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Don’t be a bitch-stand up!
“Hollyn, wait.” I squeeze through the dude who made her politely leave and start up the cement stairs, but Hollyn is almost to the top.
I’m going to lose her if I don’t get her in time.
Taking two at a time, I gain space while Hollyn turns right and disappears out of my sight. I don’t know how to fix this, but I don’t want this to end.
As crazy and stupid as that sounds.
I’ve been over here trying to keep things at a distance, but my gut twists at the thought of never seeing her again. Unable to speak with her because she’s dug herself and that sunshine personality into my dark, and I don’t want to be without it.
Thankfully, with my height advantage, I can see Hollyn’s red curls bouncing with purpose to get the hell out of here and in a hurry.
Quickening my pace, I dodge fans and receive some looks that confirm they’re thinking if I’m The Reaper that they're used to seeing on the ice.
I’m able to gain ground on Hollyn, and when I reach out to get a hold of her, I’m plagued with my fame.
“Are you Reid Pierce?”
Fuck this.
I’m not about to lose Hollyn over a fan who wants to weasel into my business and wish for an autograph.
So, instead of turning Hollyn around to face me, I loop my arm with hers and guide her over to one of the souvenir shops.
To my surprise, Hollyn doesn’t try to pull from my grasp. I make eye contact with one of the cashiers, some short little thing with blonde hair who widens her eyes at me when she recognizes who I am.
“Privacy,” I bark out, prompting the girl to extend her arm and point to a door that I have no idea what it leads to.
Doesn’t matter.
There’s no way that I’m going to be able to cart Hollyn to the locker room and not be stopped by over a dozen people.
Shoving the door open, I step inside and promptly slam it when Hollyn is well within a place where she can’t openly run from me.
We’re in a small office, crammed with a desk in the corner and several bookshelves that make it even more cramped.
“What is this about—” Hollyn starts, but I’m already rounding on her and getting up in her face.
“You don’t leave like that when we haven’t finished talking.”
Both of her brows raise. “Excuse me?”
“You heard what I said, Shorty. We weren’t done talking.”
“I was.”
Two words, and they sound final.
Like she’s already shutting down on me and she doesn’t want to do this anymore.
The drama.
The way I’m closed off naturally and organically.
There is no point in her putting in any more of her energy because I’m not an easy guy to get through.
I’m a pain in the ass.
