Alex
Page 92
I resisted at first, telling him I had just lost my interest in hockey. I certainly wasn’t going to tell him my heart was broken and I didn’t want to be anywhere in the vicinity of Alex Crossman. But he kept at me, finally threatening to give the tickets away to friends if I wouldn’t go with him.
And of course, I capitulated. I didn’t want Glenn to miss this opportunity because—let’s face it—Garrett was going to fade out of the picture. He developed a pretty great bond with Glenn over Thanksgiving and has been in touch with him a few times, but now that Alex and I are over, I’m sure Garrett’s attention on Glenn will dissipate.
I tried to surreptitiously find out from Glenn if he was upset at all that Alex wasn’t around anymore, and he surprised me by showing anger. I had been honest that Alex had called it off, and that’s apparently all Glenn needed to know in order to cut ties with his hockey idol.
He didn’t understand all of the underlying issues. He had merely said to me, “He hurt you, Sutton. I don’t like him anymore.”
So here we sit at the Cold Fury’s arena, with Glenn’s face pressed up against the glass waiting for the teams to come out for a warm-up. Just to show he really had cut ties with Alex, he didn’t even wear his jersey that Alex had given him, choosing instead to wear a simple black Cold Fury sweatshirt to the game.
I, on the other hand, had no problem showing my support for Alex as a player and wore the jersey he gave me. I was here to see a hockey game with Glenn and “when in Rome”…
Loud rock music blares from the speakers and a small cheer goes up from the visitors’ fans when the other team takes the ice for warm-ups. This starts my pulse pounding because I know within just a few minutes, the Cold Fury will be out and Alex will be just feet away from me.
I don’t even think I can bear to look at him, and I sure as hell hope he won’t see me. I doubt it. Even though we are sitting at the glass, most of the hockey players don’t even look at the fans as they are so focused on their game.
Still, I sit back in my chair and keep my eyes on my cell phone while I browse Facebook and Twitter, trying not to acknowledge the frantic pounding of my heart.
You will not look at him, you will not look at him, I tell myself over and over again.
A deafening roar goes up from the Cold Fury fans, and I know that means the team is coming onto the ice. From the periphery, I can see Glenn banging on the glass and yelling out Garrett’s name, so I know he’s at least on the ice now. I manage not to look up, but I sure as hell don’t see a damn thing on my cell phone as my vision is a bit blurred from trying to restrain my eyes from involuntarily seeking out Alex.
I start to realize something isn’t quite right when Glenn goes still and is no longer yelling. Even as I peer hard at my cell phone, I can see his body turn to look at me, so there must be something wrong if he’s not focused on the ice action.
Then I hear a rapping sound…it’s one I’ve heard before…a stick beating on the glass. And if I thought my heart rate had been racing before, now I can hear the thunder of its beat pulsing deep within my eardrums.
The rapping sound comes again, quicker…more insistent.
Against my better judgment, against the pledge I made earlier to myself not to do it, I drag my eyes slowly upward and look at Alex Crossman standing on the ice directly in front of me.
His gaze is soft and his brow is furrowed just enough for me to know that he is worried. About seeing me, about communicating with a “fan” rather than warming up…I’m not exactly sure, but he looks ill at ease.
He just looks at me, in such an intimate way, that the sounds of the arena seem to die out and there is only blessed silence cocooning the two of us.
I have no clue what he wants. I search the emotion on his face and I try to figure it out, but I just don’t get it. He’s an enigma to me, bewildering me so profoundly, I can do nothing but return his stare.
Movement to the side causes our gaze to break and I slide my eyes over to see Garrett skate up and come to a stop a few feet from Alex. He rests his arms on top of his stick and looks at me with a sly grin.
Then Alex moves and my attention is back on him. He throws his stick and gloves down to the ice and bends down at the glass, doing what, I have no clue. For a brief second, he’s gone from view and then he stands back up. He skates backward a few feet and I’m stunned to see he’s holding a stack of poster boards in his hand.
He smiles at me and my face flames red as I realize that he’s getting ready to do something in a very public arena in front of several thousand people. I look quickly left and right, and sure as shit, everyone in the vicinity is looking right at Alex in curiosity.
A brief look at Glenn shows him grinning like a fool, and I realize that I’m probably going to murder my little brother later. My gaze slides back over to Alex, and it’s clear he is patiently waiting for my focus to remain on him.
Holding the boards up in front of this chest, he pulls the first one away and tosses it to the ice, revealing a board underneath with writing on it.
It says, I’m sorry for letting you go.
My eyes shoot up from the board to meet Alex’s and I can see the apology swimming there as well. He pulls that board away, slinging it to the ice, and I read the next board underneath.
I stole this idea from the movie Love Actually.
