Page 80 of A Little Crush
RORY
“You sure you don’t want to come?” my mom asks. A cute little painted lion sits on her left cheek as she slips on a light jacket.
The sight only confirms my decision. “Yeah, I’m sure. You guys have fun, though.”
I’ve been vegging out in the basement all day. Okay, hiding out is probably a more fitting term, but is it my fault I can’t stop reliving my kiss in the rain with a certain someone I’d rather not think about?
“It’s the opening game,” my dad chimes in from the stairs.
“I’m aware.”
“And you don’t want to come?” he prods. “We have the suite?—”
“We always have the suite,” I remind him dryly. It’s one of the perks of him owning the team. “But seriously, I’m okay,” I continue. “I have a lot to catch up on anyway.”
My dad gives me an unimpressed look. “Like what? Poppy’s with her mom this week?—”
“Rory, you’re fine,” my mom interjects, defending me. “Wejust love you, that’s all. Mind if we leave Mufasa with you and Hades?”
“Not at all.” I pat the empty cushions on both sides of me. “Plenty of room for snuggles. And don’t worry, Dad. I’ll make sure to cheer the team on from here. Promise.”
His expression doesn’t budge. If anything, it deepens, causing a slight wrinkle between his brows and a subtle tilt of his head that only the people who know him best would notice. “Mm-hmm,” he grunts. “First Mav and Lia bail, and now you. It’s like you guys don’t even like hockey anymore.”
“Laying on the guilt trip pretty thick, don’t you think?” my mom quips.
He gives her a pointed look. “Who’s side are you on, anyway?”
With a smirk, she kisses his cheek. “Yours, obviously.”
“Mm-hmm,” he repeats as if he doesn’t believe her.
Bringing the focus back on the conversation instead of how annoyingly adorable my parents act with each other even after all these years, I point out, “To be fair, Mav and Lia are on their honeymoon for like the next twenty weeks?—”
“Six,” my mom clarifies. “It’s six weeks, and only two are for their honeymoon. The other four are being spent in Haiti. But your daughter’s right, Professor.” She slips her arm around his bicep, stealing his attention and covering for me by handling him like a pro. “I’m pretty sure they’d love to be here if they could. Now, give your daughter a break. She’s allowed to have some downtime on her week off.”
Too stubborn to give in right away, he quirks his brow, then drops a quick kiss to his wife’s forehead. “You’re right.”
“I’m always right,” she teases.
With a subtle shake of his head, he steals his arm back and moves closer to where I’m planted on the couch like a bump on a log. “Love you, Squeaks.”
He kisses my forehead the same way he did my mom’s,and I preen like a little girl. “Love you, too. Wish the team luck for me.”
“We will.”
As they retreat, I reach for the remote on the coffee table and turn the television to ESPN, keeping my promise to watch the entire game even if it kills me. It’s not that I don’t like hockey. I love hockey. And if I wasn’t still reeling from my kiss with Jaxon, I would’ve had my mom paint my face just like when I was little, so I could be front and center, cheering the Lions on. But alas. Here I am. Hiding. And annoyed that I’m hiding. With a huff, I grab my laptop, determined to distract myself. It only stays open for about ten minutes before I give up and snuggle with the pups instead.
It’s a good game.
Crowther scores once in the first period, and Reeves scores twice in the third. Neither goal would’ve happened without Everett’s assistance. Add in a couple solid fights and a crazy call on Griff with four minutes on the clock, and I’m on the edge of my seat the entire time. I even manage to not drool over a certain coach anytime his stupid face comes on the screen.
Maybe I have a backbone after all.
As soon as the thought filters through me, a flashback from the banquet rears its ugly head, and I’m left reeling all over again.
“You bring a date tonight?” Eric asks.
Jaxon shakes his head. “Nah, I’m not seeing anyone.”
