Falsk Dating Alpha Hockey Kaptein
Riley Above Story
Introduction
Når din eks plager deg for å bli sammen igjen, dukker han opp og sier til eksen din at han skal dra til helvete.
Din eks sier: Jeg vet dette bare er en avtale, og du kan umulig like henne.
Han (kysser deg foran alle): En avtale, som dette?
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About Author
Riley Above Story
Chapter 1
Speilene i Mier'Chelie’s gjør meg ikke en tjeneste. Jeg ser ut som en rotte!
Uker med planlegging, og cardiganermene mine virker litt lange. Hårbåndet jeg tok på gjør ingenting for å temme det bølgete håret mitt. Er Chuck Taylor-kopier greit her?
Kanskje Oliver vil legge merke til innsatsen.
Har han sett tekstmeldingene mine? Klokken er allerede 9:43. Hvis vi spiser og drar i tide, kan vi rekke nyttårsfyrverkeriet…
“Ser frem til at du kommer”—30 minutter siden, ulest.
Jeg kniper øynene sammen. Jeg jobbet hardt for å lære hvordan eyeliner fungerer, så jeg vil ikke ødelegge den, men…
“Ta det med ro, Cynthia… Bare…to minutter til.”
Jeg har allerede satt en tekstpåminnelse. Det er ingen grunn til å bombardere ham.
Det går bra. Bare to minutter til.
Når jeg begynner å åpne baderomsdøren—
“Gå ikke!!”
—nesten slår jeg meg selv i ansiktet med den.
Hvem skriker slik her av alle steder? Jeg får svaret når jeg kikker ut døren.
Jessica Parthow. Hun ser fantastisk ut i sin dypblå kjole. Danseteamet gjør virkelig underverker for bena hennes.
Fyren hun holder fast i ser ikke ut til å merke det eller bry seg.
Alex Hewlett: kaptein på hockeylaget, tilfredsstillende student og notorisk useriøs playboy. Min Oliver går alltid rundt og roser ham. Deres nåværende sesong er en stor suksess takket være ham.
Jeg…bryr meg egentlig ikke om Alex. Selvsagt, han ser ut som et motekatalogbilde gjort levende: lyse bukser, innsatt svart skjorte, rene joggesko.
Men så vidt jeg vet, er han ikke en for forpliktelser. En person som bare har flørter, aldri datet noen jeg vet om.
Selv om Jessica, eh, ikke har fått med seg det. Jeg hørte at hun sendte en tekstmelding til noen og krevde at de “sluttet å prøve å ligge med kjæresten min.” Fra hans telefon til og med.
De to krangler fortsatt så…jeg venter her inne for nå—
Hjertet mitt hopper opp i halsen når telefonen min begynner å bråke.
Ah. 9:45.
Panikk skyller over meg mens jeg prøver å slå den av, men jeg får ikke tak i den før baderomsdøren blir dyttet opp. Jeg snubler bakover og ser opp.
Det er Jessica, plettfri og rasende. Hennes fem fot syv virker fjellstor mot mine fem fot fire.
Å møte blikket hennes er…for mye. Jeg prøver å smyge meg forbi henne, men hånden hennes griper tak i skulderen min.
“Hvem i helvete er du?” Jessica hvisker, neglene hennes graver seg inn mens jeg krymper meg. “Du lyttet til oss nå, ikke sant? Tok en video for å le med venninnene dine?”
“Eh—”
Før jeg rekker å svare, griper en stor hånd den andre skulderen min og trekker meg bort. Jeg stivner, presset mot noen brystmuskler.
“Hei kjære,” sier en sukkersøt stemme. “Hva tok deg så lang tid?”
…Oliver kaller meg ikke ‘kjære’. Denne kroppen er for stor også.
Når jeg ser opp, møter Alexs varme brune øyne mine. Han blunker før han ser tilbake mot Jessica.
“…Hva er det blikket for? Du vet jeg ikke er en som dater. Jeg ville bare ha det gøy, men… Det er ikke morsomt lenger. Ser deg.”
Så blir jeg ført bort. Ørene mine er for fulle av bomull til å forstå helt hva Alex sier til meg.
Var hendene hans alltid så store? Så sterke? Han er som en skruestikke.
Jeg innser først hvor langt vi har gått når en vindpust blåser mot ansiktet mitt… Når kom vi nedover gaten?
“…Ok, hun drar. Takk og lov—”
Jeg vrir meg ut av armene hans med en gang, nesten dunker hodet mitt i den snødekte bakken. Når jeg gir ham et blikk jeg håper er skremmende, bare løfter han hendene som om han konfronterer et redd rådyr.
“Hei, ja, beklager det. Jess var på vei til å hoppe ned i halsen min.” Jeg føler øynene hans gli opp og ned over kroppen min. “Du var til stor hjelp, skjønt. Kan jeg få nummeret ditt? Jeg skal gjøre opp for dette.”
Det tar meg et øyeblikk å prosessere hva han sa, så bobler irritasjonen i brystet mitt. Brukte han ikke nettopp meg for å diss Jessica?
“…Ingen grunn.”
Jeg snubler forbi ham, på vei tilbake til restauranten. Uansett, jeg skal tilbake. Jeg vil bare vente på Oliver.
