For crosby, p.9
For Crosby, page 9
“It must be hard hating someone you’re supposed to love.”
I crumbled up my napkin and tossed it into the small trash can in the corner. “It sucks.”
“You didn’t mention your mom.”
“She was an unknowing accomplice. Signing paperwork she didn’t read and allowing my father to put her name on everything business related.”
Sabrina nodded, and though she had no idea what it was like to be me, I believed she understood my pain.
We finished off our meals and Sabrina stood, grabbing our empty dishes and tossing them into the now empty bag.
Worry suddenly twisted my gut. Did she plan to head back home now that we’d eaten? Had she done her good deed for the year? Was she now off to bestow pity on someone else? Anger crept in. The type I couldn’t control. The type that overtook my thoughts and shook my bones.
“So, what should we do now?” she asked.
Her words stilled my anger. “You’re not leaving?”
Her mouth parted slightly. “Oh...I just thought...”
Oh, fuck. “No, I meant I didn’t think you’d want to hang around here.”
“No, that’s fine.” She scrambled around trying to secure the covers on the food containers. “My dorm’s one of them they close over break, so I can head home.”
I jumped to my feet and stepped up behind her, reaching around and stopping her hands from frantically stuffing empty containers into the bag. She stiffened as my hands circled her tiny wrists and my chest pressed to her back. Her peach scent invaded my senses as it had that night on the dance floor. We stood like that for a long moment, both breathing unsteadily. “I want you to stay.”
She said nothing.
“No one has ever done something this nice for me before.”
She remained silent.
“I want you here with me.” I dropped my hands as she twisted to face me.
We were mere inches from each other. She stared into my eyes and, for the first time, it was as if she saw someone she didn’t hate. She looked at me like she could see all the way down to the depths of who I was. I almost asked what she discovered, since so many pieces of me had been broken over the last year. “Am I getting Crosby or Mr. Hockey?”
I scoffed, though having her lips so close to mine did weird things to my train of thought. “Which would you prefer?”
Her mouth twisted as she deliberated. “Mr. Hockey’s arrogance is unparalleled.”
I stifled a snicker given the honesty in her tone.
“But Crosby is easier to talk to.”
“Then Crosby it is.”
“It’s that easy?”
“Yup. Now come on. I wanna take you somewhere.”
Her brows shot up. “Will you be bringing rope?”
I laughed. “No. I wanna take you to the rink.”
“You planning to show off?”
Realizing I was still so close to her, I stepped back. “Maybe.”
She laughed and I was beginning to like her laugh more than I had the right to. “Well, I can’t skate, so I’ll hang in the seats and watch.”
“You can’t skate?”
“I’m from Florida. Not much ice there.”
“Same in Texas. But we have these things called ice rinks.”
She shoved my arm, which made me laugh harder. “Oh, so you’re funny?”
“Don’t forget smart and talented—just like you,” I said.
She shook her head and walked to my door. “Come on. Before I start hating you again.”
“You never hated me.”
Her laughter as she walked out the door told me she definitely had.
Sabrina
While Crosby took off for the locker room to grab something, I walked to the opening in the rink wall and tested the ice with the tip of my sneaker. The surface was smoother than I imagined and too slippery for me to feel comfortable standing on it.
“You coming?” Crosby said as he skated toward me from the opposite end of the dark rink.
The last time Crosby skated toward me in that rink, I felt nothing but disdain for him. This time, as he made his way toward me in jeans and a T-shirt, I smiled. Being there with him made absolutely no sense at all. Me liking being there with him made even less sense.
He held up a pair of hockey skates. “Put these on.”
“You’re kidding?”
“Scared?”
I snatched the skates from his hand. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve got while I put these on.”
His lips slipped into a cocky smirk as I sat down in the nearest seat. “You sure you can handle it?”
I pulled off my sneakers and slipped my feet into the hockey skates. “I’m not easily impressed.”
“Sounds like a challenge.”
I shrugged as I proceeded to lace up the skates.
Crosby turned away from me and zigzagged down the length of the ice faster than I’d ever seen someone skate in person. I thought he’d crash into the far wall, but he swerved quickly, and skated toward me—backward.
Damn show off.
I stood unsteadily on my skates and held onto the seat in front of me, slowly making my way to the opening in the rink.
When he reached me, he spun, scraping the ice with his blades and spraying frost all over my legs.
I suppressed a grin. “Not impressed.”
His brows shot up. “Oh no?”
I shook my head.
“What’s it gonna take?”
I lifted my chin at the ice. “More than that.”
He glided forward until he stopped in front of me in the open doorway. “Be careful what you ask for.”
It happened before I saw it coming. He grabbed me and tossed me over his shoulder, taking off and circling the ice at top speed with me hanging upside down and screaming like a maniac. “Put me down!”
His deep laughter filled the arena, echoing off the empty seats.
“I’m serious!” I shrieked as I held on to his hips for dear life.
My pleas didn’t faze him. He moved faster and in ways that would surely send me flying off his shoulder if he fell. But he didn’t. His movements were smooth, his turns effortless. If I wasn’t so scared of landing face first into the ice, I might’ve enjoyed the ride more. “You impressed yet?” he asked.
