“What?”
“It’s been, like, two weeks and…nothing. Were you being serious when you said you hate hockey guys?” he asks, his voice suddenly boyish and pained.
“Yes, and no?” He raises his eyebrow, moving his head to the side slightly. “I just don’t enjoy the hockey culture, I guess. Especially at NU. The parties, the drinking, the social media, the rituals, and the stupidity that is 'puck bunnies.' Us skaters stay away from you guys. It's an unspoken rule. I’ve been trying my best to follow that, but here you are.”
“I’m just irresistible, Wren. You're going to have to get used to it,” he says lazily.
“You’re more like a leech but sure,” I shrug.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t slept with anyone in over four months.,” he challenges. "I've never referred to a girl I've hooked up with as a Puck Bunny, and I never will."
“It doesn’t make me feel any better. It just means you can keep it in your pants longer than the average Joe. Congratulations,” I sigh. “That’s beside the point. All of my friends’ experiences with hockey guys have not ended well. The last thing I want is to be on someone like Jake Callahan’s roster.”
Miles laughs, a toothy grin spreading across his face. “Fine, I can admit that Jake is a dick but not everyone is like that. You can’t just put us all into the same box. What’s the word?”
He taps at the table with his forefinger. I can’t help but notice how clean his hands are. They’re huge yet they look so delicate. If I wasn’t so focused on not liking him, I would say he’s getting more brownie points just for letting my fantasise about his hands on me for a split second. The way they would look around my- No. No.What the fuck is wrong with me?
“Stereotype,” I say under my breath when I remember to speak. He grins as if I’ve helped him solve one of the worlds hardest problems.
“Yeah. You can’t stereotype us. I’m not saying I’m perfect but I’m a decent guy. Xavier, Harry, and Grey are too. And Carter…he was way too good for anybody.”
I see the way his eyes dim at the mention of his best friend. I didn’t know Carter that well, the same way I didn’t know most of the hockey guys, but he was always one the ones I could tolerate. When Scarlett was dating Jake, Carter was usually with them, and she would always say how funny he was. Everyone says that he had this light energy about him; everyone was so drawn to him. He wasn’t like one of those douchey guys that everyone idolises when they pass on. Carter was always kind. Everyone knew that before and after.
“Anyway, I’m rambling. All I’m saying is you need to give people a chance. Not everyone is out to get you. Xavier warned me about you and look, here I am,” Miles says, gesturing to himself, grinning.
I lean forward, looking into his green eyes, trying to figure him out. “Warned you how?”
“Oh, nothing. He just said you were pretty hard core,” he says, taking a piece of the scone that I forgot was there. He shoves a chunk into his mouth without asking and I’m too in my head to tell him not to.
Hard core.
Nobody has ever called me that before. I know I’m a little tough because I have to be. I can’t skate without being tough on myself and setting myself limits. But, hard core feels like something more. Somethingjusttangible. I nod my head, turning over his words. I want to give him a chance. I want to preform, and he needs to stop moping and get back to playing. I can’t deal with another pitiful look at school from everyone who saw my last performance and the countless NoCrumbs reposts.
“Can I ask you something? You can totally say no but again, Scarlett and Kennedy would murder me if I don’t ask,” I say bravely. Taking back my scone which, he somehow has nearly eaten half of.
“Yeah, sure. But first, can I ask what your deal is with them? No offence but I’ve only seen you hang out with them,” he says.
“You keeping tabs on me?” I smirk. He shrugs, not giving me an answer. “They’re basically my sisters. I wouldn’t be talking to you right now if it wasn’t for them.”
“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not,” he says, wearily, a sceptical look overtaking his face. I shrug in response too. “What did you want to ask?”
I’ve started it now. I have to follow through. I take a deep breath, closing my eyes quickly before opening them again.
“You kind of brought up at the party but I thought it was stupid. You were suggesting a way we can help each other out in a mutually beneficial way. Some way I can help you get back on track with training and you can help me boost my image again and let people fall back in love figure skating,” I explain, not fully meeting his eyes, suddenly finding the table more interesting.
“No offence, but how could you help me train? You’re like five-three,” he says, almost laughing.
“It’s a lot harder than hitting a puck on ice all day,” I mutter. He nudges me softly under the table. I take in a breath, not letting him get to me. “I go to the gym five, sometimes six, days a week. I’m on a strict food plan, I take Pilates classes when I can and I’m on the ice more than I’m in my bed. I don’t have the time or the energy to mess up my plan, but I can make adjustments.”
He stares at me, impressed and shocked. “Jesus, I do one of those things maybe twice a week. I used to be a lot better but since Carter… I just haven’t.”
For some strange reason I want to hold his hand, and squeeze it reassuringly, to tell him it’s okay to lose motivation but I tell myself not to. We're not there yet. I know how hard it is to get back on track after losing someone. I saw how hard it was for Kennedy after losing her dad when she was a kid.
“I know and that’s why I want to help. I can’t stand you a lot of the time,butI feel for you, and this might actually work,” I say, finally admitting it to myself.
“I think so too. How could I help you, though?”
CHAPTER 7
