Page 23 of Hitting the Goal Line
We’re going to go to the same college, going to possibly spend more time together since our dorm is in the same building. I can’t let a crush ruin all of what we have.
“Well, thank god, I’m not Jainie. because I sure as hell don’t need you policing what I wear.” I move my body back to face the front of that car.
Blake lets out what sounds like a growl, which means that if he wasn’t irritated with me before, he sure is now.
“Why are you changing the way you dress? Are you trying to impress a guy or something?” he asks, reaching over and pulling at my hair.
It’s funny how three years ago I did dress for a guy, for him, but he didn’t even notice and now that I don’t even want to impress him, he’s noticing.
Stop lying to yourself. You are trying to impress him.
“I’m not trying to impress anyone,” I say but I don’t know if I’m telling myself or him. “I just wanted to get new clothes. In case you missed it, I’m eighteen and about to go into college, I can dress however I want.”
“Whatever. But if some asshole starts to get handsy or begging you to go home with him, don’t come crying to me.”
My mouth legit drops. No fucking way he just said that to me.
“Are you telling me that I’m dressed like a slut?” I ask, absolutely dumbfounded.
He jerks his head toward me, looking angry. “The word slut didn’t come out of my mouth.”
“No, but it sure as hell sounded like it wanted to,” I say through clenched teeth starting to feel tears form in my eyes.
Blake and I fight like any other friends, but this feels a lot more than just your stereotypical best friend fight. This feels completely different and on a different level.
The truck jerks to a stop and when I look around, I see that we’re at Landon’s house already.
I honestly don’t want to be here anymore.
“Have fun at the party,” I say, opening my door. “I’m walking home.”
Blake grabs my hand pulling my back into the cab of the truck before my foot can even touch the ground.
“You’re not walking home dressed like that. You wouldn’t be walking home even if you weren’t,” he says, his jaw tight.
“Watch me.” I yank my arm out of his grip and jump out of the truck. If my parents were home, I would be calling them right now, but they decided to have a date night. And because I don’t want to interrupt them, walking is my solution.
I hear a door slam behind me, and within seconds, Blake is pulling me to a stop.
He turns my body to face his and I see that he is just as pissed as I feel.
“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. My head isn’t in the right place.”
“So? Don’t take out on me,” I say, shoving him away and crossing my arms when I take a step back. I don’t miss his eyes looking down at my chest when I do.
No way in hell he just did that. I must be imagining things.
“I know,” he says, letting out a sigh. “Look, if you really want to home, I’ll take you. But with everything going on tomorrow, I really need a distraction, have a little fun, and as much as I know you probably hate me right now, I want you to stay. You’re choice, though. You want to leave, we’ll leave.”
I look at the boy in front of me. In less than twenty-four hours, his life could change for the better. He can get drafted and go to Montana State knowing that there’s an NHL contract waiting for him when he’s done. That’s huge.
He’s put in a lot of work to get this point, and he deserves to have fun tonight and get drafted tomorrow. No matter what he deserves, though, he has no right to talk to me the way he did in the truck.
That should be reason enough to leave, yet I find myself wanting to concede.
I flip flop for about a minute on whether or not I should stay or leave. After looking into his icy blues one last time, I finally decided.
“I’ll stay, but I don’t feel like being around you right now. So, give me some space.”
