The day I realized my feelings had shifted was the day I took her to the rink where I practice and taught her how to ice skate. She was terrible, but she never gave up. And when I held her hands to keep her from falling, my palms tingled and my stomach knotted. Under the fluorescent lights of the arena, her cheeks pink from the cold, I didn’t think I’d ever seen anyone so beautiful. And this beautiful girl trusted me completely. She stared into my eyes as I tugged her along over the ice and never once looked scared.
Her eyelashes flutter in her sleep. Not even the can of Coke I’d handed her an hour ago could keep her awake. The diffused light of the moon makes her pale skin glow, and the stars remind me of her freckles. The meteor shower is supposed to start any minute, but I’d be okay with missing the whole thing if I get to stare at her like this.
A burst of light streaks across the sky, and I take one last deep breath of her before gently shaking her.“Hey. Wake up, Rosebud. The show’s starting.”
Her sleepy little “Hmm?” makes me smile so wide it almost hurts.
“The meteor shower. It’s starting. I don’t want you to miss it.”
“Oh.” Her eyelids pop open in time to catch another streak across the sky, and her little gasp rolls through me. “Oh my god, Bash, look! It’s so beautiful.”
“It is,” I say, but I’m not looking at the sky. While she stares up at the stars in open-mouthed wonder, I’m watching her. The urge to tell her how I feel hits me hard, but I keep the words inside.
We may only be sixteen, but I’m not stupid. Indigo Bloom isn’t a summer fling. She’s not some teenage crush. Indie is a forever kind of love, and I’m determined to wait until the time is right to confess my feelings. I need to be strategic. I need to play the game to win.
Another meteor illuminates the sky as if to tell me it agrees.
Indie never takes her head off my shoulder.
“Come on,sleepyhead. You never were good at staying up late.”
“I resent that,” she grumbles.
Lola chuckles. “He’s not wrong, boo.”
“Shut it, Lols.”
“So grumpy when you’re tired,” I tease. My friends try to stifle their amusement as they slide out of the booth to let us out.
“Don’t worry, Indie, Lexi gets grumpy when she’s tired, too,” Ryder offers.
“Freaking hockey players.” Indie rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling.
The ladies hug Lola and Indie, extracting promises they’ll join them for a girls’ night soon, and my teammates give fist bumps and hugs, telling them both how nice it was to meet them.
They each give me pointed looks before I escort Indie and Lola out of Chasers, to my car, and home to their little rental.
They don’t need to say anything. I know exactly what they’re thinking.
I’m screwed. Hopelessly and completely screwed. Because Indie owned my heart ten years ago, and I don’t think I ever managed to take it back.
thirteen
INDIGO
When my phone buzzes,I expect to see a text from Sebastian coming through. We’ve spent the last week texting regularly. The team had a few days’ break, but there’s not much of a gap between the regular season and the postseason in the NHL. They won the first two playoff games against the wildcard winners, the Denver Stags, here at home, so three days ago they hopped on a plane to play games three and four.
They won game three and, if they win tonight, they’ll clinch the series and move on. If they lose, they’ll be back in Minneapolis for game five.
But when my phone keeps buzzing, I look away from my laptop with a frown.
It’s not a text from Sebastian. It’s a call from my mom.
Sucking in a deep breath and steeling myself for the inevitable drama that always comes with a phone call with one of my parents during this divorce, I hit the accept button and force cheer into my voice. “Hey, Mom.”
“Indigo. It’s been too long since we’ve spoken, sweetie.” My mom sounds vaguely out of breath, and I’m not sure I want to know why.
“I called you last week.”