Page 11

Lilly

“Ugh, is he going to be much longer?” Lakelyn groans, tapping her manicured nails against the table.

Double tapping my phone screen, I look down at the time to see it’s ten minutes past the time Greyson was meant to be here for his interview. They had practice, but that ended almost an hour ago, which should’ve given him enough time to do everything he needed to do after.

Maybe he’s forgotten it’s his turn today, but then again, Coach Gillingham has been on their asses about presentation and making sure they not only show up on time but also don’t answer stupidly to the questions we’re asking.

“We’ll give him another five minutes,” tapping my pen against my notepad, I chew at my lip as I glance toward the door again. “And if he doesn’t show, we’ll pack up and leave.”

“Fine,” she smacks her gum. “But I’m out of here the minute it’s over,” she turns, grinning at me. “I have a hot date tonight.”

Just as I’m about to respond, the door slams against the wall and Greyson comes running in, his breath ragged like he just got done running a marathon.

“Oh, goody,” Lakelyn claps her hands in a sarcastic manor. “He finally decided to show his face.”

“Sorry,” Greyson winces as he walks closer and takes a seat opposite me. “Coach was going in on us about our game tomorrow.”

“That’s fine,” I smile at him. “We appreciate you even taking the time to do this.”

“Okay, first question,” Lakelyn leans her elbows on the table and rests her chin in the palm of her hands. “Are you single?”

He blinks, looking between her and me. I shove my shoulder against her, and she glares at me. I don’t know how many more times I have to remind her to stop asking them that question. Or any question that’s not related to the article.

“First thing’s first,” I say, bringing his attention to me. “Are there any topics off limits?”

“Uh, family.”

Likewise.

“Okay.” I nod.

“How come?” Lakelyn tilts her head to the side, pursing her lips.

Once again I’m nudging her shoulder. You can’t ask someone who’s just very clearly stated they don’t want to talk about family, why they don’t want to talk about it. She shoves my shoulder back, and leans back into the chair, folding her arms across her chest.

I want to slap her.

Taking a deep breath in, I release it and tur n toward Greyson with a smile. “How did you get into hockey?” I ask, hovering my pen over the question written down in my notepad, ready to write down his answer.

“I was eight, and my uh…my friend played. At first I thought it was a dangerous sport, and I told myself I’d never step foot onto the ice,” he laughs, bringing a hand to his hair and moving a strand away from his eyes. “But the more I watched him, the more I became intrigued. So, one day when he offered to teach me how to play, I agreed. And I guess the rest is history.”

Smiling at his answer, I write it down before glancing at him. “There’s many positions to play on the ice, what made you choose to become a goalie?”

“When I first started, I tried every position, like most players do.” He says.

“In the bedroom too.” Lakelyn winks at him.

Rolling my eyes, I gesture for Greyson to carry on.

“There was just something about being a goalie that clicked for me,” he smiles, tilting his head toward the ceiling like he’s remembering the time he decided to choose that position. “I loved the idea of being the last line of defense, the one who could make or break the game with a single save.”

“Do you ever feel pressured by that responsibility?” Lakelyn finally asks a question related to the article.

“Yeah, but it’s a good kind of pressure,” he nods. “It pushes me to do better, to stay focused. Plus, there’s a certain thrill to those high-stake moments that you don’t get anywhere else on the ice.”

“So, it’s the challenge and adrenaline that keeps you hooked?” I ask.

“Exactly.” He smiles.

Returning his smile, I continue firing off questions. Some he answers with ease, others he asks to skip. Lakelyn hasn’t asked any more questions relating to the article, but she did ask for his number which he declined to give her, and she muttered under her breath about how she’d get it from one of the other bunnies.

“One final question,” I glance down at my notepad. “Any advice for aspiring goalies?”

“Uh…” he chews his lip. “Work hard, stay focused, and never give up. It’s a tough position to play in, but it’s also a rewarding one.”

Writing down his answer, my eyes scan my awful handwriting making sure I’ve asked the main questions I had circled. There’s still a few that remain unasked, but I didn’t want to keep him here longer than needed. Plus, it’s Thursday, aka the best day of the week—girl’s night. And I was excited to go home, get into matching pajamas with the girls, create a Halloween wonderland, and get wine drunk.

“And I’m off.” Lakelyn stands, grabbing her bag from the table before walking away.

