Page 49 of Puck of the Irish

“Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll be here dad. Love you.” With that I hang up, not waiting to hear if he says it back. I close my eyes and lean my forehead against the cool glass. A second later, strong arms wrap around me from behind and AJ rests his chin on my head.

“You alright?”

I sigh and turn in his arms, snaking my hands up his chest and around the back of his neck.

“I am, actually. I’ve thought through all of this a lot and until he can accept my life as-is and understand that he doesn’t get to make decisions for me anymore, then we aren’t going to have a real relationship. It sucks since he’s all I have left, but this is what’s right for me. Sometimes you have to draw lines even when they fucking hurt.”

“Well, I’m proud of you,” he says. “That has to be hard as hell and I don’t know if I’d have the balls to do it if I were you, honestly.”

“Lucky for you, you’ll never have to. Your parents are proud of you no matter what you decide to do.” I start a list. “Fail miserably at musical theater, become a star hockey player, reign as Seattle’s biggest slut for what is it now? Almost ten years running?” I squeal when he starts to tickle me. I try to break free from his grip but all those hours at the gym have done him good and I’m powerless.

“Think you’re soooo funny, don’t you, Natalie…” He freezes and cocks his head. “I just realized I don’t know your middle name. I can’t scold you properly without a middle name.”

“Celeste,” I say breathless. “Natalie Celeste.”

“Pretty,” he says before that wicked gleam shines in his blue eyes again and the torture resumes. “Think you’re soooo funny, don’t you, Natalie Celeste Morgan?” I can hardly breathe around the laughter, tears running down my cheeks, and finally he stops, sweeping me up in one smooth motion. He tosses me over his shoulder in that weirdly attractive semi-caveman kind of way.

“Time to teach you some manners.”

“Ok, we have a problem. Def Con One. Or Five. Whatever the bad one is, I don’t fucking know.”

Bobby snorts into his beer and Hattie grins, biting into another onion ring. The guys are gone for a three-city string of away games, and though I’ll admit that I miss AJ more than I thought I would after just a couple of days, the sexting and videos have kept things very entertaining.

“Both of you shut up and help me please.”

“Ok, ok, what’s the problem?” Bobby asks. “Is your insanely attractive boyfriend giving you too many orgasms with hisgiant di—” Hattie busts out laughing, cutting off the end of his sentence.

“Why am I friends with you again?” I ask, throwing an onion ring at him. “And don’t be jealous that I’m getting some finally.” His face falls for the briefest of seconds and a swift jolt of guilt punches me right in the gut. I knew that he and Mystery Guy from a couple of months back didn’t turn into anything, but he’d said it was fine, that he didn’t care and it was just a stupid fling anyway. So, why the flash of hurt in his eyes? I don’t want to pry, but if it was more than that and he’s been upset all this time, I hate that he didn’t think he could tell us. We’ll be diving more into that soon, maybe after a few more drinks.

“Ok, seriously, what’s the problem?” Hattie asks, regaining her composure.

“The V word is the problem.”

Bobby purses his lips.

“Venereal Disease? Do you need to go to the doctor?” I press my lips into a thin line and he grins widely. “Ok, I’m done, I promise. V word…ohhhh, Valentine’s Day?”

“Yes, that one. I’m not sure how to handle it?”

“What do you mean?” Hattie asks, brow furrowed.

“Did you already forget that until very recently, a certain star center was allergic to relationships and all things love-related? And I haven’t told him yet, but I am already very much in love with the idiot…”

Hattie gasps and jumps up and down in her seat. I smile but roll my eyes.

“As if you couldn’t tell already.”

“Well, yeah, it’s pretty damn obvious actually,” Bobby agrees, “but it’s nice to hear you admit it out loud.” I kick him in the shin under the table and he grunts before laughing.

“Well even without admitting it tohimout loud yet, I don’t want him to feel pressure or freak out about Valentine’s or anything.”

“Have you talked to him about it?” Bobby asks, taking another sip of his beer. He seems tense and I worry again that whatever happened with him and Mystery Guy left him feeling some sort of way, and talk of the holiday centered around love isn’t helping.

“He brought it up the other day and it was adorably awkward. Out of nowhere he just goes “Valentine’s. We…do that, right?” I had no idea how to take that so I just said “sure” but then he got his concentration face on and I’m worried he’s thinking he has to go all out or something. And he so doesn’t. I don’t even really care about the stupid holiday other than the half-priced candy the day after. I mean, no hate to anyone who likes it. In theory, it’s nice that there’s a day dedicated to love and all of that, but…I dunno. Maybe I’m just cynical.”

Hattie gives me a crooked smirk.

“You’re talking to the girl who hated Christmas up until a month ago. I’m the queen of cynical when it comes to holidays and expectations that go with them. But that being said, it’s actually nice as hell to put all that stuff aside and just enjoy the days for what they are: a time to be with the people you care about and be grateful that they exist. Or, ya know, didn’t get murdered by a psychopath in my living room when said psychopath tried to kidnap me.” She hikes a shoulder when Bobby and I both give her level looks. “What!? I can’t joke about it?”

---