“The Ice Crew.” I nod to the girls in sparkly outfits doing their routine on the other side of the rink. “The whole time they were out there. He couldn’t take his eyes off them.” The morehe stared, the more the green-headed monster that currently resides inside of me emerged.
Whenever he has a spare second, his eyes come to me. Georgia follows my gaze, then looks back at me.
“Madeline, no.” She’s fighting a laugh. I don’t know what the hell is funny. Not the Ice Crew or that one fucking ref with the blond hair.
“Yes.” How did she not see it? It was clear as day. I bet if I were close enough, I would have seen drool.
“He was probably zoning out, waiting to get back in the game or contemplating what player to lay out next.” That had been hot as hell. I noticed number 14 never came back either.
“He was staring.” My voice cracks a little, and I hate that. “I made this stupid shirt, and he’s staring at girls in sequins.” Did I jump in too quickly? My heart is screaming no, but my brain is screaming yes.
“You’re being crazy.”
“Am I?” I look back at the ice. Luke’s skating hard, but I can feel him trying to catch my eye. I don’t give it to him. He should have appreciated it while he had it. Now he can do without. See how he likes that.
Then I hear it. Behind us, a few rows up.
“Did you see Locke watching the Ice Crew?” Lana’s voice is loud enough to carry. “Poor guy looked like he was starving. He’s already looking for his next victim.” I bite the inside of my cheek, fighting not to snap back about her own victim.
Her friends laugh, like they always do, at anything she says. “That shirt his girlfriend made, though,” someone else says. “So fucking embarrassing.”
“Right?” Lana says. “All that effort for him to be checking out the talent.”
“Don’t listen to her. She’s a bitch,” Georgia says, but Lana is just saying what I’m already thinking. The shirt suddenly feelsridiculous. Handmade.Desperate.I spent a few hours on it. I’d been so excited for him to see it. I guess it covers too much skin and lacks sequins. That’s clearly now what he’s into.
The game ends. We win. I stand with Georgia and walk out without waiting to see if Luke’s looking.
On the car ride to the hotel, I keep my phone in my pocket. It’s going off nonstop, vibrating, but I ignore it.
Georgia keeps glancing at me. “You’re really not going to talk to him?”
“Nope.”
“Madeline, what if you’re wrong?”
“What if I’m not?”
She sighs. “Then he’s an idiot. But I think you are. I think you’re scared and looking for a reason to run.”
I don’t answer. She’s probably right. But I’m too far in now. The walls are already going up.
When we make it to the hotel, we head straight for the elevator and up to our room.
Our room looks like a small bomb went off in it. I changed and got ready in a hurry. I drop down onto the bed, my phone going off again. I can’t fight the temptation any longer. I look.
Luke:Where are you?
There are a handful of other texts before it. Asking me if I’m okay. That he wants to see me tonight. That he loved my shirt, and he wants me in it and nothing else.
I type back, “Tired. Going to sleep.”
Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.
Luke:I’m coming up.
Me:No.
Luke:Madeline…
