’s happening to me, but suddenly the flutter is deep in my gut. I shift my body weight to my other leg because I’m nervous for some reason. This Greyson – he let his walls down, he hopes that we’re still talking a year from now, and he’s smiling. It feels like my stomach is twisting, begging for this to go back in time and force him on that bus. I do not know this side of Greyson. And I’m not sure how to handle it.

“What? Am I wrong?” he asks, clutching at the bag.

I have to shake myself from whatever just happened there. His dark brown hair makes his blue eyes pop, and this is my issue right now: his eyes are blue , not gray. It’s like a visual mood ring and right now I can tell those walls are down. I don’t know if I can take what happens when he reverts back to gray eyes. Morally Grey. If I could somehow find a way to preserve his current mood, I wouldn’t be so filled with anxiety. I can talk to this version of him, tease him, and enjoy his company.

“You’re a Doritos girl?” he asks, holding up the bag in his other hand. Again, I’m shaken out of hypnosis. He’s picking chips just for me?

“Cheetos, for sure,” I smile, stealing the bag from his palm. He smiles at me, but I try not to look. My stomach can’t take it. I walk past him and spin on my heel to face him. “I take you for a Sour Patch Kids person.”

He chews his lips, looking at what else is in my hands. He shakes his head, stealing my chocolate bar. “I’ll take this.”

“Hey, that one’s mine!” I reach for it as he holds it high above my head.

“Grab your own,” he teases.

I pinch his nipple and twist. He jerks back, laughing.

I know.

I should keep my hands to myself, but I grew up with brothers and learned how to get my way in the quickest way possible, and I play dirty. He’s rubbing his nipple and laughing. “Ow! What was that for?”

I know I shouldn’t have violated him like that. I instantly regretted it because I felt how muscular his pecks were. I have to remain stern. “For stealing my chocolate. Get your own.” I hold my hand out so that he can give it to me, but he shakes his head.

“Are you telling me no?” I scoff, stepping forward. Now he nods and takes a step back. And now he’s running away from me. Running! So I’m chasing after him in this tiny gas station store. There are three aisles, and he’s running down each of them. He’s peeking over the top of the aisles to tease me.

“Hey,” the worker from the counter calls out. “Please don’t run. There’s water leaking and we don’t need either of you slipping.”

“Yeah, Greyson.”

I grab my own chocolate bar and meet Grey at the checkout. He also grabbed a water. I reach for his chest to mess with him, and he blocks my hand. “I need water too.”

He grabs my shoulder and says, “I’ll get it for you.”

I wiggle my eyebrows at him because that’s right.

When he comes back, he places the bottle on the counter and says to me, “Don’t get used to the princess treatment because I refuse to be a bitch .”

The worker stares at us like we’re crazy as Greyson pays for gas and snacks.

He throws the bag in the car and reaches for the gas nuzzle. I shake my head, reaching to take it from him. “My car, so I get to stick that in.”

“I got here first,” he says.

“Princess treatment is my right as a girl, so I’m going to be a passenger princess. If you suck at driving, you’ll need to pull over to let me vomit.”

“You get car sick?”

I nod, walking past him as he begins to put gas into my car.

“But you drove all this way to watch my game?”

“Yeah… because I’m a good girlfriend.”