Total pages in book: 30
Estimated words: 28709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 28709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 144(@200wpm)___ 115(@250wpm)___ 96(@300wpm)
I’ve got a girl to take care of now.
I’m still obsessing over this when we take the ice. I assume my position in front of the goal and get down on all fours to stretch, but I’m searching for Marlow in the crowd. It’s a high school arena, so it’s not huge. Just a few sets of bleachers. Not to mention, I know everyone in attendance at the game, from my teammates’ parents to fellow students. I should easily be able to spot her. I don’t, though.
My chest starts to tighten with all the unknowns.
Did she get caught sneaking out?
Why does she have to sneak out when she’s eighteen?
Did she already realize I’m not good enough for her?
The buzzer sounds to signal the end of warmups, and half the team leaves the ice, our opponents sizing us up, preparing for the puck drop. I sneak one final look up into the stands and Christ—there she is. Wearing a red turtleneck tucked into a white skirt, Marlow takes a seat in the front row of the center bleachers and blows me a kiss.
My heart squeezes up into my mouth.
I blow a kiss back at her, but it’s basically just me hitting myself in the facemask with my glove and awkwardly waving my stick. Nonetheless, she beams back at me. In fact, she looks at nothing but me the entire game. I don’t even think she’s watching the puck at all. Throughout the entire first period, every time I glance over at Marlow, she’s watching me with an expression of pure bliss on her face. This can’t be my reality, can it?
It's during the second period that things take a turn for the worse.
I really should have known it was only a matter of time before some motherfucker tried to hit on her. She’s stunning and fresh-faced and surrounded by a celestial glow of light. Of course, some guy in a letterman jacket sits down beside her and leans too close, holding up his phone. Probably asking for her Snapchat handle or phone number. My stomach gurgles with acid, possessiveness spearing up into my throat like molten metal. And it doesn’t settle at all, even when she shakes her head and ignores the guy. Because he doesn’t go away. He persists, making a grab for her hand.
It's a good thing we’re winning and the puck is on the other side of the ice, because I proceed to have an out-of-body experience. My helmet comes off and hits the ice with a violent crack. I’m skating full speed at the glass in front of Marlow before I register my own actions. I throw myself up against it with as much force as I can muster, which is a whole hell of a lot, and the resulting crash is like two buses colliding.
“MINE,” I roar, looking Letterman Jacket in the eye.
Everyone in the bleachers, including my target, jumps and screams.
Everyone but Marlow.
She doesn’t even flinch.
But her chest is rifling up and down, her mouth parted in surprise.
Regret slices into me like a knife.
Oh God, did I finally succeed in convincing her I’m scary?
No one else needs convincing, that’s for sure. I’ve cleared the entire section of bleachers, students, parents and faculty seemingly running for their lives, until all that remains is Marlow, who sits wide eyed with her hands folded in her lap.
“Colossal!” Garrett shouts, along with my team. And three coaches. “Get back in the fucking net!”
With no choice but to return to the game, I slide back into goal, just in time to block a shot. I’m silently willing the matchup to end, though, so I can apologize to Marlow for ruining her very first hockey game.
Chapter 6
Marlow
That. Was. Incredible.
My boyfriend is an impenetrable wall.
A superhero the likes of which I’ve never drawn. Until now.
I’m sitting in a coffee shop a couple blocks from the arena, pencil in hand, sketching madly in my unlined pad. As soon as the game ended, I ran out the side door, needing to get everything I saw on paper. Eric standing at least seven feet tall in his hockey skates. His knack for tossing aside his opponents to reach the puck, his strength effortless and godlike. The way he came to my rescue with enough vigor to empty the bleachers.
Superhero shit. Plain and simple.
I can barely sit still in my seat, my pencil creating panel after panel of scenes, complete with my perceived inner dialogue for Eric. Grunts and grrrs. I probably should be sneaking back into my bedroom window right now, but I can’t stop sketching. My lateness could really come back to bite me, too, because Jessie and Suzie are also out tonight. I saw them at the hockey game, albeit in a different section.
That being said, my stepmother makes me abide by a very different set of rules than my stepsisters. They’re allowed to come and go as they please to school functions and church, as long as their homework is completed. I’ve been instructed to stay in my attic room and keep my influence away from Jessie and Suzie. Ever since my stepmother unearthed my illustrations and saw the risqué contents, I have been unredeemable in her eyes. Sure, I don’t help my cause by refusing to stop putting my imagination on paper, but then again, my father doesn’t help my cause, either.