Page 57 of Between the Blue

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Not Jules.

She’s different.

With them, I don’t even have to try. Yet they’re impressed.

But with her, she’s not impressed by me at all. Even though I’m trying harder than I’ve ever tried at anything.

And that makes me so impressed by her.

I’ve never felt this way. I can’t explain it. But it makes me want her around.

I can tell she likes to be chased, but there’s a fine line with Jules. I’ve made up countless excuses for me to see her, but it hasn’t done much. I know, at this point, that I have to let her come to me.

So I’ve invited her to three of my games in a row.

And, three times in a row, she hasn’t shown.

You’re probably wondering why I’d continue to try.

It’s because, every time I’m sure she has no interest, that she’s pulled away completely, she finds a way to show herself again.

To make herself known.

To keep me thinking about her.

Which means she has to be thinking about me too.

I blow out a breath and exit the tunnel, gliding on to the ice. Take a few laps. Settle at the center ice face-off circle.

The puck drops, and the action begins.

I’m in the zone. Fully focused on the game before me.

I don’t know what Jules’s game is, I think.

I chase down the puck. Steal it from one of our opponent’s defensemen.

I don’t know her game.

Make a straight shot down the ice. Sneak in like I always do.

But I want to find out.

The goalie never sees me coming. Not until it’s too late.

And it looks like I have a shot.

I take it.

The lamp lights up.

The crowd’s on their feet.

And there, in the blur of the audience, I think I see it. A flash of red.

And it looks like I have another shot.

Jules.

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