Clipped by Love (Bellevue Bullies 2)
“But really, Jay, you’re doing right. I see no wrong in what you’re doing.”
“But it’s hard,” I admit and he nods.
“Because you like her.”
I don’t even deny it. I just stare at him as he goes on, “And that’s the hardest thing because I know you want to show her who’s boss, but you also want to see her succeed. It’s tough, dude. You’re in a shitty spot, but keep doing you.”
Looking down, I let out a breath through my nose. “Should I ignore her? Try to act like she’s not there?”
He scoffs, which makes me look up. “I’m pretty sure you’ve tried that and failed.”
I have. And man, it’s so hard. She doesn’t make it easy with those glossed-up fucking lips and banging-ass body. When I was watching the shower yesterday, I caught a glance of her naked ass and almost passed out from the mere sight of it. An ass. Really? I’m pathetic.
“I mean, have you told her how you feel?”
“She doesn’t do feelings,” I answer, looking up at him. “And when I threw at her that I wanted to have sex with her when she accused me of it, I thought she was gonna punch me.”
“She’s weird,” is his opinion and I nod.
“She isn’t normal. That’s for sure.”
“Which is why you like her,” Jude says, and I shake my head.
“Guess so. Glutton for punishment, eh?” I smile then, thinking of her sweet voice, and when I look up, Jude’s looking at me like I pulled a hockey stick out of my ass.
His brows come together and before he can ask, I say, “Don’t ask.”
He laughs before saying, “10-4, good buddy. But remember, just keep it up. It sounds like the captain spot is yours.”
For as much as I want it, hearing him say that does make me feel better, but it doesn’t ease my worries about Baylor. She isn’t going to make it easy. Not for the captainship or even life.
She may have been born to play hockey, but she was put in my life to make me a wreck.
And the sadistic thing is that I like the way it feels.
While yesterday I wanted to protect Baylor, today, I want to kill her.
“When I pass you the puck, you put your stick down and stop it!”
Looking across the ice at me, she yells, “I know you aren’t talking to me.”
“You’re the only person on this ice missing my passes, so yeah, I am talking to you.”
“You’re delusional,” she snaps, and then she is skating toward me. Everyone has stopped, probably to watch the show. We’ve been at it all day. I mean, the crazy chick tried to check me. I’m on her fucking line! She’s fucking insane. Looking up at me through her cage, her eyes in slits, she screams back, “How am I supposed to stop a pass that is above my head? Or even ten feet away from me?”
“Get in front of it! You’re just standing there. Like a fucking princess, expecting everyone to just cater to you. You have to work around these parts, sweetheart. We don’t cater anyone.”
“Princess!” she sputters, and, of course, that’s the only part she hears. “The only fucking princess I see is you. By the way, maybe you should wear pink instead of teal.”
“You would know all about colors, huh, princess? Being a girl and all,” I snap back, when really, I don’t even know why. It wasn’t a good retort, but then I say, “You’ve been fucking up all day. I’m your teammate, treat me like one, or get the fuck out of here.”
“You don’t know shit. If you want me to treat you like a teammate, act like one instead of fluttering around and swinging your stick everywhere!”
“Fluttering? Not your teammate? I’ve been your teammate since the moment you stepped on my ice! I don’t know what you’re thinking, but stop being a girl and act like the dude you keep trying to portray.”
“I’m not portraying anyone. I’m being me.”
“Princess, you’re so far from being yourself, it’s scary. Play the fucking game,” I say before shaking my head. Her eyes are blazing, and I know mine are too. There is so much tension between us and I know it’s about to burst, but what can I do? I can suggest something because, in my mind, I’ve already ripped off her helmet and kissed her, but I know if I try that, she’ll knock my teeth out.