Page 29 of More Than Chemical
“Do I look like one of those perky girls who have all that rah-rah-rah going on?” I asked Dallas.
“No…” His voice wavered. “No, you don’t. I didn’t mean to imply…”
Ugh. I sounded horribly self-righteous. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Hockey cheerleaders need plenty of skill, athleticism, artistry, and determination. It’s just…sometimes when I’m thinking about my dad and the things he’s done or said to me, I get upset.”
“It’s okay.” He looked at me intently. “Your dad sounds like he has high expectations. Was he a hockey coach or something?”
Even though the temperature was cold, a flood of heat filled every crevice inside my body. I didn’t know what to say. The only thing I knew was I’d promised myself to try and be honest. As honest as I could be. “Yeah, he was.”
My answer hadn’t revealed much of anything, but an alarm started going off in my head and my heart sped up. Maybe I should tell him. We’d had such a great night together. He’d been kind and understanding. I really liked being with him, and if things kept going as they were, I might not be able to keep it secret.
No. No, I shouldn’t. It would be too much of a risk. No one at the dorm knew outside of Jay.
“What level?” he asked.
“College.” I held my breath. I shouldn’t have said that.
“Seriously? Maybe I know him. What’s his name?”
I put a hand to my forehead. This wasn’t a question I wanted to answer. But it was right there. The truth begged to come out. I wasn’t sure why, but I thought I wanted to set it free. Get it off my shoulders and tell someone who wasn’t an intense Minnesota University hockey fan and could maybe understand my position.
“David Bianchini.”
Dallas stopped dead in his tracks. So did I. He stared long and hard at me. “Coach Bianchini is your dad.” His voice cracked.
I tried to read his face, but his expression was empty, maybe a bit dazed. “I know. He’s in a slew of trouble, but if you can, it would be most appreciated if you didn’t say anything to anyone. Especially here at school.”
“And…and Eric Bianchini is your brother?”
“Yes.”
“But I thought your last name was Blankin.”
“It is. I changed it. I mean, not officially. My driver’s license says Bianchini, but I was allowed to submit a preferred name request when I registered for school.”
He nodded, and that was it. He said nothing more.
We set out down the sidewalk again. All I heard was the crunch of snow under our shoes.
Crap.I’d read him all wrong. He must like the Minnesota University’s hockey team more than I thought. He did think my dad was despicable. The questions were, after he had the chance to fully digest my revelation, what was he going to do or say? Had I ruined everything?
With each step we took, we got closer to our dorm. To base camp. Where the answers would become apparent. Where I would know if the bond we’d been forming all night remained intact or if it was disintegrating. Like salt melting ice.
We reached the front entrance, and I rewrapped my scarf to cover more of my face. It was late, and the lobby might be empty, but that didn’t mean gossipy Sandra wasn’t working or lurking by the front desk. I didn’t want to chance it.
Dallas took out his wallet and flashed it against the panel. Inside, there was a guy working, and he was busy texting on his phone. We walked by and went down the deserted hallway to the stairwell. I undid my disguise.
On the second floor, he stopped, and I did too.
“This is me.” He brushed the floor with the sole of his shoe.
I looked past him. “I’m on four.”
“So.” He gave me a glassy look. “I guess I’ll see you around?”
“Yeah,” I said, moving closer to him, hoping we might kiss again.
“I had a good time tonight,” he said, but made no move.
