Page 47 of Faking It with my Hockey Crush

17

Ryan

Yes, I am speechless.No, it’s not a feeling I’m used to, but after Emma’s words, all I can do is gawk at her. My mind is spinning as I think about what she just said, and eventually, all I can say is, “I didn’t know.”

“Clearly,” she huffs.

But I’m not just surprised that I didn’t know.

I was a jock back then, and an arrogant one at that. There were always girls hanging around the team, and sure, I certainly had my pick. But I’m shocked that she had a crush on me at all. Stunned, in fact, that Emma Carter, the quiet girl with the glasses, would see anything in me that appealed to her. When I look back at the idiot I was back then, even I hate myself.

And now, the more I think about what I said—and in front of all my teammates, too—I feel awful. I mean, truly awful.

Taking her hand, which surprises her, I look at her carefully. “I’m so very sorry, Emma. Truly, I am. I was a jerk at the best of times back then. To me, it was a joke. A stupid joke by a stupidkid. But that guy’s gone now, and I would never hurt you. Not now, not ever.”

She’s looking at me intently, absorbing every word. I don’t know what’s going on in her head, but I can only hope she understands that my words are entirely genuine. They’re not just genuine. They kind of express how I feel about her now, but I don’t think this is the time or place to elaborate on that. This is about her. Not me.

For a minute, she doesn’t say anything. My heart is thumping in my chest, worrying that this might be the last function we attend. And not because of the media and the trouble I’ve gotten myself into. But because I’ve loved spending this time with her over the last few weeks, and I don’t want it to end.

I mean, ever.

“We should go,” she says softly.

“No.” I shake my head. “They can wait. I need to know that you truly understand how sorry I am.”

She gives me a small smile and nods. “I do. Thank you.”

“For what?” I shrug.

“The apology,” she says simply.

I sigh and shake my head. “It doesn’t really cut it after what I did, but I don’t know what else to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything else,” Emma says. “It’s enough.”

When we walk across the parking garage, there is so much more I want to say, but again, I don’t think this is the right time. These last couple of days have opened a Pandora’s box of confusion for me, and if not for the fact that I get talking to the guys, my head might be in more of a mess than it already is.

After three sessions with Emma, where she hardly said a word or was so distant it felt like the Grand Canyon separated us, I meet the guys for a drink. I need their help to figure out what I’m supposed to do.

“You can’t blame her,” John says after I explained what is going on. “Megan is making waves.”

Steve nods. “But we knew she would the minute we all saw her.”

“I get all that,” I say. “What I don’t get is why Emma is bothered so much. Our relationship isn’t real.”

John and Steve both look at me like I’m an idiot, and then they look at each other and laugh.

“What?” I blurt.

“I’m not sure which is worse,” Steve says, lifting an eyebrow. “You denying to us how you feel, or you denying it to yourself.”

I look at John then, who shrugs and nods knowingly. “It’s written all over your face, man. And the other night at the bar—”

“Before Megan turned up and ruined it,” Steve jumps in.

“Yes, definitely before that,” John agrees. “You and Emma were carrying on like you’d been together for years. Are you seriously going to sit there and tell us you don’t like her?”

“Of course, I like her,” I reply.

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