Page 25 of Hockey Halloween
I rise to my feet, stopping inches away from her but still crowding her personal space. The nice thing to do would be to step backward, but I’m not a nice guy. The only thing I’ve got to lose is the chance of getting to know her better. She doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who fabricates and spreads rumors. “It can’t be more embarrassing than wearing a pumpkin on your head.”
“It’s not that bad,” she tries, but she can’t say it with a straight face. “Still no.”
My mind attempts to fill in the pieces. “You’re friends with Fairley-Ferguson, so it must have been when McGuire lived here. Was it a party?”
She cocks her head to the side. “Why is everyone their last name to you?”
I open my mouth to answer, but think better of it. “How badly do you want to know?”
“Not badly enough for me to tell you my secret, if that’s your angle.”
Busted. She’s too smart, another reason she’s out of my league.
I chuckle. “Darn, but I had to try. Want a beer?” I use the bottle opener on the wall and open both, handing her one. She accepts it tentatively, but doesn’t take a sip. “Do you not drink beer?”
She shrugs one shoulder. “On occasion.”
“Would you prefer something else?” I didn’t give her an option to choose what she wanted, deciding by grabbing the beers I wanted. I am failing at being any good at this. Whateverthisis.
“I’m not much of a drinker.”
“Too many bad experiences?” I guess. When her skin paleswhiter, I’ve hit the nail on the head. “But it’s college. Don’t we all?” I’ve had my fair share of drunken nights, made a fool out of myself, even got a DWI. I’m not proud of them, but they all taught me something.
“One awful experience was enough for me.”
“So what’s your nonalcoholic drink of choice? I’m sure we’ve got something downstairs for you.”
“Iced tea lemonade.”
I question her with a quirk of my brow. “Really?”
“Yep. Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
Suddenly, I’ve got an inkling to try it.
Delia
I’ve lost count of how many times Xavier has grabbed me by the wrist tonight to take me somewhere other than our current location.
I’ve also lost count of how often I’ve swooned when he does it.
How his callused fingers feel against my skin.
How I haven’t once put up a fight.
“Coming through. Coming through,” he shouts as he guides me back to the kitchen. The other partygoers move out of his way, like a parting of the Red Sea. I don’t miss the envious looks of a few of the other girls. The ones who are only here hoping to get laid by a hockey player. They probably don’t even care which one. If they even know the difference between them.
On one side of the kitchen, a variety of drinks lines a table. It’s mostly cans of alcohol, but much to the delight of Xavier, there’s a pitcher of lemonade and a container of iced tea.
Dropping my hand, he grabs two red cups and faces me. “Ice or no ice?”
“Ice. Who knows how long these have been sitting out?”
He points his finger to his nose. “Valid.” He scoops ice into one cup and shows it to me. At my nod, he mimics the action in the second cup. “Half of each?”
“One-third iced tea, two-thirds lemonade. Tea first,” I explain. Even though he’s consulting me, I don’t expect him to get the ratio correct, but he pours iced tea into one cup, assesses the amount, and again shows it to me. “Great.”
Like a child being rewarded for doing something good, a grin breaks out on Xavier’s face, showcasing his one dimple. It rarely pops out because he has a way of smiling without letting it show. I consider myself lucky every time it makes an appearance. My belly flips in anticipation.
