I instantly relax at the sound of the ringer, my blackmailer has never called me. Sighing at the realization, I turn the phone over and instantly regret it.
Dad is calling…
“Answer it,” Ry whispers, considerate of the movie playing.
“Absolutely not” I snap back through gritted teeth.
“Yes.”
“No.”
The call ends and we glare at one another just as the phone pings once again.
Dad
since you refuse to answer my calls, we will talk about this video on Thanksgiving. Don’t try to talk yourself out of this one, Cleo. I am so very disappointed in you right now.
forty-six
Cleo
“And that’s another stellarslapshot from Summerfield’s own Blake Wilder!” The announcer booms over the speakers of the arena’s sound system as Blake does a bow and arrow pose for the jumbotron.
Today, my nerves are jumpier than ever. It’s been a few weeks since my dad texted me saying that he was disappointed in me and I haven’t seen him since.
I’ve been to almost every single home game since then but Ryan told me that dad went back home to spend time with Gloria before the holiday weekend rolled around.
His assistant coach, Vince Morgan, has been coaching the boys since and has been doing an amazing job at it.
The guys move across the ice like a well-oiled machine and are leaving it all on the ice and though I’m surrounded by all the cheers and applause of my fellow SFU students, I can’t help but to feel lonely.
None of the girls were able to come to tonight’s game. Hell, I haven’t seen any of them since last night. And Ry is busy with a fuckinghousefor his architecture lesson, granted it’s made of popsicle sticks, but it’s still a damn house.
My knee bounces uncontrollably as I try and fail to make myself comfortable in my seat. I’m usually fine with being by myself at games like this but with everything going on, I feel more exposed and watched than anything.
I’m just about to spring out of my seat, and rush to the bathroom as halftime starts when “Night Changes” by One Direction plays on over the loud speakers of the arena. I chuckle at the memory of the song and settle into my seatawaiting, Lola the Tiger, Summerfield U’s mascot, to come skating onto the ice for her usual halftime show.
I frown as the lights go dark and Lola is nowhere to be found, pink and white light beams circle around the arena, creating a kaleidoscope affect at center ice just as a bright light blinds me momentarily.
It’s then that I realize that all eyes aretrulyon me. My hackles rise as the song grows louder and I appear front and center on the large jumbotron with the words “We <3 CJ” as the label.
“Oh my—” my words are cut off by loud whistles and cheers as the boys, my boys, skate out onto the ice holding something in their hands.
Are those…no. Where the hell would they know how to make those? My thoughts swirl around my head as the guys slowly start to exit the ice, putting on their guards before trekking up the stairs towardsme.
What the fuck—
“We love you, CJ!” the twins, Jordan and Jonah both hug me quickly before placing down two large and singular pink and white origami lotus flowers. The same exact ones that Jace used to make me and the girls when we were sad as kids.
As soon as the twins make their turn to leave, I’m faced with Lucki, who holds two more paper flowers. This proceeds until almost every single player has given me a flower until I’m finally faced with the creator of them all.
“I love you, Ceej,” Jace whispers into my hair as he kisses the top of my forehead. I repeat the saying to my oldest friend as he tucks one of the flowers behind my ear.
I’m smiling from ear to ear as the last man, the one I hadn’t known I was waiting for, stands in front of me.
“How was it, Princess?” He asks, crouching to pull me in for a hug.
“It was amazing!” I gush into his chest as he vibrates with laughter.
