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Technically, I went rogue with our agreement because there was nowhere in there where our lips were supposed to meet.
So that excuse was out.
I did it because I wanted to—plain and simple.
She’s infuriating, as she is beautiful. Two things that shouldn’t turn me on, but they do. Everything she does drives me crazy but always intrigues me at the same time.
I don’t get it.
I have no problem telling other people to fuck off, but when it comes to Hollyn, I just let her do it. I allow her to continue on and just stand there listening like a moron.
The little argument yesterday about her car was valid. It would’ve bothered the hell out of me, too, but I didn’t feel like standing there while Kevin kept talking to her like a Karen, and I was about to knock his head off.
I did it to get us out of there, save me from an assault charge, and get Hollyn home. She was getting visibly upset, and it was pissing me off. Kevin wasn’t helping, wasn’t going to, and I pegged him from a mile away that he fucked her over, and there was no undoing it.
However, I distressed her more for paying for said repairs, so I kissed her in hopes of calming her down and focusing on something else.
It might be another excuse, but it goes along with the last one.
We’re in the middle of the last quarter of the kids’ hockey game, with two minutes left. Hollyn has been standing the whole time, cheering them on and telling them how good of a job they’re doing.
I try my fucking best to do the same, but I fall on my ass with it. I bark out what they need to be doing and study the strongest players on the opposing team. Hollyn makes up for it, though, and they beam at her, needing that supportive side while I’m the bad cop, wanting them to push and focus.
They’ll get everything they need from me after the game with the encouraging words and how they played.
That shit is earned, and Hollyn is handing it out like candy, but it’s whatever. The woman could throw confetti on the ice, and I’d probably let her. She evens me out. The boys are content and not crying, so I’m only thrilled about it.
The last thing I need is parents with pitchforks about how I’m too hard on them and turn it into something it doesn’t need to be.
However, I’m not going to be here much longer, and Weston isn’t going to get a grip because he’s too busy flirting with two moms on the other side of the bench near the crowd. Hollyn is going to be on her own yet again, and it fucking bugs me.
“What position does Andy play, Shorty?”
She doesn’t look at me, watching the boys all team up on their opposition and trying to get possession of the puck again. “Defenseman.”
“Good.” I’ve been teaching her throughout practice and the game what role each kid plays and what their jobs entail. She’s picking up quickly and soaks in nearly everything I say. The perfect assistant if she wasn’t so damn sexy. Then maybe I’d stop eye-fucking her any chance I can. “How about Aiden?”
“Center. Also, the captain.” I nod and get slightly surprised when Andy—the kid who used to cry when I’d kick him off the ice—shoves one of his opponents hard into the boards.
Damn.
“Is Weston still flirting with Matthew’s mom?”
I don’t bother looking over at said asshole because I know he is. I also don’t want Hollyn to spend another thought on it, even though we’ve been on this Merry-Go-Round a dozen times before.
She likes him—whether I understand it or not—and who the hell am I to keep reminding her that I think he’s a loser who’s trying to get his dick wet.
“Who the fuck cares?” I retort, trying to keep his bullshit negativity off her. “If he was smart, he’d be flirting with you right now.”
She scoffs at that and shifts her weight—code for how much she’s not appreciating that it has to even be mentioned. Hollyn said it herself: he’s flirting with other women, which I believe would translate into cutting off her crush immediately.
Nonetheless, Hollyn is a victim to whatever it is Weston did to make her fall so hard, and I’m obviously still clueless on what that was. How many times do I need to tell this woman that she’s too good for him? That he’s not worth her time?
“I don’t think he likes me like that,” she claims evenly, then shrugs like it’s no big deal. “Maybe I’m aiming too high.”
“Too high?” I snarl before pushing my forearm into hers to gain her attention. Those captivating blue eyes instantly come up to me for the first time in well over an hour and I ground to them with my next words. “Don’t ever let me hear you say that shit again, Shorty. You’re aiming too low if you ask me.”
She shakes her head. “I’m not saying it because I don’t think I’m attractive enough. Maybe I’m just not his type.”