Men joggeskoene hans tar igjen ved siden av meg.
"Jeg mener det, jeg er virkelig lei meg for det! Helt ærlig... Venter du egentlig på noen?" Han slipper ut et fnys. "Klokka er nesten 10. Ingen ordentlig kjæreste ville vært sen på en dag som denne."
Jeg stopper opp og snur meg mot ham. Med en viss anstrengelse, tvinger jeg kjeven til å slappe av.
"Noen som bruker tilfeldige jenter på innfall burde holde kjeft. Han er tusen ganger bedre enn deg."
Alex hever øyenbrynene mens han ser på meg igjen.
"...Du er mer krydret enn du ser ut." Han begynner å smile, og stikker hendene i lommene. "Redmond videregående, ikke sant? Kjenner jeg din perfekte prinsen?"
"Oliver er—"
Ah.
Vår seks måneders jubileum er i dag, men nesten ingen vet det. Oliver liker ikke skoleprat, og jeg er fornøyd så lenge han er det. Men...
Jeg stopper meg selv, og ser opp på Alex, håper han ikke kjenner navnet. Men selvfølgelig gjør han det, de tykke svarte øyenbrynene hevet i overraskelse.
Smilet hans blir lekent, så jeg prøver å gjøre ansiktet mitt så steinhardt som mulig.
"Oliver Oakley? Ja... stor ressurs for laget. En skikkelig morsom fyr." Han gisper, og jeg rykker litt til. "Når vi snakker om moro, Gunther har fest mens foreldrene hans er borte. Stikk innom. Du kan se noe morsomt."
…Den kalde vinterluften minner meg fast på at jeg bare har på meg en cardigan. Jeg krysser armene rundt meg selv og bestemmer meg for å flykte i stedet for å gruble over hans forslag.
Alex roper etter meg. "Husk! 8293 Harvey vei!"
Jeg svarer ikke. Det er ikke nødvendig.
— — —
Jeg sender melding til Oliver klokka 21:52.
Så 22:10.
22:35.
22:55.
Klokka 23 står jeg i snøen utenfor den nå stengte restauranten, med mine halvspiste brødpinner i en take-away boks under armen. Magen min rumler av sult.
Har... Oliver latt meg stå her?
Nei, det kunne han ikke ha gjort. Kanskje han bare er opptatt.
Hva som helst kunne ha skjedd. Telefonbatteriet hans kunne ha dødd, eller han kunne ha vært i en bilulykke og ikke kunne svare. Eller kanskje...
Nei.
Hvis Oliver skulle på en fest, ville han fortalt meg det. Jeg trenger ikke å oppføre meg som Jessica. Greit nok, Oliver og jeg dater faktisk, men likevel.
...Vel. Det er ikke som om jeg ikke kan stikke innom. Jeg kjenner ikke Gunther så godt, men kanskje han vet hvor Oliver er.
Det er vel greit å sjekke... ikke sant?
Jeg skal bare se om han er der, det er alt.
Ved ankomst, ser jeg med en gang bilen hans blant de andre.
Lysene inne og musikken er… mye. Det er så mange folk, jeg blir klemt bare ved å gå inn. Det svir på en måte.
Mens jeg snubler over flisene, finner jeg Gunther der, en hengslete brunette slengt i en stol med en billig spritflaske slapp i hånden.
"Hei..."
Gunther blunker sakte mot meg som om jeg er en luftspeiling. Kanskje jeg ser ut som en. Håret mitt er overalt nå.
Jeg prøver å dra ord fra den tørkende betongen i hjernen min.
"Uhm... ah... Oliver. Vet du, uhm... Hvor han er?"
Han myser mot meg. "Hva?"
Musikken er for høy. Så jeg prøver å snakke høyere, men han hører meg ikke. Jeg prøver igjen, og det går ikke.
"Jeg sa! Vet du hvor Oliver er?!"
Halsen min føles rå som jeg skriker. Det er svette som renner nedover ryggen min.
"Åh. Faen, du trengte ikke å rope," huffer Gunther. "Han sover oppe."
Lettelsen skyller over meg umiddelbart.
Hvor er trappen? Bare finn trappen. Soverommet er oppe.
Når jeg får øye på det første trinnet, kryper jeg meg gjennom mengden. Jeg vil bare ha dem vekk fra meg.
Når jeg kommer opp til andre etasje...
Det er roligere, tror jeg. Jeg kan ikke høre forbi summingen nede, ringingen i ørene mine, og min egen pesing.
Men jeg vet han er her. Jeg kan føle ham, mitt ledende lys. Oliver er her.
Jeg vet han er bak den første døren jeg finner. Sikkert at han hviler.
Jeg skal spørre ham hvorfor han ikke svarte på meldingene mine senere. Jeg vil bare... se ham.
Vite at han er trygg. Bare roe meg ned før jeg drar hjem.
Stemmerne nede teller.
Jeg åpner døren forsiktig, vil ikke vekke ham.
Men han er allerede våken.
Stemmerne jubler.
Oliver ligger i sengen.
Han ligger under dyna, kysser en jente med nakne skuldre.
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About Author
Riley Above Story
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