Page 58 of Boarded Hearts

Kate.

…

Talking.

To?

An attractive male.

So, you tried to make him jealous?

It just happened. I went to get a drink and the next thing I knew a tall, dark guy called…(okay I can’t remember his name), started talking with me.

Convenient.

Yes, very.

Anyway, whatever. He slept with someone else the day I tried to make my move and wear his jersey. I curled my hair and wore my best jeans and everything. I’m over it.

As long as you’re okay.

I am. Glad you are too, and trust me—all will be fine with Jon.

Ugh, if you say so. See you tomorrow?

Yeah, but I’ve got an appointment first thing. Lunch?

You read my mind.

XOXO

XOXO

An hour later I’m at the gym, killing myself on the treadmill. Anything to relieve stress and work off the copious calories I just inhaled courtesy of my ice cream addiction. I wasn’t lying when I told Jon I work out to Marilyn Manson. Somehow his angry and explicit vibes make me pound the treadmill harder. Intense, but I’ve never been able to come to the gym and “take it easy.” I guess it’s partly my way of coping when life gets a bit manic or tough. When my parents died, I practically lived in the cardio suite.

Returning home, I drop my gym tote to the ground along with my yoga mat. I always finish any gym session with ten minutes of stretching. It helps reduce sore muscles, and let’s be honest, I’m not exactly twenty-one anymore, so still being able to touch my toes is a win in my book.

I haven’t heard from Jon all evening, and I’m not surprised. The more I analyze my behavior and the way I went off at him, the more I’ve convinced myself he’s run for the hills. I could lie, trick myself into believing it’s for the best, but the truth is, if I never heard from him again, I’d be devastated. I never felt for Elliott what I feel for Jon. As clichéd as it may be, I now know precisely what they mean when they talk about butterflies and swooning. Jon Morgan embodies dream-man characteristics, and even if he doesn’t see it in himself, he is the ultimate catch. Not because he’s super wealthy, famous, or hot. Okay, maybe it’s a little bit to do with his abs. But rather because of everything I never expected him to be. Kind, caring, protective, and funny. Off the ice, he is so much more than what people see through the plexiglass, and I suspect he’s quickly become someone I could never live without, as scary as that thought is.

Knock knock.

I’m post-gym and pre-shower, which isn’t a great combination. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Maybe it’s Kate and Taylor with another round of wine and movie night? I’m hardly dressed for it in black Nike gym shorts and a matching sports bra. Throwing on a pink hoodie to cover up, I slide across the two deadbolts and swing the door open. It isn’t Kate and Taylor waiting for me on the other side, nor is it my friendly pizza delivery guy who I’ve been known to, once or twice, order from and then forget they’re coming.

It’s none of them.

“Alright, Mary.”

Jon stands at the entrance to my apartment, his arms above his head, braced on either side of my door frame. His biceps bulge and strain against the simple black T-shirt he’s since changed into. His tailored black jeans are clearly made to measure, hugging his thighs and calves to perfection. Let’s not mention the black backward cap he’s wearing, because I swear, he does it only to tease me, and it works. And those butterflies? Well yep, they’re here and doing the tango.

“Mary isn’t here; you must have the wrong place,” I reply, an involuntary smile breaking out over my face as I cross my arms and lean against my wall, giving him the space to enter. I’m excited but mostly relieved to see him, having convinced myself I’d blown whatever we had.

“Oh, she’s definitely here,” he remarks as he walks past me and into the hallway.

Kicking off his gray Converse, he pulls my body to his as he wraps an arm around my waist. His familiar spicy cologne sends shockwaves through my body, pooling at my heat, and I fall into his embrace.

Kicking the door shut behind him, he places a kiss on my forehead before dropping his to mine until our noses brush. “I’ve been over this so many times in my head.”

“Over what?”

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