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“Never assume when it comes to me.” I hook my arm around her back, basking in the warmth of her body against mine. “I will surprise you every time.”
She locks onto me, her blue eyes piercing through me. “So far you have. Every time. You’re nothing like what I thought.”
“Ah, you expected me to be an asshole.” I release my loose grip on her, taking her hand in mine, as we walk down the subway steps which lead to the underground train. “Am I right?”
“Yep. You have shattered all of my expectations of the legendary Peter Preston Parker.”
I roll my eyes at her.
“What?”
“I hate hearing my full name.”
“You never told me why your parents named you after Spider-Man.”
“Because I try to forget.”
“It’s actually a pretty cool name. I mean, how many people are named Peter Parker?”
“A lot. More than you’d think. There’s a lot of comic nerds out there.”
“Oh.” She seems surprised, as if my parents were the only idiots to name their child after a superhero. “I guess there’s a bunch of Tony Stark’s running around, too. Huh?”
A smile turns up the corners of my mouth. “I’m wowed by your knowledge of Marvel characters. Jamie will love you. You better keep that to yourself, or I might lose you to him.”
She laughs. “Not a chance.”
“What else are you into? Are you a closet gamer, too?”
“Nah, not so much video games. The controllers hurt my knuckles.” She moves her hands out in front of her, pretending as if she’s holding a basketball, and then shoots the imaginary ball. “I can’t do anything to jeopardize my spot on the team. It’s hard to dribble or shoot when your hands are numb.”
“That’s why I only play on occasion. But my Uncle Jameson’s new game is too addictive to stop playing once I start. It’s like crack. This mage or wizard or whatever the fuck he is keeps kicking my ass.”
She laughs. “I can’t see you playing video games with magicians in them.”
“You have me figured out all wrong, sweetheart. Everything that comes out of your mouth is a stereotype, not fact.”
After I swipe my subway pass, and we’re on the train headed toward South Philly, we settle into two chairs toward the back.
“Okay, so what are the facts about the closet gamer hockey stud sitting next to me?” She gives me a goofy look that makes a dimple I never noticed pop in her right cheek.
“What do you want to know?”
“Do you have any other secret nerd hobbies no one knows about?”
I laugh. “Nope, just video games. And I wouldn’t consider those nerdy, anyway. Jamie’s the one who’s obsessed with science fiction and a whole hell of a lot of geeky shit I don’t even understand.” I slide my arm along the top of her chair, my fingers grazing the nape of her neck. “Now that you know all of my secrets, what are you keeping from me?”
She stills from my touch and sucks in a deep breath. “I’m too boring to have secrets.”
“I doubt that. Everyone has something to hide.”
“My mom left my dad for his best friend right before I started high school. The entire school talked about it. Hell, the entire town gossiped about my mom sleeping around and running off with another hockey coach.”
“Ouch. I had no idea.”
She shrugs. “Dad never talks about the past. He likes it to stay there… where it belongs.”
“This is our stop,” I say as the train slows.
She glances over her shoulder at the doors opening to the underground terminal.
Five minutes later, we stroll into the gymnasium, where my mom is standing at the center of the court. She clutches her whistle between her fingers and raises it to her mouth. The group of twelve-year-old boys gather around her. Their eyes are wide and hopeful.
“I can’t believe I’m meeting your mom. This feels so… I don’t know. Like we’re dating. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”
I pinch her elbow to reassure her and heat pricks my skin. My God, I love touching this girl, stealing quick exchanges whenever I can. Even though I should stay far, far away from her.
“You’ll be fine,” I promise. “She won’t bite you.”
Her cheeks flush, as if she’s thinking she’d like me to bite her instead. Or maybe I’m reading too much into her every move. It’s hard not to study Bex when she’s in my presence. I have trouble taking my eyes off her.
We stop next to my mom, who spins around when I tap her on the shoulder. She pushes a few strands of caramel colored hair behind her ears, a big smile on her face. Her gaze shifts from me to Bex.
“Preston,” Mom says as she hugs me. “You’re here. And early for once.” She releases me and takes a step back, appraising Bex for a second before she says, “And you must be Bex. Preston has told me so much about you.”
