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When I turn to get in my car, I can still see the desire in her eyes. I know she wants me as much as I want her, and she's resisting it.
I need to figure out what walls she has around her heart and obliterate them.
Slow and steady wins the race, and this race is for forever.
8?
The Blue and White Life
Avery
Ican't believe I let myself get sucked into this fiasco. Anyone could have been Ryan's social media messenger, but instead, I am forced to spend hours and hours with him.
It's torture. Sweet torture.
It's like having a Godiva chocolate sundae, with sweet, caramelized almonds and hot salted caramel sauce on top of the most decadent vanilla ice cream, and not eating it. I can look at it and smell it, to the point I can almost taste it, but I can't even take one little bite.
I can't even argue "The Blue and White Life" is a stupid idea. It's a damn brilliant idea. I should have thought of it myself. Fans are already signing-up to follow our updates on the team's socials.
I'm surprised Ryan agreed to open his life to the world. He doesn't even have an Instagram account. Ryan barely has any social media, which has only made fans more interested in getting a sneak peek into his life off the ice.
I couldn't say no.
There's no way I would leave the door open for some psycho with a smartphone to control what aspects of Ryan's life make it online, which is why I am here now, outside Luke's apartment on game day, ready to get up close and personal with Ryan Gunner.
Ryan opens the door before I knock like he's been waiting at the door for me. Unlike my apartment, Luke has one of those fancy doorbell cameras. I really hope he hasn't been spying on me because I've been in the hallway for at least three minutes preparing myself to face him.
"I was wondering if you were ever going to knock." Fuck.
I feel my cheeks turning red, which only makes Ryan's grin bigger.
"I hate you."
"No, you don't. You love me. You just haven't accepted it yet."
I ignore his comment and walk into the apartment. Luke's in the kitchen cooking a pregame meal. It smells ridiculously delicious. His sister is a professional chef, and his family loves hosting big dinners. He's every woman's dream—a reformed playboy with a heart of gold who can cook like Gordon Ramsay and keeps a tidy living space.
"What's cooking, Valentine?"
"We are making a chicken stir-fry with green veggies and a Japanese-style teriyaki sauce made from scratch," he says, tossing the veggies in the wok with a flick of his wrist. I've always wanted to be able to do that with pancakes, omelettes, and other flipping foods.
"Sounds amazing! I hope you are making enough for three."
"Four, actually. Holly's in the shower."
Of course she is.
"Okay, boss," Ryan smiles, rubbing his hands together like an evil genius. "Speaking of food, I thought our first post today could be about pregame meals."
It's a good idea and I take out my phone, snap pictures of Ryan and Luke in the kitchen cooking, and post them on Instagram. Then, I film Ryan talking about what it's like being a hockey player following a diet and meal plan.
"Hey, everyone." Ryan waves with a big smile like he's hosting a cooking show. "As you know, we have a big game tonight against the Pistons, and a big part of preparing for games is fuelling up. Luke here, is a closet chef. He's cooking us up some stir-fly.
"The key to a hockey player's diet is not to carb-load like guys did in the good ol' days. It's all about what we eat throughout the day to keep our bodies fed. Like most things, it's about balance."
Ryan is a natural on camera. He's engaging and fun, cracks jokes and speaks like he's having a conversation with fans instead of talking at them. He points out all meal components like protein, carbs, veggies and good fats. He talks about quantities and how often players need to eat.
"Players eat over five thousand calories a day. And I know what you're thinking. We should all be four hundred pounds," he laughs. "We eat double or triple the amount of a normal person, but we need all that food to make us look this good."
