They shoot, but the goalie ends up stopping the puck, and the play is called to end. I sigh as the feed goes to commercial and think about seeing Asher yesterday. For a split second I wonder if his fight may be available to watch.
Suddenly I’m switching over to search his name, something I haven’t even thought to do before now.
Asher Hudson brings up several results, most of them are articles on fights, video highlights, and a website that I click on that leads to a gym called Uncaged. It’s in Seaside, Oregon. There are some pictures that look like they were taken at the gym, and Asher is in them but he’s never looking at the camera. He’s focused with his hands wrapped and looks to be punching a bag.
“What’re you looking at?” Becca asks, leaning over to look at my screen.
I jump, knocking my headphones off my head since I wasn’t listening to anything right now anyway.
“Nothing.” I swipe away from the website and pull up the hockey game that’s back on.
“I heard you had a visitor last night, and it obviously wasn’t Grayson,” she comments.
“Yeah, just an old friend I haven’t seen in years.” I shrug, trying to focus back on the game, but it’s a lot of back and forth right now while the teams compete for possession of the puck.
“An actual friend or a Grayson type of friend?” she hedges.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Come on, Rae. Everyone knows that man is head over heels for you. And you’re pretty obvious yourself.”
I sink lower in the plane seat, pulling my tablet closer to my face to try and hide my blush. One thing about being a redhead is that my face flames so easily. I hate it because it makes it very difficult to hide any and all embarrassment.
“Yeah, we can just go ahead and refer to a bunch of your songs. If you want me to reference some of your lyrics I can?—”
“No!” I exclaim. “I just write stories in my music, they don’t necessarily mean anything.”
“Right, so you’re telling me you’veneverwritten a song about him?”
I scrunch my mouth tightly, shaking my head and make a humming noise.
Becca chuckles. “You’re such a bad liar, but okay, whatever you say.”
I’ll never say any of my songs areaboutGrayson. Did he inspire some of them? Possibly, but I won’t admit it. Lots of things and people in my life have inspired songs. We’re just friends and that’s how it should stay because if it didn’t work out then I would lose him. And I’d rather have him as a friend than not have him at all.
Even if the thought of him ending up with someone else has my heart hurting in my chest.
The camera filming the game pans over to the bench where I see him leaning against the boards and can feel the small smile on my face at the sight of him. His dirty blonde hair peaks out under his helmet. His green eyes aren’t looking directly at the camera, but I have them memorized. He doesn’t wear his glasses while he plays, but I love seeing him relax with the wire rims resting on his nose.
My oldest friend, and the one person I don’t think I could live without. While the idea of being more is appealing, I know Grayson Wheeler and I will forever need to remain friends.
CHAPTER 4
Grayson
Holding onto the edge of the tub, I lower myself into the ice bath quickly. Every single muscle on my body tightens as I grit my teeth through the freezing cold. You’d think being a hockey player on ice all the time I’d be accustomed to the cold. But it’s amazing how hot it actually can be while playing. Between all the gear, and the sheer energy it takes to skate and play the game, I’m not cold for even a second.
Not like this. I breathe through my nose until I can’t take it anymore and pull myself out. I have such a love-hate relationship with that freaking ice bath. But apparently, it’s good for me so I’ll continue to do it.
I’m about to go thaw myself out when I hear my phone going off. Looking at the screen, I’m not sure who I expect to see calling, but I’m not surprised at all to see it’s my mom. I can’t help the pang of disappointment that it isn’t Rae. She’s supposed to be coming back to Denver tomorrow for her final show, and I can’t wait to see her.
“Hey mom,” I greet, pulling on my clothes to stop my teeth from chattering, I know she’ll get on me and probably come over to turn up my heater herself and refuse to leave. I love my parents, but it’s no questionthat they can be a lot.
“Why are your teeth chattering?” she asks immediately and I roll my eyes at my failed attempt to hide it.
“I just did an ice bath, I’m fine.” I sigh.
“Do you need me to bring you some fuzzy socks?”