Page 8 of Icing Hearts

He rolls his eyes, not bothering to hide his perpetual annoyance. “You and your rules, Charity.”

“If you’re referring to my superior etiquette and manners, then thank you.” I think he’s going to leave it at that because he goes silent, bouncing his knee against the table. I ignore the laminate wood jiggling my arms as I sift through my binder for notes.

Finally, he pulls his own work out and I’m relieved to find that he’s taken notes on at least one of the assigned readings for the project.

“Oh! You did the work?”

“Yeah, sorry, I only finished one of the readings. I had to work out after our session yesterday and then Coach has us doing two-a-days this week until the first game tomorrow.”

“No, it’s fine. I didn’t think you were gonna do anything, to be honest.”

“Wow. Okay.”

“Sorry, I—”

“Don’t be. Anyway, I was thinking, you should become a manager for the hockey team. One of the managers graduated last year and Coach Anderson hasn’t bothered to find anyone. You go to all the games, so I’m guessing you know the sport pretty well. You’re already obsessed with me. Plus, it’s a paid position.”

“It’s paid? How much? You should’ve led with that.” I play it cool, but my heart flutters. Despite the fact that I pester Tory with over-the-top flirting, I do care about him.

“I thought you didn’t discuss money.”

I give Tory a leveling look, and his lips twist into a smirk. “Trust me, it pays enough.”

“Would you actually be willing to spend more time with me, Tory? I didn’t think you’d be that easy to win over.” I check a nonexistent watch. “Only two total hours of working on this project. Might be a new record for me.”

“Forget I said anything.”

“Nope. Too late now. You want to hang out with me. Youlove me.”

Tory hangs his head back and covers his face with a groan. “What have I done?”

“I’ll tell you what youshoulddo.”

His mouth gapes as his eyes fly to mine, a knowing smirk across his lips. “You got a dirty mouth, Clara.”

“Get your mind out of the gutter. That’s not what I was going to say, Tory. I was simply going to request that you speak to your coach on my behalf.”

“I have a feeling I’ll regret this.”

“Please?”

“Fine. But keep this between us, Charity. Can’t have anyone thinking I’ve gone soft on you.”

Given how my father feels about the Amato family, hiding this will be in my best interest as well.

I clap twice and say, “It’ll be our little secret, then. How fun!”

“Oh, joy.”

We spend the next two hours working on the project and make a good bit of progress. One more session and we will be done. In hindsight, I should have dragged this out. It was foolish to focus on our work when the object of my desires is dangling in front of me like a carrot. When it’s time to go, he waits for me to pack up my things and says, “That’s for you, by the way.” Gesturing to the paper bag from earlier.

I look inside. There’s a fruit bar and a banana. My words feel strangled in my throat, and I flush from my collarbone to my ears, but I manage to choke out, “Oh, thanks, Tory.” He hikes one shoulder to his ear, and we walk out together. Tory doesn’t offer me a ride. Not that I expect him to, but pulling up to the station with him would be too risky.

The three-mile walk to the station passes in a blur. Despite the chill of the onyx evening, my insides are warmer than Boca Raton in July. All season with Tory? Plus, I get to be away from home. As delightful as this all sounds, I’m also apprehensive. Part of why this works so well is that my behavior pushes Tory away, discourages him from getting to know me on any real level. Things are nearly perfect the way they are. But I need the money. And it sounds fun. And I do love hockey. I might have started watching for Tory, but I’ve stayed a fan for the sport itself. I’m sure it will all work out fine.

It’s game day. The first game of the season, actually. Everyone in school is buzzing. Of course we’re going to win. It’s a Friday and the whole county will be at this game. There’s a party at Tory’s afterward, and tomorrow afternoon, we’re meeting to finish our project.

Today is my first official day as a hockey manager. I’m not really sure what I’ll be doing, but I know I need to be at the rink an hour before the game starts and to ask for one of the other managers named Clover Williams. My name should have been Clover. My mom was quite the hippie. She would have loved the name Clover.

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