Spiral (Off the Ice, #2) (23)
But this time, it’s not about our parents, it’s about my miserable love life, and I don’t need to tell my little brother about that. “I’m always happy, bud.”
From the way his lips thin, he knows I’m lying, and this time he pushes. “I mean, like for real. The ‘in love’ kind of happy.”
“What would you know about that?” I quirk a brow, and he shrugs sheepishly. “I’m not in love, but I’m happy. I have ballet and you.”
“And Eli.”
Elias is so far removed from my real life that everything in the media feels like a fever dream. I’ve even stared at the picture of us from our date a thousand times, still unconvinced that it’s me. The happy, smiling girl who let him carry her like she felt safe enough to let go of control—she doesn’t feel like me.
“Yeah, him too.”
After Sean fills me in on school, I let him off the call only to have a Hugger notification snatch my attention. The bright orange logo of the dating app makes me cringe, and I swirl back to last night’s reckless activities.
When Elias said we’d never work, I came home and downloaded every dating app possible. It may have been fueled by a bitter, resentful part of me, but at the time it seemed like a great idea. After looking at a total of sixty guys and losing hope with each swipe, one caught my attention, and I messaged him to continue my string of bad decisions.
However, the bad decision is looking extremely attractive right now. Derek’s message asks if I’m available for a date tonight, and I’m surprised that I’m considering it. The chunk of self-confidence that escaped me after Elias’s refusal almost fuses itself back in place.
Because the only logical thing to do when an irritatingly attractive man rejects you is to find another one.
ELEVEN
ELIAS
Bunny Patrol
Kian Ishida: WTF was that interview?
Aiden Crawford: One minute he’s sulking in the car, the next he’s declaring his love on a live broadcast.
Dylan Donovan: Who is this girl? I’ve never seen Eli so worked up.
Kian Ishida: Never? Did you forget the time we accidentally broke his precious Staub pans trying to play ping pong?
Sebastian Hayes: He confiscated our phones for a week like we were teenagers.
Cole Carter: He even refused to make me breakfast. I was living on beans.
Sebastian Hayes: We know.
Our afternoon game ended in a loss, and yet another game without a goal from me. No surprise there. In the highlight clips I watched before bed, Marcus Smith-Beaumont shook his head when I missed. My assists are no longer enough to keep me afloat. It’s like a fucking curse, and now I feel desperate to break it. Desperate enough to put myself in a relationship on national television with a girl who doesn’t even want to talk to me.
At least, that’s what I’m telling myself, because nothing can justify the reaction I had in front of those reporters. It was so visceral, I couldn’t just sit there and let them speculate about a girl who doesn’t deserve anything negative said about her. After I left the conference hall, Mason just stared at me, speechless, until I had to head into the locker room before the game.
I didn’t bother reliving my words for Aiden. He found out on his own after the game, and laughed at me like a fucking clown. He even replayed the audio from the clip on the Bluetooth.
Today, as I head out of my morning physical therapy session, everyone knows about it, hence the stream of texts and pictures of the guys laughing while watching the interview.
As I hop into my car, Coach Kilner’s encouraging text is the first thing I see. Well, encouraging only if you know the inner workings of our college hockey coach.
You didn’t play like shit yesterday. Get that damn goal already.
I’m sure he saw the interview or one of the guys showed it to him, and this is his way of bringing my focus back to the game. Or at least trying to show me that that is what matters.
An incoming call rings in the car. I answer it and turn up the volume. “I try to stay away from tabloids, Eli, you know I do. But when my son declares his relationship status on live television, I’m bound to hear about it.”
I curse under my breath, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“Hey, no cursing. Your father and I want to know what’s going on with you.”
“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking straight. It’s nothing serious.”
My dad barks out a laugh. “If it wasn’t, it sure as hell is now. That girl will be waiting on a wedding ring with that kind of declaration, son.”
Either a ring or her fists. It depends on how much I just screwed up. “Trust me, it’s really not like that.”
“However it is, we want to meet her. You better bring her home during your offseason.”
“After game seven,” adds my dad. “We want to see that cup in your hands.”
My dad isn’t a hockey fanatic, but he likes to pretend he is for my sake.
I chuckle weakly. “That’s the plan.” Once they’ve caught me up on their day and I don’t spill about the ultimatum, I hang up and look at my texts to see that Sage hasn’t messaged. I’m sure she’s seen the interview.
Dropping my phone in the console, I pull out of my parking spot. But as I merge onto the highway, I realize Weston isn’t far from here. Before I know it, I take the exit toward Sage’s apartment. I need to see her.