Page 95 of Playing the Pucking Game
There’s a part of me that wonders if she’s waiting for me to tell her not to date him and to hang out with me instead.
But I can’t do that. Not only would Rett kick my ass into next year, but she deserves so much better.
Not Seth, but definitely someone better than me.
Her eyes narrow, waiting for me to finish my explanation.
“I just thought someone should see you off on your big night,” I say lamely.
She shakes her head. “We’re just going to the movies. It’s no big deal.”
But it is. I haven’t taken a girl to the movies.
I just…
The less you think about that right now, the better.
“It’s your first date, little P. Someone needs to be here to warn Seth to treat you right.”
“I’m sure Rett has slammed him into the boards enough times already for him to be aware of what’ll happen if he screws this up.”
And yet, he was still brave enough to chance his luck.
Plexiglass is going to be the least of his worries if he fucks this up.
My words dry up as she moves closer—although I soon discover it isn’t me she’s getting closer to, but the window.
As she stands there, I can see the excitement glittering in her eyes for what the night might hold.
“He’s not good enough for you,” I finally blurt.
“Oh, and did you have someone in mind who might be?”
She turns to me and holds my eyes.
Is she…is she begging for me to say yes, to tell her to go out with me instead?
No, that’s just my twisted imagination.
“I don’t think there’s anyone walking this Earth who is worthy of you, Parker Donnelly.”
Her breath catches at the honesty in my words.
Her reaction is everything, but it isn’t going to change anything.
She’s still going out with him tonight, and I’ll spend all evening wondering what they’re doing, guessing if he made a move and kissed her.
“That’s sweet. But even if it’s true, I’m not going to sit around the house experiencing nothing. So…”
She fully turns to the window this time, and I get to see that I was right. Her dress exposes her entire back.
Her skin is flawless, her shoulders covered in the same cute freckles her nose and cheeks are, although they’ve lessened over the years since I met her.
The fabric begins just above her ass, and my fingers twitch to reach out and drag my knuckles along the seam.
I glance at the clock. He’s due to pick her up any minute.
Is there any point in hoping that he’s going to stand her up?
