Page 118 of Her Goal
I wince because she’s sunny and bright and he tends toward cloudy. “Less so.”
“Maybe back in the day you were a black cat, or that was all for show when you were around Hunter, when in reality, you’re a kitten.” Cara playfully claws the air.
“Are you saying Hudson is like a lion?” Emerson asks, not quite tracking with the conversation.
“More like a golden retriever.” Gracie explains the romance love interest trope about how one partner has independent and mysterious feline vibes and the other is like an energetic and bombastic puppy.
“See, we are different. Gracie, you said it yourself that sometimes opposites don’t attract.”
“You’re more alike than different. Anyway, to be precise, you’re a kitten and he’s a full-grown pooch, not a puppy.”
I nod, understanding the distinction.
Margo says, “Have you seen those adorable compilation videos, like a big ole golden retriever and a calico snuggled up?”
“Have I seen them? They’re partly to blame for me rebelling against sleep.”
“There will be no sleeping tonight. Whoever dozes off first is getting attacked with pillows.” Ella claps her hands together and the festivities begin, closing the convo on Hudson and me ... for now.
As Heidi gives me a mani and pedi, I can’t stop thinking about how in high school I’d been pining over the wrong brother. I’d always just been one of the guys. Now I’m also one of the girls.
Cara nudges me with her elbow. “Looks to me like you have your hockily ever after if you want it.”
From the living room, Delaney hollers, “Ladies, the puck is about to drop.”
We gather around the television, armed with snacks and drinks and a game to play every time the Knights score a goal.
“Wait. What is Robo doing on center ice?” Whit asks.
“I hope Jack isn’t hurt.” Ella blinks slowly with worry as we study the screen.
He spins in a slow circle as the camera pans, zooming in on him as the crowd chants, only it doesn’t sound like they’re saying Robo or Knights.
“What are they saying?” Emerson asks.
“Sounds like, ‘Say Yes.’”
We’re all perplexed, then the camera captures Hudson holding up a sign. The girls read it aloud.
It’s my goal to take you to HoCo. Can we stick together?
I die because there’s no way his mother made that like so many of the other guys back in high school who had their mom do the crafty work. He did it himself with markers, glitter, glue, and construction paper.
Right then, someone knocks on the door. We all startle and Ella answers. The courier in the period dress and wig enters with a cameraman next to him. He holds a white box tied with a pink ribbon. “A gift for Miss Smith.”
We’re all stunned into silence.
“I think you’re supposed to say yes,” Whit whispers.
I think I was also supposed to say yes when Hudson presented me with the black diamond surrounded by sparklyones. I was wrong. Ishouldn’thave said yes because that implies an obligation. Rather, Iwantedto but was afraid.
Inside the box is a silky, golden A-line gown with a V-neck and little pointelle leaves that flutter from the shoulder, artfully along the bodice, and then to the skirt. I realize it’s for me to wear to the Cobbiton hockey homecoming game.
Yep, I am definitely living an alternate timeline of my life.
35
HUDSON