“Yes!” I screeched.
“I don’t believe you.” He spun, whipping me around and skating backward.
I closed my eyes and buried my face in his back. “I’m impressed!”
His shoulders shook with laughter as he slowed to a stop at the side of the ice. He guided me over his shoulder and down his front until he placed me on my skates.
I glared into his light eyes as I held the sides of his arms for support. I wanted to be pissed at him for scaring the hell out of me, but his flushed cheeks, deep breaths, and grin softened my anger.
Damn him.
“That was fun,” Crosby said.
My feet slipped on the ice beneath me, so I inched my way over to the nearby wall, releasing my hold on Crosby and grasping onto it with a death-grip. “I’m glad you thought so.”
He laughed. “Come on. You have to admit it’s fun being out here. The crispness of the air. The breeze in your face. The speed of the ice.”
“If my butt wasn’t pointing north the whole time, I might’ve appreciated it a little bit more.”
He ticked his head toward the center of the ice. “Come on then.”
My eyes dropped down to my skates.
He held out his hand. “I’ve got you.”
I stared at his outstretched hand, noticing the interesting way his tattoos cut off at his wrist. Not being one to show fear, I grabbed hold of his hand. He linked his finger with mine. His grip was strong and warm, something I hadn’t realized I needed in the cold arena.
He eased me off the wall and basically walked on his skates so I could slip my way around the ice. “See you’re doing it.”
“Barely.”
We moved slowly around the perimeter of the ice with him pulling me along as I kept my skates as steady as I could.
As we approached the first turn, he squeezed my hand. I figured he was keeping me from falling, but then he spoke softly. “Thanks.”
I gave him a sidelong glance as I struggled not to fall on my butt. “For what?”
“Showing up.”
I couldn’t be sure if I wanted to smile at the vulnerability he was displaying or cry for the boy inside him who’d lost everything. “I have a habit of showing up, don’t I?”
He snickered. “I guess you do.”
“Well, if you stopped giving me reasons to, I wouldn’t have to.” I bumped him with my hip which probably wasn’t the best idea since I could barely stay upright on my own.
“Now where would the fun in that be?”
I smiled as I leaned into his arm for support as we slowly made it through the first full corner. “So, do you miss Texas?”
“Yup.”
“That was fast. You hate it that much here?”
“Yup.”
“Oh, thanks,” I said, feigning insult.
“No, I just meant—”
I laughed. “I know what you meant. I was teasing you.”
Once we’d circled the ice one time, I wondered if he’d stop at the open doorway. He didn’t. We proceeded around again. This time I felt more comfortable, though a triple axel would not be in my future. “Why’d you choose hockey? You suck at football or something?”
He choked on a laugh. “Did you seriously just say that?”
“I did.”
A flicker of amusement lit his eyes. “No, I didn’t suck at football. I chose hockey for the fights.”
I laughed. “Does every hockey player say that?”
“Probably.” Unexpectedly, he stopped and moved in front of me, grabbing my other hand so he held both. I couldn’t peel my eyes away from his, wondering what he had planned. “Let’s get you moving a little faster.”
“That sounds like a terrible idea.”
While facing me, he skated backward and pulled me forward. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you if you fall.”
I didn’t doubt it. And that scared the hell out of me.
We’d nearly made it around the ice another full time when the front of my skate caught a bump in the ice and sent me toppling forward. Crosby didn’t expect me to crash into his chest because his legs shot out in unnatural directions. He fought to remain upright, but he fell backward with me clutched to his chest.
“Ohmigod,” I squealed as I closed my eyes and landed with a thud on top of him.
A long silence passed. I didn’t open my eyes for fear of Crosby’s reaction. Would Mr. Hockey rear his ugly head?
My eyes cracked open.
Crosby dropped his head back on the ice and laughter burst out of him. The sound echoed around the empty rink.
“What’s so funny? Are you hurt?”
He lifted his head to look at me. “You weigh a hundred pounds. I’m fine.”
Instinctively, my hands shot out and my fingers slipped through the back of his hair, feeling for a bump. “Did you hit your head?”
“I told you I’m fine. If you don’t stop fussing over me, I might think you actually like me.”
I snorted. “It’s gonna take more than fancy skating to get me to like you.”
He gazed into my eyes with a small grin on his face, but said nothing.
“What?”
He shook his head, though his eyes riveted between mine for another long moment. “Stay.”
My brows shot up. “What?”
“Don’t go home. Stay here with me.”
A weird sensation swirled in my belly. What was he asking? What did he think was going on between us? “Why?”
“Because you’re the closest thing I’ve got to a friend these days, and I really don’t want you to leave.”
The desperation of his words, mixed with the honesty in his gaze, pricked my eyes with tears. I didn’t cry easily, but in that moment, with him beneath me awaiting my response, I realized he truly had no one but me.
But how long did he want me to stay? For the night? For the week? Until school began again? I guess it didn’t matter. I didn’t have anything going on back home. And no one but my parents would miss me, and they were leaving for a two-week cruise mid-January anyway. “Okay.”
