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hate how it makes her feel different. Unwanted. Like she’s a burden
Bipolar
Fuck me. If Blakely wanted to mess with my head tonight, she’s successful.
“You look beautiful, Blake.”
“You mean like this one?” She puts it on and bats her lashes at me. “What do you think?” I think she looks like a wet dream. Like she cherry-picked every single thing I love about her and created the perfect woman with one caveat. She’s untouchable.
I swear I’m losing my fucking mind.
She’s so effortlessly beautiful. So quietly gorgeous. It’s the little things. The subtlety. The way she stands out because of it, even though she has no idea.
“Is there a problem, Teddy?” “No problem.” “You sure?” “What makes you think I have a problem?” “You’re being particularly pushy tonight.” “I’m always pushy,” I remind her.
“If I win, I get to kiss you.”
“Friends don’t kiss friends.” “I don’t want to be friends, Blake.”
“I don’t know what to say. We agreed––” “I lied.” “Theo––” “I want more than friends.” “But Colt––” “I’ve already talked to him. He’s okay with it.” “And Coach––” “He’d get over it,”
“If you miss, I get to kiss you.” “And if I hit it?” “Don’t hit it.”
You want me to prove it, Blake? You won’t know what hit you.
There’s a bag of cinnamon bears on the hood of my car along with a two-liter of orange soda. No note. But I don’t need it. Clearly, Teddy Taylor has struck again.
“To be fair, I used to have a different diet. It was boring. Everything tasted the same. Like shit,” he adds, driving his point home. Clearly, we aren’t talking about his eating habits anymore. “But after a taste of those cinnamon bears the other day?” He smirks down at me, his eyes heating a fraction. “Gotta say, I don’t think I could quit, even if you asked me to.”
A photo of Colt giving me two thumbs up while rolling his eyes appears along with a message. Theo: Colt gave me the green light to date you. Just so you know.
Theo: One cinnamon treat at a time ‘cause my girl likes to keep things spicy. ;)
Me: I’m not sure if you’ve been hit in the head one too many times, but I’m not your girl. Theo: You’ve always been my girl. Sorry it took me so long to see it.
“Don’t worry, man,” Tukani quips, oblivious to the side-bar I’m having with my older brother. He sets his fidget spinner back into his locker and slaps it closed. “We all know you’re in love with Colt. No need to make a big deal out of it.”
“Fine. I quit the team.”
A few murmured oh shits echo around the room,
Part of me wants to say yes. To beg him to let me come back and finish out the season. If he’d shown up thirty minutes earlier, I would have. But that was before my conversation with Bridger. Before I met a little boy who’d never had a Take 5. The boy with the broken family and a penchant for soccer. Before I felt needed. Before I felt like I could truly make a difference. An impact reaching a hell of a lot further than athlete recovery and injury prevention. Don’t get me wrong. Those things are still important, but in all my studying, all my experience from shadowing Russ, I never felt needed
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It’s funny. When his dad died, he dropped out of the NHL draft, even though he probably would’ve ended up being picked in the first round. But with him back on the ice, they were all anxious to sign him. I decided to wait and get some more playing time before making any decisions, slipping past the ECHL and choosing the NCAA instead.
My issue is that this has been said multiple times. It doesn't need to be said again.
“I’m serious, Kate. He doesn’t deserve you,” I tell her. “And who does?” she challenges. “Santa Claus? The Easter Bunny, maybe? Ooo, how about a fae lord in need of a human princess?”
“Nah. I already got what I wanted.” “Oh, really?” “Yeah.” “And what’s that?” His smile softens, but the crinkles around his eyes make my heart pitter-patter away. “You.”
Contract. Rockies. Bonus. Sign Here. His name is scrawled along the dotted black line.
Hey. I’ve gotten an offer from the Rockies, my dream team as a kid. How cool is that? Yeah, they’re a couple thousand miles away, but this is something I really want. What do you think, Blake? That’s what you’re supposed to say.”
Hell, yes! This is amazing, Teddy. I’m so excited for you.
Fun fact, Theo: it’s killing me too.
“This is why I was upset about the whole Coach firing me situation. Because you didn’t listen to me. You didn’t communicate with me. You didn’t respect my opinion.”
I’m determined to make our relationship work, this still hurts. It hurts a lot.
“Promise me we’re okay,” he growls. My eyes flick to his. “We’re okay.”
They're not okay
Except for the little tidbit about me potentially running into Theo at the game after our little blowup.
That wasn't really a blowup
I’m waiting for a lot of things. I’m waiting for Theo to show he cares. To prove he cares. To prove he wants this. Wants us. To prove he wants to communicate and grow and fight for our relationship. Is it too much to ask?
BRO he already did that!
I fight the urge to both laugh and cry as I reread his message over and over again. What the hell am I supposed to say? Because it feels like he’s running. Like he’s avoiding me. Like we’re riding out the last stretch of our relationship by steering clear of each other when all I really want is for him to hold me, to talk to me, and tell me I’m loved.
Have you maybe thought about the fact that you could be the problem?
Theo: Good. Be patient with me for a little longer, okay?
You're both dumb
I set my phone face down on the coffee table and turn on Happy Gilmore. Apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment. Then again, I’m in love with Theodore Taylor, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.
Girl *sigh*
But will I still love it? If hockey turns out to be the catalyst ending my relationship with Theo?
You're so dramatic
Don’t go, Theo.
You don't get to ask him that.
“Dance with me?”
If I was an onlooker, I'd feel so awkward
“Guess it’s grown on me.”
Called it
“Olive juice,
Over it
“Olive juice, Blakely.” My heart swells in my chest. “Olive juice, Teddy
So cringe
“Olive juice.”
My eye roll was especially dramatic this time
