Clinton…
Roosevelt… Obama…
Wait—fuck. You know what I meant.
As I try andfailto recall all of the presidents, my mind strays back to Cleo’s question and I get a small inkling that my dear old cousin may just be with Cleo’s slightly younger brother. But there’s no way I’m telling her that, that right there is their business. Besides I’m not fully sure if they are actually together or not.
Cleo and I work together on our project, discussing our next few location options. She wants us to do a few shots at the bookstore, one of her safe places, and I completely agree as I watch her speak on the different places to work in. Cleo’s so deeply invested in her work and our shared goals that I’m fully enamored by her. And it’s only when I make a stupid ass joke and Cleo snorts that my heart does the most outrageous flip its ever done.
“Go on a date with me!” I blurt out before I have a chance to think about what I’m saying. I cringe at my own stupidity, mentally slapping myself for not being rational.
“I’m sorry… What?” She asks, tilting her head like a confused puppy. Although she looks confused by my words, it’s her eyes… The small shimmer of excitement in those beautiful brown eyes… That gives me the confidence to continue.
“I know you don’t do relationships, and I don’t either! But go on a datewith me. Just one, that’s all I’m asking for,” I plead with zero regrets. We miss every shot we don’t take and I’m sure as hell taking this one.
“Just one date?”
“Just one date. Saturday.” I smile with all the hope in the world.
“But—”
“Please?” I beg.God, look at what you have this girl doing to me.“Please, Princess? If you want me to beg on my knees just know I’ll be more than happy to get down on them for you,” I say in a joking tone, but we all know how serious I truly am.
“Fine. One date, but I’m not promising I’ll be too nice, Lover Boy”
It’s been two days since Cleo agreed to go on a date with me and to say I’ve been on a consistent high would be an understatement. I’m ecstatic and way too eager to get tonight’s game won and over with if it means I get to see her afterward.
Cleo and I knocked out another 20 percent of our project, leaving us with only six or seven more questions: it’s bittersweet… I won’t have an excuse to hang out with her every other day.
As Cleo dropped me off at the arena for tonight’s game, she declared that she would start posting on her Youtube channel again. Which increased my mood even more. Cleo’s slowly but surely breaking from that shell she’d been trapped in for Lord knows how long.
The match between SFU and Long Island U has been pretty intense with their enforcer asshole of a defenseman, Kris Moore, antagonizing everyone on the ice. Kris and I have a… history but nothing in this world can deter my good mood.
Nothing at all.
I spot Cleo in the crowd briefly as she shouts and cheers from behind the box. I send a small kiss to her then wince when my eyes drift down a bit more to find her father talking to one of the assistant coaches.
I havegotto be more careful around him.
We’re getting deeper into the game and as everything intensifies, more guys are sent to the sin bin on both sides for pettiness and small penalties. I’m watching my boys, making sure that everyone on the ice is good when a familiar voice turns my blood cold.
“I think I’ll take the chick with the bows home with me tonight.” Kris smugly chuckles, loud as all outdoors as he skates past me, and I don’t think twice as I go after him.
Now, you’re probably thinking…No, Blake please don’t do something stupid. And I won’t, especially in front of Cleo. I’m going to play it so safe you won’t even know what safe is until it hits you—
“I’ll fuck her so hard she’ll be seeing red and yellow for the next week.”
Now.I never said I was smart and safe—just safe. I go to swing, completely disregarding the fact that I’m on the ice and in a heated match and just as I think that I’ll hit him, a blur of blue and orange stops me.
“Get your fucking head in the game!” Jace shouts, skating us away from the idiot.
I let out a huff of frustration. I almost had that sorry son of a bitch and if it wasn’t for my best friend, I’d have his blood spread across the ice like jam on buttered toast.
“Nah, fuck that. Did you hear what he said?” I seethe.
“Oh, I heard. But there’s nothing that she hates more than idiots on ice. Get your shit together and play to fucking win,” he responds in a stern, zero-bullshit tone before skating back to his place and I’m so close to listening.
So,soclose.
