When the door opens behind me, I turn to find Jace grinning at me, beckoning me to come in.
And when I do, I gasp.
The room is completely dark except for the many candles flickering around the room. On the floor is a pallet of blankets and pillows, with a tray of snacks and two bottles of soda next to it. I look at him and he’s watching me, his eyes dark as I stare at him in complete puzzlement.
Because I know now this guy is not going to make it easy.
Not even a little bit.
“So this is my favorite spot, and let me show you why.”
Jace takes my hand, pulling me to the ledge where you can see the whole ice and the arena around it, then pointing down at it. “In about ten minutes, the Zamboni will go for about a half an hour. I love the sound of the Zamboni. I usually just lie here and listen to it. Or if I’m studying, it calms me. Then,” he says, pulling back to where the blankets are. He points to the ceiling, and I look up to see only glass and the black night sky looking back at me. The moon is full tonight and bright, the stars shining in all their glory.
It’s beautiful.
“So I lie here, looking at the sky, and listen to the Zamboni. I usually fall asleep here. Mike, the ice guy, has found me plenty of times,” he laughs as he lowers himself onto the blankets, kicking off his sneakers. “Wanna sit with me? Or you got plans with Totally Lame Todd?”
I roll my eyes as I kick off my flats and sit down next to him. Baylor is still slamming pucks into the goal, the cracking sound of her stick filling the room as I turn onto my belly, reaching for a slice of cheese from the spread. “The only lame guy I’m digging is Lame Line Larry.”
Fist-pumping, he yells out, “Yeah!”
Giggling, I throw the cheese in my mouth. “Pepperonis and cheese? Someone was stalking my Facebook.”
“I call it research,” he says, handing me my favorite, Cherry Coke.
“I call it creeping,” I tease as I pop another piece of cheese into my mouth.
“So you can honestly say you weren’t creeping my Facebook?”
Hiding my grin, I take a long pull of Coke and shrug. “I don’t creep.”
His laughter runs down my spine as he lies on his back against the pillows, looking up at the sky. Watching him, I’m overwhelmed by how fascinating his face is. I’m not an art major, but I did take Art One and Two in high school, and I’m pretty sure his face fits perfectly in the golden ratio of ideal facial proportions and symmetry. One really corny teenager…not me, of course…could say he was who da Vinci was searching for.
My very own da Vinci code…
Man, I’m pathetic.
But really, his lips are so thick and plump. His jaw, perfection. And even with the scar on it, it’s delectable. Devastating, really. “You’re, like, hot. You know that?”
His face breaks into a grin before he turns to look at me. His eyes go half-lidded as he looks at me. “I think the same about you.”
But I shake my head. “No, really. Like, you’re hot. No wonder you thought you could play the player game.”
His laughter bubbles in his throat as he shakes his head. Redness creeps up his throat, his cheeks. “You’re insane.”
“Aw, you’re blushing,” I tease, leaning into him, but soon I’m not laughing.
Because, crap, he’s quick. His face in front of mine, his lips brushing against mine. I close my eyes, ready to kiss him, but then he is grasping my face, his thumb running along my jaw, and I’m breathless. I’m unable to form my next breath or even a thought as his eyes bore into mine.
“Wanna know why?” he whispers, his mouth moving against mine.
But I can only blink as my heart pounds against my ribs. He is just so gorgeous when he’s being all intense. Goodness gracious, where the hell did this guy come from? “Sorry, what? I’m taken by your hotness right now.”
He presses his lips together and then he is fighting back the laughter that is building in his chest. Letting me go, he falls back against the pillows, his body shaking with hilarity, and all I can do is watch. I don’t know if it’s the ambiance of what he has put together or the fact that no one has ever done anything like this for me or both, but this has me feeling like I’m on cloud nine. It’s crazy and insane, but man, it feels good.
Is this what falling in love feels like?
Why did I ask that?
As his laughter subsides, I take a pepperoni, popping it in my mouth to keep from overanalyzing that thought as he looks over at me. His eyes are dancing with amusement—but also lust—as they drink me in.
“I only see you.”
I sniff. “Well, I’d hope so since I’m the only one here, and there isn’t a mirror for you to gawk at your hotness in. Do you do that? Like, drink yourself in?”
Rolling his eyes, he chuckles. “Brat.” The grin on his face is beautiful as he rolls to his side, sliding his hand along my arm and then into my hand. “So anyway…” he starts and I grin.
“Tired of me yet?”
“Never.”
My grin grows as our fingers lace together, but then his phone sounds and he reaches down, pulling it out of his pocket. “Sorry, I forgot to turn it off.”
“It’s fine,” I say as he goes to shut it off, but then something must have caught his attention because he pauses, looking at the screen. His brows pull together as his lip comes between his teeth. “Everything okay?”
He nods. “It’s my dad.”
Oh. Okay, not that I thought it was some other girl and was insanely jealous or anything. That’s not me. Duh.
“He’s always calling and texting me now. I’m the only one who talks to him.”
“Why is that?”
He shrugs. “He’s my dad and I guess I still want him to be. But then I can’t let go of what he did to my mom.”
“Understandable.”
“But he gave me a whole bunch of money the other day, and he’s asking to come to my games and for me to go to dinner with him and his ho. I don’t know how to say no without being a dick. Because I did take his money.”
“Hm. Sounds like a pickle.” I know it’s not my place, but I want to help. “Maybe don’t take the money until you’re ready to forgive him?”