His smile nearly erased every bad thought I’d ever had about him. How was this the same guy I’d met in November?
By the time we returned to his room, the sun had set and his room was pitch black. He flipped on the light. And suddenly the space was too small. Too silent. Too stifling.
What had I agreed to?
“You wanna watch a movie?” Crosby asked, gesturing toward his bed.
“A movie?”
“Yeah. What’d you think I was gonna do? Get you back here and try to get you naked?”
“Kinda.”
He snickered. “Well, you’re here. Does that mean I misread things?” He climbed onto the bed and crossed his arms behind his head with his legs outstretched in front of him. “We can totally forget the movie.”
I rolled my eyes.
Crosby laughed as he sat up, pushing himself back so he leaned against the wall. “Come on,” he said, grabbing his tablet from his nightstand and tapping away at the screen.
I walked over and sat, kicking off my shoes before leaning beside him and stretching out my legs.
He called up a couple movies. I pointed to the recent blockbuster I hadn’t seen. He looked to me. “Seriously?”
“I love action movies. And, I wouldn’t want you to fall asleep watching a chick flick.”
He bumped me with his shoulder. “You’re all right, you know that?”
“Yup,” I said, as he selected the movie. “It’s about time you figured it out.”
He smiled as the opening credits appeared on the screen.
We watched the movie in comfortable silence. It gave me time to think. Since arriving back on campus, I hadn’t had time to consider what I’d done by showing up—or even how I really felt about Crosby now that I’d gotten to know him a little better. He’d entered my life unexpectedly and turned it upside down at times, but he was different than I imagined. Funnier. Thoughtful. Calmer.
Crosby pulled in a deep breath beside me and released it slowly. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he thinking about me the way I was thinking about him? Or was he just focused on the movie like I should’ve been?
One thing I was beginning to understand was the reason for his split personalities. He didn’t know who to trust. His parents screwed him over and then the guys on the team made his transition to our school hell. It made sense that he wouldn’t freely open himself up to people he just met. I guess with him you had to earn it. Was that what was happening between us? Had he been gauging whether or not he could trust me? Was he starting to trust me?
I thought back to the confident way he moved on the ice while showing off for me earlier. The gentle way he held onto me and guided me around the ice. The way he protected me with his body when I oh-so-gracefully knocked us down. Every girl wanted to be treated like she was someone special. And as crazy as it was to admit, being alone with Crosby on the ice made me feel that way.
Beside me, Crosby lifted his hand to his chin, moving his fingers lightly over the stubble dusting his jawline. His arm brushed mine as he did and I tensed. It had been some time since I’d been alone on a bed in a dark room with a guy. And most of the time, even if we’d begun our night watching a movie, we didn’t finish the movie.
My imagination began to run wild. Was Crosby moving his hand a calculated effort to move closer? Was he planning to reach over and try to touch me? Try to grab my hand? Try to...something? We were all alone. No one would interrupt. No one would stop us.
But a minute later, he dropped his hand and was engrossed in the movie.
Inside, I cringed at the inaccuracy of my thoughts.
But now that my traitorous mind had begun to wander, I was becoming more and more aware of Crosby’s presence. His steady breathing beside me. His woodsy fresh scent filling the air. His strong body pressed into my side.
It had been over a year since I’d been with a guy. Was I just horny? Did the darkness automatically mean hooking up for me?
My heartbeat began to quicken, and I felt it thumping everywhere.
Shit.
Twenty-four hours ago I hated Crosby. Why all of a sudden was my body so attuned to his?
He shifted his butt over an inch or two. I held my breath. Was this the moment he’d make a move?
Nope. He was just getting more comfortable.
Frustration crept into my bones. Was I actually disappointed he hadn’t tried anything? Was he not attracted to me? Was I not his type?
After a few more car chases and explosions on the screen, the movie ended. I remained silent and still, a ball of confused nerves.
Crosby turned to look at me. Could he tell where my thoughts had been? Had he felt my heartbeat racing? Had he felt me tense up every time he moved his body?
“You can take the bed,” he said, breaking the silence and reining in my thoughts.
“I’m not taking your bed,” I said, internally berating myself for jumping to conclusions. “It’s your room.”
“And you’re my guest.” He rolled over, careful not to touch me as he hopped over me and stood up. “Where are your keys?”
“I left them on your desk.”
He switched on a small desk light and found my keys, scooping them up and heading to the door.
“What are you doing?”
“Grabbing your things.”
I watched as he turned and left the room, still taken aback by this thoughtful side of him. If I’d met this version of Crosby that night at the tree, would things have turned out differently between us? Or were things unraveling just as they were supposed to?
“Thanks,” I said when Crosby returned a couple minutes later with my suitcase. “I so need to brush my teeth.”
He laughed as he placed my suitcase down in front of me.
I rummaged through it, grabbing my toiletries bag and some cute pajamas. Crosby grabbed his own toothbrush and toothpaste from his drawer, and we left his room together, parting ways at our respective bathrooms.
