Page 37 of Brick Wall
“That’s good to know,” she answers, like I’ve just given her inside information.
Another wave of students wanders in as Maggie wads up her napkin and sorts the trash from the silverware on her tray. “Well…” she begins, “have a good day, JT. A good semester, I guess, if I don’t see you around.”
There it is. The brush off I knew was imminent. The thing is, I don’t buy it. Believe me, I’m not saying I’m god’s gift or anything. I’ve got my flaws, like everybody else. Fuck, I probably have more than my share. But Maggie hasn’t been able to take her eyes off me since I sat down. The chemistry I’m feeling isn’t one-sided, that’s for damn sure. The willingness to do something about it? Well, those scales are definitely tipped in my direction.
I’ve been playing hockey since I was six years old and got signed up for a league only because the rink was next to a bowling alley where my aunt’s boyfriend used to hang out. He’d take me to lessons three times a week and sit his ass at the bar while I was learning how to stay upright on skates. I played all the positions that first year, but I’ve been in goal ever since. Defending the net is what I do. I’m not the guy who makes the plays; I’m the one who stops them. And one thing I know for sure is that timing is everything. The impulse is there to shoot my shot, to go for it, to ask Maggie out. I could be casual as fuck right now and ask her if she’sgoing back to Kappa this weekend, or if she wants to hang out.
But there’s no doubt in my mind she’d shoot me down. She’s intrigued, yeah. Interested, maybe. Skeptical as all fuck, no doubt.
If there’s one quality that makes a good goalie great, it’s patience. Lucky me, I’ve got a fuck ton of it. Whether that comes from my screwed-up childhood or my hours on the ice willing the puck to come my way so I could fucking do something, who knows.
“Yeah, see you later,” I say, smiling at Maggie as she walks away. I’m mesmerized by the sway of her hips as she weaves through the crowd. My eyes never lose sight of her for a second, which is how I catch her looking over her shoulder at me.
She turns back quickly, as though the speed of her retreat will erase the motion. It doesn’t. Whatever game she’s playing, whatever makes her feel like she needs to keep her distance, I don’t know. But I’ll wait patiently until I find out.
CHAPTER 14
MAGGIE
Two secondsafter I send the text, my phone starts ringing in my hand.
Dammit.
I’m not surprised. I’m just…annoyed? That seems wrong. After all, Uncle Hudson has opened his home to me and won’t hear of taking money for rent. I know he pulled some strings to get my schedule squared away at the last minute. Transferring is never easy, I’m sure, but the fact that I switched schools a few weeks before the start of my senior year made things a little more complicated. I figured I’d have to do an extra semester or at least a class next summer, but someone in the scheduling office worked a little magic and got me all the courses I need, so I’ll be graduating on time.
Uncle Hudson’s been great. And Jules has too, when she’s around. I owe them a lot for doing me this favor, so if that means that I have to actually answer my phone because my Millennial uncle hates texting, then so be it.
I roll my eyes, then plaster on a smile as I hit the green button.
“Hey, did you see my text?” I ask, sending a futile hopeinto the universe that he’ll hang up the phone and just read the freaking text like a normal person.
“I’m fine, Margo, thanks for asking. How are you?”
Taking a deep breath, think of all the rent money I’m saving. “Hi, Uncle Hudson. My day’s been pretty good. How about yours?”
He chuckles on the other end of the line. “All good here. And yes, I saw that you texted me. Is everything okay? I checked your oil when I gassed up your car last night, and it looked good. It’s not giving you any trouble, is it?”
“My car is fine, and thanks again for filling my tank. That really wasn’t necessary,” I say, before quickly adding, “It really was sweet of you. I had time for an extra cup of coffee this morning since I didn’t have to stop at the gas station, so thanks.”
“It was no trouble. I was with Dad when he bought that car, and I know he kept it in good condition. I just wanted to make sure it’s treating you right.”
I nod, which is ridiculous. We’re talking on the phone, not video-chatting like it’s the twenty-first century or something.
“I’m glad you had a little extra time this morning, but take it easy on the caffeine. Studies show it can stunt your growth.”
I hold back a groan. Hudson and Jules never had any kids, so maybe that’s why it feels like I’m getting years of parenting advice all in one phone call. My uncle is a good guy— a great guy, even. But he is a micro-manager of the highest order. I guess it’s a natural consequence of his job. It’s his duty to tell a fleet of guys exactly what to do in a given situation.
But I’m not one of Uncle Hudson’s hockey players.
I don’t need him to oversee every little detail of my life.
Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been on my own for a few years now, or maybe it’s because I spent my childhood beingbossed around by Gam. Or maybe I’m more like my mother than I’d ever want to acknowledge.
All I know is that my gut reaction to his overbearing tendencies is to rebel. I want to miss curfew—and yes, I have a curfew—on purpose. I want to blast my music during quiet hours—and yes, there are quiet hours. I want to use a glass without a coaster, and drink three cups of coffee because I’m a flipping adult.
But mostly, I want to scream.
I don’t, though.