“I won’t forgive him, but I need the money. I hate not having money.”
And when I do, I gasp.
The room is completely dark except for the many candles flickering around the room. On the floor is a pallet of blankets and pillows, with a tray of snacks and two bottles of soda next to it. I look at him and he’s watching me, his eyes dark as I stare at him in complete puzzlement.
Because I know now this guy is not going to make it easy.
Not even a little bit.
“So this is my favorite spot, and let me show you why.”
Jace takes my hand, pulling me to the ledge where you can see the whole ice and the arena around it, then pointing down at it. “In about ten minutes, the Zamboni will go for about a half an hour. I love the sound of the Zamboni. I usually just lie here and listen to it. Or if I’m studying, it calms me. Then,” he says, pulling back to where the blankets are. He points to the ceiling, and I look up to see only glass and the black night sky looking back at me. The moon is full tonight and bright, the stars shining in all their glory.
It’s beautiful.
“So I lie here, looking at the sky, and listen to the Zamboni. I usually fall asleep here. Mike, the ice guy, has found me plenty of times,” he laughs as he lowers himself onto the blankets, kicking off his sneakers. “Wanna sit with me? Or you got plans with Totally Lame Todd?”
I roll my eyes as I kick off my flats and sit down next to him. Baylor is still slamming pucks into the goal, the cracking sound of her stick filling the room as I turn onto my belly, reaching for a slice of cheese from the spread. “The only lame guy I’m digging is Lame Line Larry.”
Fist-pumping, he yells out, “Yeah!”
Giggling, I throw the cheese in my mouth. “Pepperonis and cheese? Someone was stalking my Facebook.”
“I call it research,” he says, handing me my favorite, Cherry Coke.
“I call it creeping,” I tease as I pop another piece of cheese into my mouth.
“So you can honestly say you weren’t creeping my Facebook?”
Hiding my grin, I take a long pull of Coke and shrug. “I don’t creep.”
His laughter runs down my spine as he lies on his back against the pillows, looking up at the sky. Watching him, I’m overwhelmed by how fascinating his face is. I’m not an art major, but I did take Art One and Two in high school, and I’m pretty sure his face fits perfectly in the golden ratio of ideal facial proportions and symmetry. One really corny teenager…not me, of course…could say he was who da Vinci was searching for.
My very own da Vinci code…
Man, I’m pathetic.
But really, his lips are so thick and plump. His jaw, perfection. And even with the scar on it, it’s delectable. Devastating, really. “You’re, like, hot. You know that?”
His face breaks into a grin before he turns to look at me. His eyes go half-lidded as he looks at me. “I think the same about you.”
But I shake my head. “No, really. Like, you’re hot. No wonder you thought you could play the player game.”
His laughter bubbles in his throat as he shakes his head. Redness creeps up his throat, his cheeks. “You’re insane.”
“Aw, you’re blushing,” I tease, leaning into him, but soon I’m not laughing.
Because, crap, he’s quick. His face in front of mine, his lips brushing against mine. I close my eyes, ready to kiss him, but then he is grasping my face, his thumb running along my jaw, and I’m breathless. I’m unable to form my next breath or even a thought as his eyes bore into mine.
“Wanna know why?” he whispers, his mouth moving against mine.
But I can only blink as my heart pounds against my ribs. He is just so gorgeous when he’s being all intense. Goodness gracious, where the hell did this guy come from? “Sorry, what? I’m taken by your hotness right now.”
He presses his lips together and then he is fighting back the laughter that is building in his chest. Letting me go, he falls back against the pillows, his body shaking with hilarity, and all I can do is watch. I don’t know if it’s the ambiance of what he has put together or the fact that no one has ever done anything like this for me or both, but this has me feeling like I’m on cloud nine. It’s crazy and insane, but man, it feels good.
Is this what falling in love feels like?
Why did I ask that?
As his laughter subsides, I take a pepperoni, popping it in my mouth to keep from overanalyzing that thought as he looks over at me. His eyes are dancing with amusement—but also lust—as they drink me in.
“I only see you.”
I sniff. “Well, I’d hope so since I’m the only one here, and there isn’t a mirror for you to gawk at your hotness in. Do you do that? Like, drink yourself in?”
Rolling his eyes, he chuckles. “Brat.” The grin on his face is beautiful as he rolls to his side, sliding his hand along my arm and then into my hand. “So anyway…” he starts and I grin.
“Tired of me yet?”
“Never.”
My grin grows as our fingers lace together, but then his phone sounds and he reaches down, pulling it out of his pocket. “Sorry, I forgot to turn it off.”
“It’s fine,” I say as he goes to shut it off, but then something must have caught his attention because he pauses, looking at the screen. His brows pull together as his lip comes between his teeth. “Everything okay?”
He nods. “It’s my dad.”
Oh. Okay, not that I thought it was some other girl and was insanely jealous or anything. That’s not me. Duh.
“He’s always calling and texting me now. I’m the only one who talks to him.”
“Why is that?”
He shrugs. “He’s my dad and I guess I still want him to be. But then I can’t let go of what he did to my mom.”
“Understandable.”
“But he gave me a whole bunch of money the other day, and he’s asking to come to my games and for me to go to dinner with him and his ho. I don’t know how to say no without being a dick. Because I did take his money.”
“Hm. Sounds like a pickle.” I know it’s not my place, but I want to help. “Maybe don’t take the money until you’re ready to forgive him?”
“I won’t forgive him, but I need the money. I hate not having money.”
