Page 24 of Busted Dreams

Rhys: In hockey, that’s very possible. I’ll look for you. *kissface*

Jonah raised a brow at my goofy grin and rosy cheeks. Maybe he’d at least think the extra color was from the cooler temperature.

Yeah, right.

“So, you and Beck, huh?”

And just like that, my good mood plummeted like a sad floaty filled with water.

I didn’t want to choose, but the sneaking suspicion that other people would judge me for dating more than one person lingered in my overactive mind. Other people’s opinions didn’t bother me so much as Jonah’s. Or Thatcher’s, although he wanted to date me too, even if he hadn’t asked me outright.

Or Trinity. How would his sister react if or when she found out I was dating all of her brother’s friends? Would it bother me to sit under her glare of contempt? Call me crazy, but I didn’t think she’d take to it too kindly.

“We had a date.” I studiously avoided his gaze as the music quieted just a fraction and the emcee came over the speakers.

“Okay, boys and girls. This is the game you’ve all been waiting for! The most anticipated match between our Fort Collins boys and the undefeated Grizzlies! Tonight’s a big night, so make sure you let your team know you support them by clapping, whooping, stomping. Let them know you’rehere!” The last word rolled on forever as the airhorn blasted and players shot out from each side of the glass.

Jumping, I screamed and clapped when I saw Rhys’ number enter the fray. My camera bag bumped against my hip, and I caught it before it accidentally got damaged. He did a quick sweep and grinned around his mouthguard when he spotted me.

Yes, I am totally avoiding Jonah’s question.

Sitting down, I assembled the short lens on my camera and snapped a few shots of Rhys, especially looking for shots where he looked our way. The seats had already filled up quite a bit, way more than they had at the last game. Once the cheering calmed down, I took my seat again, praying Jonah would let it drop.

He didn’t.

Turning to lay one arm behind my chair so he was fully facing me, he asked the last question I would have ever expected. “What are your intentions?”

Coughing on my spit, I pounded my chest and looked in the opposite direction, finding the milky brown eyes of an old man three seats over. It was creepy and weird as he watched me fight for air, but it was better than facing Jonah. It would actually make a great photo, showcasing unintentional judgment in society.

Eventually, I had to turn around, and Jonah was still there, watching me with a twinkle of amusement softening his features. That was significantly better than utter disdain or disgusted hate. And it was just what I needed to relax just a little bit. Growing up in the church where everything intimate was frowned upon outside of marriage, it was just instinctual to believe everyone would condemn me for my choices.

I was trying really hard to let go of it, but some things just took time.

“Well, I’ve offered my hand in marriage, but he hasn’t given me an answer yet,” I deadpanned, proud of myself for the smart-ass retort.

He barked out a short laugh. “Sounds about right. Although in this case, I think it would be Beck afraid of you leaving versus him stringing you along. Trust me, Astrid, he’s so infatuated, he can’t even think straight.”

The pit of my stomach heated at his words, and I couldn’t help the sweet satisfaction that suffused me. But all of the focus on my love life was a little unnerving coming from Jonah. Even Ryan made me uncomfortable sometimes, the way he zeroed in on the details. So I tried a new tactic. Redirection.

“Actually, I think that’s Ryan.” I chortled.

“Huh?” Confusion clouded Jonah’s face.

“You know Ryan’s gay? He can’t even think straight?” It was clear Jonah didn’t find my attempt at humor funny, or he didn’t get it, so I just mumbled, “Never mind,” under my breath.

At that moment, the lights dimmed and the spotlights raced around the arena as a nineties rap song boomed from the speakers. The bass thumped through my body, and the high of watching a sporting event assailed me. When Rhys had told me there was nothing like experiencing a game in person, I hadn’t believed him because why would it be any different for me when I’d never been into sports?

But it was. It was more than just wanting to support one of my best friends. It was a low hum of excitement in the air, permeating every person and corner of the arena, steadily ratcheting up until you almost feel compelled to cheer and yell with the best of them. It was just as powerful as Beck’s shows, just in a different way.

Jonah and I both stood up and screamed when they introduced Rhys’ number. He glanced over at us and raised a gloved hand right as I snapped another shot. A neon blue light flashed over him in the perfect moment. He was the epitome of cool confidence on the ice. All of these people cheering meant nothing to him once the game started.

It wasn’t until the end of the first period that the game wasn’t so much fun anymore. Rhys maneuvered the puck around several of the opposing team members, swift as the wind and just as hard to stop. Until hewasstopped.

A huge player from the other team came out of nowhere and slammed him against the glass so hard it shook. That was not a mistake; it was a deliberate hit, just to be an ass. Rhys spun around and dropped his hockey stick. There was one second of muted silence as Rhys and the other guy stared at each other.

Then all hell broke loose.

“Trinity, you better have your ass here in five minutes. You’re already ten minutes late. I’m not joking, I’ll set all your shit outside,” I seethed as I clicked the end button and threw my phone on the couch, where it bounced off and hit the floor at an angle.

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