Page 20 of Puck to the Heart
The corners of her mouth turned down, her fingers drumming on the glass again. “Embarrassed isn’t the right word, exactly. It’s more like… peopleliketo judge romance, you know? It’s supposedly frivolous to want to read about people finding love and happiness. All the people with boners for literary authors or nonfiction get all superior talking about silly little romance novels. And don’t even get me started on the stigma around fanfic and how it’s a traditionally female space and the misogynistic take on it all being trash.” The pause Olivia took to choose a gummy worm from the bag seemed to be for fortification. A slow exhale stirred the pieces of hair escaping her loose bun to fall around her face.
“I know nothing about fanfic, but I read romance. Clearly.” I waved my book at her for evidence. I never told anyone that before. Not that it embarrassed me, but it never came up. Not that it would with one-night stands or in the middle of a hockey game. “Even if I didn’t, it’s not silly.”
“How did you get into romance, anyway? Polly’s doing, I guess?” Another gummy worm disappeared into her mouth, and she chewed thoughtfully.
“Hmm. I read a little bit of everything; fantasy, biographies, thrillers, poetry, romance… sometimes Coach gives us books on teamwork, but I have a hard time with those. I practically grew up with my grandparents, and they got me into reading at a really young age. I found Nana’s romance books in high school, and I read those and my grandpa’s cowboy books. I just took whatever I wanted off their shelves, and they didn’t care as long as I finished my homework first. I have less time now, but I read a ton in the off-season.”
“Huh.” It was her turn to lean back in her seat. “That’s surprising, but kind of cool.”
Something in her demeanor shifted, then, her posture growing less stiff. It was like watching the gears in her brain become more comfortable with me.
“Is that your big confession?”
“When you say it like that, I guess it’s not a big deal. I probably consume more than your average reader, though, so maybe obsession is more accurate than addiction. Or emotional support smut.”
“Oh, you like the spicy stuff, huh?”
“Sometimes.” Her eyes flicked away again.
“So, thiswaswhat you were reading at the game, then?”
The grin from before, the one tinged with a hint of wickedness, returned. “Ah. I guess so, yeah. Have you heard of Omegaverse?”
“Nope. Educate me, Barnes.”
The flight attendant arrived in the middle of a diatribe I hardly understood about omegas and knotting and slick, and Olivia barely acknowledged our drinks arriving, thanking the attendant and jumping right back into her explanation. Watching her turn that intensity on something other than disliking me was much better than being on the receiving end of it.
“—and the Alphas aren’t like what dudebros call ‘alpha males’.” Olivia swiped a few more gummy worms, popping one into her mouth. “Alphas are, like, providers. Protectors. They’re aggressive sometimes, but they’re not usually assholes to women for the sake of being assholes to women.” Taking what might be the first deep breath in about ten minutes, Olivia paused, glancing between my nearly empty bag of candy and her handful of worms. Another flush spread over her face, this one pinching her brows together. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I’ve been monologuing over—I’m sorry.”
The abrupt shift from enthusiastic to shuttered startled me. “Don’t apologize. I think I learned something.”
“No, it’s not that. I just… let’s talk about you.” Hastily, she shoved the final piece of candy in her mouth, pushing the bag back in my direction.
“Don’t be like that. This is the most interesting conversation I’ve had in a while.” I meant it, too. Hockey was my job, but that didn’t mean it was my life, and no matter how many times we tried not to, going out with Dante and the guys always meant we turned to shoptalk, eventually.
“Okay.” She paused, looking up at me through her lashes, suddenly almost shy again. “Sorry about the gummy worms. Sour candy is my Achilles heel. I used to eat these while I studied, and it’s like a stress reflex now. I promise I’ll buy you more.”
Why was that adorable?
And why the hell did I think she was adorable?
“How ‘bout you share the link to that—what was it—omega something? You were reading and we’ll call it even?”
“I’m not sure you’re ready for that much fluid in one place, Wilder, but sure.”
And we passed the rest of the flight that way, sharing candy and reading in companionable silence, occasionally broken by laughs from me or gasps from her until she fell asleep. Her head drooped on my shoulder, and I was loath to move her; I knew she didn’t sleep last night and if her next couple of days were going to be in a hospital, she wouldn’t sleep there either.
While she slept, I logged into the airplane wi-fi, texting Nana about Trip’s injury. She and Trip got along well, and I knew she’d want to send flowers and food.
What Ididn’texpect was her next message.
Nana
If you’re going to be captain, you’re going to need a better haircut.
Somehow, Nana’s expectation that I’d go for it felt like unasked for permission, like if Nana thought I could do it, allowing myself to dream might make it a reality. The half-formed idea from earlier began taking shape.
When we landed, the pinchy look reappeared on Olivia’s face. She thanked me and practically slid down the ramp, grabbed her suitcase from a bewildered attendant, and raced toward a rental car she somehow wrangled.
