Page 26 of Love at Teamsgiving
Mrs. Popovik mutters some unfriendly words under her breath and stumps away, leaving us alone to finish this slow, simmering fight.
Peering over her shoulder and then facing me again with a scowl, Junie hisses, “Can we just not, though?”
“Not what? Pretend that there’s still something between us?” I gesture with my finger.
She closes her eyes as if steeling herself with patience. “It’s bad enough that we have to plan Erica and Shane’s wedding. Let’s pretend that we still live in different states. Still hate each other.”
“But we don’t, Junie. You know that. I know that.”
“We’re terrible for each other. We don’t get along. We’ve proven that.”
Because it’s like I’m pre-programmed to say the opposite of whatever she does, I reply, “I just heard a lot ofwe’s. As inus. You and me.”
“I’m only going along with this because it’s for Erica.”
“Glad to know you’re loyal to some people,” I mutter and instantly regret it.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She folds her arms in front of her chest and cocks a hip—classic Junie stance ... and those hips. My gaze drops to them, wrapped in dark denim.
Warmth races through me, escaping at the tips of my ears. I’m a hockey player, tough, and am regularly put in the penalty box. But my mother insisted I learn the tarantella, a traditional Italian dance. I also enjoy a paso doble from time to time. A samba. The cha-cha. And Junie and I had undeniable rhythm, chemistry.
I can picture her swaying those hips.Yeow.
She widens her eyes as if to askWhat?But then her cheeks, which were already pink, go darker. She shifts as if noticing me drinking her in, remembering how good we were together.
The momentary flicker between us goes out because she’s still waiting for me to answer, but we both know the reference to loyalty without me having to spell it out.
She never cheated on me, but when it came to choosing between her family and me, the wedding was called off. She chose them instead of our future.
Truth is, I did the same but with my family.
Nostrils flaring, she says, “This is how it’s going to work. We’ll restrict communication to text-only and sit at opposite ends of the table at the rehearsal dinner. I’ll dutifully walk down the aisle at the ceremony by your side and then avoid you at the reception.”
I click my tongue. “No, we’ll be dancing together. You know this. I know this,” I say, because it’s true and I know it’ll rile her up.
“Not. A. Chance,” she grinds out.
“Mark my words. You won’t be able to resist once the music starts playing.”
She arches an eyebrow. “Considering we’re in charge of planning this thing, I’ll make sure the playlist consists of country tunes only.”
I angle my head and shuffle my feet a bit. “I just spent a year in Missouri. They like to two-step.”
“Then we’ll play heavy metal.”
“I don’t think Erica would approve. What happened to your loyalty? Oh, wait. You used the wordweagain. As in you and me,” I say slowly, letting each word drip from my lips.
She sweeps her side bangs out of the way as if annoyed ... or flustered. Both? “It’s a subjective pronoun. There will never be a you and me again.”
Some hockey teams gel with great chemistry—here’s hoping the fourth time is the charm. And some people have that special kind of compatibility too and you just know they’re the one. I’d go for a second chance with her.
Not only was Juniper Popovik the girl next door, but she was off-limits and out of my league. Then I took my shot, and she said yes.
I drop my gaze to hers and say, “I’ve never let go and I don’t think you have either.”
She cackles. “That’s hilarious.”
“Because it’s true.”