My eyes rise again to meet his, and now I see him grinning at me. I can’t help it that my lips curve upward in response.
He reveals the next board to me, and my smile gets even bigger.
And of course, I capitulated. I didn’t want Glenn to miss this opportunity because—let’s face it—Garrett was going to fade out of the picture. He developed a pretty great bond with Glenn over Thanksgiving and has been in touch with him a few times, but now that Alex and I are over, I’m sure Garrett’s attention on Glenn will dissipate.
I tried to surreptitiously find out from Glenn if he was upset at all that Alex wasn’t around anymore, and he surprised me by showing anger. I had been honest that Alex had called it off, and that’s apparently all Glenn needed to know in order to cut ties with his hockey idol.
He didn’t understand all of the underlying issues. He had merely said to me, “He hurt you, Sutton. I don’t like him anymore.”
So here we sit at the Cold Fury’s arena, with Glenn’s face pressed up against the glass waiting for the teams to come out for a warm-up. Just to show he really had cut ties with Alex, he didn’t even wear his jersey that Alex had given him, choosing instead to wear a simple black Cold Fury sweatshirt to the game.
I, on the other hand, had no problem showing my support for Alex as a player and wore the jersey he gave me. I was here to see a hockey game with Glenn and “when in Rome”…
Loud rock music blares from the speakers and a small cheer goes up from the visitors’ fans when the other team takes the ice for warm-ups. This starts my pulse pounding because I know within just a few minutes, the Cold Fury will be out and Alex will be just feet away from me.
I don’t even think I can bear to look at him, and I sure as hell hope he won’t see me. I doubt it. Even though we are sitting at the glass, most of the hockey players don’t even look at the fans as they are so focused on their game.
Still, I sit back in my chair and keep my eyes on my cell phone while I browse Facebook and Twitter, trying not to acknowledge the frantic pounding of my heart.
You will not look at him, you will not look at him, I tell myself over and over again.
A deafening roar goes up from the Cold Fury fans, and I know that means the team is coming onto the ice. From the periphery, I can see Glenn banging on the glass and yelling out Garrett’s name, so I know he’s at least on the ice now. I manage not to look up, but I sure as hell don’t see a damn thing on my cell phone as my vision is a bit blurred from trying to restrain my eyes from involuntarily seeking out Alex.
I start to realize something isn’t quite right when Glenn goes still and is no longer yelling. Even as I peer hard at my cell phone, I can see his body turn to look at me, so there must be something wrong if he’s not focused on the ice action.
Then I hear a rapping sound…it’s one I’ve heard before…a stick beating on the glass. And if I thought my heart rate had been racing before, now I can hear the thunder of its beat pulsing deep within my eardrums.
The rapping sound comes again, quicker…more insistent.
Against my better judgment, against the pledge I made earlier to myself not to do it, I drag my eyes slowly upward and look at Alex Crossman standing on the ice directly in front of me.
His gaze is soft and his brow is furrowed just enough for me to know that he is worried. About seeing me, about communicating with a “fan” rather than warming up…I’m not exactly sure, but he looks ill at ease.
He just looks at me, in such an intimate way, that the sounds of the arena seem to die out and there is only blessed silence cocooning the two of us.
I have no clue what he wants. I search the emotion on his face and I try to figure it out, but I just don’t get it. He’s an enigma to me, bewildering me so profoundly, I can do nothing but return his stare.
Movement to the side causes our gaze to break and I slide my eyes over to see Garrett skate up and come to a stop a few feet from Alex. He rests his arms on top of his stick and looks at me with a sly grin.
Then Alex moves and my attention is back on him. He throws his stick and gloves down to the ice and bends down at the glass, doing what, I have no clue. For a brief second, he’s gone from view and then he stands back up. He skates backward a few feet and I’m stunned to see he’s holding a stack of poster boards in his hand.
He smiles at me and my face flames red as I realize that he’s getting ready to do something in a very public arena in front of several thousand people. I look quickly left and right, and sure as shit, everyone in the vicinity is looking right at Alex in curiosity.
A brief look at Glenn shows him grinning like a fool, and I realize that I’m probably going to murder my little brother later. My gaze slides back over to Alex, and it’s clear he is patiently waiting for my focus to remain on him.
Holding the boards up in front of this chest, he pulls the first one away and tosses it to the ice, revealing a board underneath with writing on it.
It says, I’m sorry for letting you go.
My eyes shoot up from the board to meet Alex’s and I can see the apology swimming there as well. He pulls that board away, slinging it to the ice, and I read the next board underneath.
I stole this idea from the movie Love Actually.
My eyes rise again to meet his, and now I see him grinning at me. I can’t help it that my lips curve upward in response.
He reveals the next board to me, and my smile gets even bigger.
