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“Pretty sure I wanted to bark when I saw her for the first time,” I say. “It’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine. I’m either going to charm the pants off of her so she has no choice but to like me, or I’m going to annoy her so much, she’s going to demand a trade.”
“Besides, how hard can it be to play on an NHL team? Boys do it.” “Yeah. Boys do it. Thanks, Piper.” I reach over my shoulder and squeeze her hand. “I mean it. Thank you for being here.”
A smile—the tiniest, faintest smile I’ve ever seen—pulls at her lips, and I’m the proudest motherfucker in the world. I want to set off a confetti cannon. Hang a banner from the rafters of the Civic Center that says I MADE EMERSON HARTWELL SMILE. Put it on a T-shirt and wear it around town.
That earns me another half smile from her, and I want to collect them all. Shove them in my pocket and keep them for myself.
“I was using the photos as a dartboard. Your face was the bull’s-eye.” “Did you hit your target?” “Right between the eyes. Every time.” “Atta girl,” I say,
It’s a giant fuck you to anyone who’s ever made us feel two inches tall—in sports, in life, in a relationship—because we deserve so much more.
“Good. You’ve had enough ice time today, and I’m cutting you off.” “And if I don’t agree?” “I’ll throw you over my shoulder and carry you out of here,” he tells me without hesitation. “I don’t think you could lift me.” “Is that a challenge, Red?”
He did throw on a hat on the quick drive from the arena then had the fucking audacity to turn it backwards on his head when he parked his Mercedes in the gravel lot out front.
I’ve always considered myself a feminist, but there’s something so goddamn sexy about a man in a backwards hat that has me ready to drop to my knees for the patriarchy.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “You said you wanted me on my knees.” He drops a kiss to my shin, then kneels on the ground in front of me. “And I’ve always liked being a good boy.”
I might only have her for one night—an hour at best—but I’m going to ruin her so badly no one will ever measure up to me.
But as long as it still makes your heart beat, you have to keep showing up. You don’t give up on the things you love just because they get hard.”
“What’s your question, Red?” “When is your birthday?” “June fifteenth. When is yours?” “August sixth.”
“But I imagine you’re what heaven feels like, so I’m a converted man.”
“A burger sounds great.” She closes her eyes and sways to the beat of the music. “In-N-Out. Don’t they have In-N-Out here?” “I think that’s just a West Coast American thing.” Piper groans. “Damn geography. Dammit all to hell.”
“I really can’t convince you to come, can I?” “Nope. I have some ice cream in the fridge, I’m going to open a bottle of wine, I’m reading a romance book that’s making me kick my feet. What more can you ask for?”
I started that book too, and I had to force myself to put it down. I know it’s fictional, but it’s making me believe in love again. Is that silly?”
“You are allowed to cry, but you’re not allowed to cry over shitty men. They don’t deserve your love and attention, let alone your tears.”
“A Crunchwrap Supreme is never going to fuck you over. I support that decision.”
“Is the rest of me pretty?” “So fucking pretty, baby. I like that you have nice things.”
“I told you that you’ve only been with boys, not men. Men want you to spend your hard-earned money. They want you to wear those heels, Emmy girl, because you look like a goddess in them.”
I never really felt like I had a home. But with Emmy next to me, I think home is wherever she is. A place I’d like to stay forever.
and when I relax, his grin is proud. “There you go. That’s my girl.”
I think I might have a chronic condition brought on by Emerson Hartwell.
“It’s a fucking honor and a privilege to play beside you. There was never any doubt about who I wanted to represent. It’s you, and it’s always going to be you.”
Where are all the good men?” Lexi groans. “I’m thirty-one. There aren’t any winners left.”
He bought me flowers and cooked me potatoes three different ways for dinner. He answers my texts almost the second they go through, and after I told him I was craving a sweet tea, he went to four different stores until he found the brand I like.
“It’s been going on since November and—” “November? That’s months ago!” “Time flies when you’re getting fucked,” Lexi says, and I can’t help but laugh.
like someone reaches into my chest and squeezes my heart whenever she’s nearby. I get warm and tingly when she touches me, and every time she laughs, I swear to god I’m floating.
Is it the way to tell people that when I look at her, I see the sun and the moon and all the fucking stars?
