Page 27 of The Goalie

I smirked. “That’s an understatement,” I said.

“Exactly.” He looked back down at the pillow and started smoothing out the wrinkles on the case. “But I just…I can’t help but feel certain things about you. I don’t know if it’s love, but…” He let his voice trail off. “The way my feelings changed so quickly… I wasn’t expecting it. At all.”

“I know what you mean.” I spread my fingers on the sheet underneath me. I didn’t know why, but it was hard to look at him when I was telling him these things, like I was worried this was some sort of joke he was pulling on me. Like this wasn’t real.

“I haven’t felt this way before, to be honest. I honestly have no idea what I’m doing or how to do this at all. I’ve never been a relationship guy. I don’t like putting effort into things I don’t care about.” He lifted his eyes. “But I’ve realized, over the course of the past two days, that I care about you. A lot.”

I held my breath. I didn’t know why this mattered to me. Hearing him say it. I shouldn’t care. I should be the cool girl who didn’t need I love yous or to talk about feelings. As Josh liked to point out, I was boring, which meant I was predictable.

But honestly? I didn’t care. Not anymore.

I liked who I was. I liked that Dan liked who I was.

“I need you to say something here,” he said. “I don’t want to come across like some kind of asshole.”

“You’re always going to be an asshole, Dan,” I teased. “Nothing you do or say is going to change that.”

He chuckled and leaned into me, kissing my shoulder. “You like it.” A statement, not a question.

What a dick.

“I can neither confirm nor deny…” He cut me off with a kiss.

“You like me,” I said when he pulled away.

He shook his head. “I don’t even think it’s that,” he said. “I think, when it comes to you, it’s more. When we were in school together up until my birthday, I thought I hated you. Not just disliked you, but full-blown hated you. And now? I more than just like you. I’m not sure if I want to call it love. I think that might be too…”

“Crazy?”

He grinned. “Something like that.” He brushed my hair away from my face and gave me a gentle smile. “But this whole thing with you is crazy. Unexpected. So maybe love isn’t completely out of the realm of possibility.”

I let myself absorb his words, let myself think about what he said and how I felt about what he said. It wasn’t bad. I wasn’t scared the way I thought I would be. If anything, I was warm and open to the idea that this was more than just sex and friendship, that this could be a relationship that ended in…

God, I hadn’t even thought of the future, had I? After Josh, I was scared to. I didn’t want to.

But with Dan…

“Granted, you’d actually have to show up to hockey games,” he said, tilting his head to the side and raising his brows. “Not just when Lucy is there, either. You’d actually have to come and cheer for me.”

I pretended to choke. “I’m sorry,” I said, fanning myself, “I just threw up a little bit. In my mouth.”

“I know, the idea sounds so foreign,” he said matter-of-factly. “But I think I can peel you off the couch, toss you in the shower, and pull on something other than pajama bottoms to come out and root for your boyfriend.”

“Oh, so you’re my boyfriend now?” I arched a brow.

“It sounds trite, I know, but man-friend doesn’t have the same appeal I thought it would,” he said. He kissed my cheek, my jaw, my neck. I closed my eyes and melted into the bed. “So? Will you do it?”

“Show up to your games?” I asked. I tried to make more of an effort to speak to him, but it was difficult to catch my breath at all. “Yeah, I could make an effort. But only for you.”

“I meant be my girlfriend.”

I stilled. My eyes popped open. I pushed myself up in a sitting position.

“Are you sure?” I asked. “You don’t have to decide right away, you know. You could wait and make sure. You could date me for a few months and see how I really am. We don’t have to get serious right now if you don’t want to.”

“Look,” he said, his face turning red for some strange reason. He scratched the back of his head awkwardly, almost as though he wanted to do something so he could avoid looking at me. “It wasn’t one of my finer moments, but when I told you you were mine, I wasn’t kidding.”

“I’m sorry?” I started playing with the ends of my hair, which was much better than calling him a misogynist and accusing him of treating me like property. In the bedroom, when we were connected like that, I could admit that I liked it. Probably more than I should.

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