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“What?” I checked the mirrors. Was there something in the road? My pulse raced. “What is it, Audrey?”
“You can’t go to a rage room. Ugh.” She covered her face with her hands, groaning. “It’s not worth the potential injury. God, I’m the worst. No, let’s turn around.”
“No, it’s totally alright. I’ll behave.”
“Coach Reiner would be appalled. You can’t get injured before senior year, not before you head to the Acorns.”
“Injuries can happen at any time,” I said, the temperature cooling in the car. I might as well have dumped ice water all over us. The warmth and attraction fizzled out as fast as blowing out a candle. Why had I said that? Why?
“I, uh, that’s why I’m finishing my degree in nursing, so if I do have to quit hockey early for any reason, I’ll have another career path. I’m not afraid of injuries as much as others.”
“Yeah, that’s a good plan. Smart.” She stared out the window before adjusting her legs again. “Could I try to convince you to go somewhere else? I’d never forgive myself if you even tweaked a finger.”
“Nah, you were too excited talking about it. Worst case, I can watch you.”
“No! This is for you. A diversion from the ICU and home, you know, to get you out of your head for a little bit. I’m okay.”
“Being around you is a distraction for me, Auds,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. I probably shouldn’t have said that. It showed too much. I ran a hand over my jaw, the regret itching to get out, and I changed the song to some upbeat punk cover. “Anyway?—"
“What does that mean? I can’t tell if you’re being nice or insinuating something more. Not that you would. You know what? That was stupid of me to ask. I shouldn’t have. You would never. Okay, yeah turn around and let me out, please.”
“You’re kinda cute when you’re nervous.” I smiled, the tension around my shoulder easing. Audrey rambled like I made her nervous, and it felt good to know I wasn’t the only one feeling something here. “And a part of me did mean it that way. You’re easy to be around, and I’m enjoying learning about you. So yeah, I would insinuate more.”
“You can’t say that to me.”
“And why not?”
“Because.”
“Oh, is that all?” I teased, checking the left lane before passing a slow car. We were about ten minutes from the rage room, and I’d make sure we saw this thing through. “Great closing argument. You should be a lawyer.”
She snorted. “I hate when you’re funny. It makes it harder to keep some distance between us. That’s my reason, Sanders.”
Did I want her keeping distance between us? Nope. I didn’t. “Just to make sure I’m hearing you, Auds, you want me to be less funny because you find me so charming and hot that when I make you laugh you have to stop yourself from attacking my mouth?”
“Theo!” She swatted my arm, her brilliant laughter filling the cab of my truck.
My god, I fucking loved that laugh.
“That is not what I said, and you know it. Ugh, you’re such a pain in the ass.” She said the words with a smile on her face, and I grinned into my fist.
I wasn’t sure what I wanted from Audrey and wasn’t sure I’d ever figure it out, but right now? There was no other person I wanted to be around, and I’d just enjoy that feeling.
“Fuck yes! Take that!” Audrey swung a bat over her head and crashed it onto an old television set. The metal cracked, and glass broke into pieces on the floor, the sounds echoing in the large warehouse. “Fuck you.”
She hit it again, her eyes wild beneath the goggles. Maybe Audrey needed this release more than me because she was addicting to watch. All those feelings she kept locked up tight exploded around her in colors, and she was a piece of art. Call me ridiculous, but watching Audrey Hawthorne beat the shit out of old electronics was magical and sexy.
“People suck,” she yelled, then picked up an old school phone and tossed it across the room until it slammed into the wall. “Theo,” she said, her voice breathless. Her chest heaved as she smiled at me, and I swore something shifted in my chest at that grin.
“What, Auds?”
“Try it. It’s euphoric.” She handed me an old monitor and pointed to the wall. “Don’t overextend yourself but toss it. Make it hurt.”
“You’re a little evil.” I winked. “I like it though.” I took the device and tossed it, and fuuuuck that felt good. Wrong and therapeutic. I’d been a rule follower for so damn long that destroying something lit a fire in me.
An emotional fire.
Why did my mom have to have a stroke and not my dad?
