Page 152 of Falling Offsides

I follow behind him. Grateful that everyone is occupied preparing for the afternoon.

When we get to the equipment room, Dad grabs one of the first tops that comes to hand. A jersey from the ironing pile.

He tosses it to me with a nod to the bathroom across the way. “It’ll do.”

“Thank you,” I catch it midair and run across the hallway as he tells me, “I’ll see you out on the ice.”

Close the door behind me when he disappears down the corridor and lock it so that I can rinse the sticky, fruity smell off me before I put the jersey on.

The jersey.

“Oh no. Fuck my life,” I grumble into the mirror as I catch the large 74 on the back with Jayden’s surname across the top.

I eye the soda on my shirt. Then the jersey.

Could I wait it out a bit for my shirt to dry? Nope, not a chance. I have to be out, rink side in five minutes and I still have to go grab my camera bag from the office.

With a huff, I accept my fate like the idiot I am. Every single time we get a drink from that damn vending machine Dad reminds me to wait before I open it. Every freaking time. And I always forget.

Tugging my t-shirt off, I pull the jersey on. It’s huge.

Jayden is huge—tall and broad… and his jersey is drowning me as I pull at the hem and attempt to make it fit better by tying it into a knot around my hips.

It doesn’t matter what I do to it, it feels wrong. But I don’t have a choice and there is a little spark… a teeny tiny fizz in my chest that is a little, tiny bit thrilled to see Auguste’s reaction.

And yes, I know it’s a bad idea the second I walk out the door. I know it’s a bad idea when I walk down the tunnel to the bench.

But what really seals the deal is when all heads turn my way, and every single guy on the team is silent.

Jayden shakes his head at me with a groaned curse as he gets up and jumps the board onto the ice. Eli follows, Erik… Oliver… Ansel… even Dylan hops the boards clumsily in all his goalie gear. Leaving only one person. One man, staring daggers at the numbers on my sleeves.

Auguste.

He says nothing as he gets up and walks the length of the bench towards me. He says zilch when he pauses and gives me a head-to-toe nod. Not a single word or sound leaves his mouth while he backs away onto the ice, skating backwards across the rink, towards Jayden. Eli steps between them, defending his partner from their center.

I have no idea what is said, but Matheo and Erik are there in a flash, motioning to the guests watching them.

Thankfully the coaching team joins them and that seems to diffuse the situation. Momentarily at least.

The silence is endless.I keep checking my phone for a reply to my message telling Auguste I’m on my way home. Not that he asked me to let him know, but he’s waited for me pretty much every day for weeks and now we’re…something.

I think.

He asked me to be his until I leave. That’s something, right?

I swipe out of our message thread, and focus on the call with Delilah.

“Long distance relationships are a thing. Lots of people have them, and he’s proven he’s into watching you and you’re obviously into it too, so?—”

“So, that’s not what we agreed.” Sometimes I wish I kept my mouth shut instead of telling Delilah every detail of my life.

But she’s one of the only people that’s always been honest with me. That’s never screwed me over, and I’m realizing lately that there’s a lot of those people in my life.

Which is why I poured my chaotic heart out to her about Auguste. Because in spite of everything he’s done, he’s always been there when I needed someone. When I didn’t know I neededhim. Every time I pushed him away he always came back.

Auguste has shown me and regaled me with more grace than I havegiven myself. And it’s a quality I’m finding really fucking rare in people at present.

“Honestly, I think it’ll be a waste if you don’t give whatever the two of you have a chance. And maybe after the way things started with the two of you, putting it to the test with distance isn’t a terrible thing.”

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