I hear Greyson stand also, and then the door slams open, hitting against the wall and it’s just me left in the room. I lean forward and start packing away my things, reaching for my phone, I see a string of texts from Payton, probably letting me know she’s outside. Her car broke down this morning and it’s currently in for repairs, so I said she could use mine if she picked me up after the interview.

Pay: Hi, sorry… bad news??

Pay: Lecture is running late, so I won’t be able to pick you up for another 30/40 mins.

Pay: I promise to make it up to you??

Me: It’s fine, I’ll walk home??

I can’t exactly be mad at her, but I am thankful for past me for deciding to bring a coat. Standing from the chair, I secure the bow in my hair and when I look up, I jump, seeing Greyson standing there looking at me.

Lifting a hand to my chest as my heart rate increases slightly, I let out a half laugh. “You scared me, I thought you left when Lakelyn did.”

“Sorry,” he winces. “I thought I’d walk you out, is that an issue?”

I smile. “Not at all,” taking my coat from the back of the chair, I slide my arms in. “I’m walking home anyway, so I was just taking my time before heading out into the cold.”

“You’re walking home?”

“Yeah,” I nod, leaning down to grip the zipper. “Payton borrowed my car and she was meant to pick me up after, but her lecture is running late.”

“But it’s freezing outside.”

“Good job I brought my coat then,” I smile, zipping it up. “Plus, I only live about a twenty-minute walk, so if I speed walk, I should be home sooner.”

He rakes a hand through his hair. “Come,” he gestures with his head toward the door. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

“You don’t have to do that.” I shake my head, lifting my bag from the table.

“I want to, please .”

Pondering for only a few seconds, I agree. I’d rather get a ride home in a warm car than walk in the cold. Following Greyson across the room, he holds the door open for me and I thank him, pulling my bag on my shoulder.

“So, what’s her issue?” he asks, falling into step with me.

“Lakelyn?”

“Uh-huh.”

Lifting my shoulder, I shrug. “She was pissed you were running late, think she mentioned something about having a date.”

“Matteo.” He chuckles.

“Huh?”

“The hot date,” he clarifies, adjusting his bag. “One, he invited her to a study group with a few other people from their class. And two, Matteo is gay—his boyfriend Peter is a performing arts major.”

“Oh fuck,” I laugh. “I wish I was there to see her reaction when she finds out it's a group thing.”

Greyson pushes the door open to the parking lot, and we step outside into the cold. I lift my head and come to a halt when I see Kyle standing beside his car. Is he fucking stalking me? I’m sure I turned off my sharing location when I broke up with him.

I try to ignore him, bowing my head down and follow Greyson’s steps. But I’m not that lucky because he spots me and does a light jog over to me, smiling once he’s standing before me.

“Kyle, what do you want?” I ask, annoyance lacing my voice.

“To talk.” His eyes dart to Greyson who stopped walking as stares at us with curiosity.

“I think we talked enough this mo rning.” I sigh, trying to side step him.

“We didn’t,” he glances from me to Greyson. “Who’s this?”

The way he’s looking at Greyson like he’s a piece of five-day old gum on the bottom of his sneaker that he’s been trying to get rid of forever really pisses me off. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath before releasing it.

“Remember when I told you I moved on?” Bitterly laughing, I bring a finger to my head and tap it like he’d done earlier. “And you said it was all in my imagination? Well, this,” gesturing toward me and Greyson with my finger. “Doesn’t look like much of an imagination, does it?”

His eyes widen slightly, and I see a sliver of jealousy in them before I’m grabbing hold of Greyson’s hand, my heart thumping hard against my chest. “Which one is your car?” I whisper desperately.

“Uh, the silver Ford.” He points toward the only silver car in the lot.

“Let’s go.” I say, tightening my hand in his and dragging him across the parking lot like he isn’t a six-foot something hockey goalie.

Pulling the keys out of his pocket, he unlocks the car. Letting go of his hand, I quickly make my way toward the passenger side. Opening the door, I throw my bag down on the floor before getting in and slamming the door shut behind me as I try regulating my breathing.

The driver’s door opens, and Greyson gets inside. The silence is deafening, and I could feel his eyes on me, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. My nails dig into my palms as I squeeze my eyes shut. My heart is racing so fast against my chest that it feels like a trapped bird trying to escape.

What the actual fuck have I jus t done?