Page 9 of Final Score

During the day Kat pretends to not be haunted by the past, though it so clearly follows her every move. But here in the darkness, she looks peaceful. Determined to protect her, I make a promise.

“Your ex was an idiot. You deserve better, Kat. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe and happy. Even if you don’t want to let me.”

CHAPTER 7

The first thing I noticed was the smell. Clean and dark, a mixture of pine, citrus, and bourbon. I roll nestling further underneath thick blankets and pillows. Searching for the source of the delicious scent. The comfort is fleeting as my eyes shoot open. Broken memories from the night before filling my brain.

The breakup, the party. Too many shots of tequila, which explained the construction crew trying to put my brain back together. Laughing with Fallon, meeting Oliver, seeing Jenner… then everything gets fuzzy.

Groaning, I look around the unfamiliar room. Every inch of the dark navy walls were covered in hockey gear, photos, and random memorabilia. A wooden antique desk sat in the corner, organized neatly for school, my dress, purse and shoes neatly folded in the center. The entire room was spotless. Not a single thing was out of place, which was unusual for a boy in his early twenties.

The second thing I notice is Jenner. Fast asleep sitting up in the leather chair that belonged at his desk. He couldn’t have been comfortable. His head was falling off the back of the chair, arms hanging over the sides, as he slouched uncomfortably, trying to create as much room for his long as possible. His hair was a mess, and he was shirtless. Dressed in only grey sweatpants and a large cream-colored Sherpa blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Yum. If he was anyone else, I’d be all over him.

A glass of cold water and a bottle of aspirin sat on the end table next to the bed, with a note addressed to Kit Kat. Rolling my eyes at the childhood nickname, I unfold the small piece of paper, squinting in the darkness to make out the words.

Take two pills and small sips of water.

P.S: Don’t kill me in my sleep

I take the pills before crawling to the edge of the bed. I’m wearing nothing but his t-shirt and my red lace thong. Lovely. I pull the shirt over my head and once again I’m hit with his scent. Forget the fact that he’s incredibly good looking. That alone is enough to make any girl weak in the knees. No wonder he’s with a different girl every few days.

I pull the dress up over my hips, wishing I had something more comfortable to go home in. When I hear the chair move. Pausing, I turn in his direction. He’s watching me with lust filled eyes, looking like he wants to take a bite out of my ass, as a slow whistle leaves his lips.

“Damn, that’s one hell of a sight to wake up to.”

“Oh, shut up.” I answer, throwing a heel at his head which he catches easily.

“Well aren’t you just a ray of sunshine in the morning?”

Years of hockey had done wonders for his body. Arms stretched above his head, the blanket falls from his shoulders, giving me a full view of his abs and a v shape, I want to trace with my tongue, as his sweatpants hang dangerously low across his hips.

“I’ve got a hangover from hell.” I mumble, pulling the dress all the way on.

Jenner moves, standing behind me. He’s too close for comfort. The edge of the desk digs into my hip bones and my back rests against his chest. I can feel his breath on my neck as his knuckles brush down my spine. He zips the back of my dress before speaking.

“There’s a simple way to fix that.”

“Oh?” I ask.

I feel him nod against my hair before he takes a step back. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

I grip the edge of the desk, as if it’ll keep me from afloat under the wave of emotion that washes over me.. Jenner retreats to the closet before returning with a sweatshirt in his hand. “Put this on. We don’t want you getting cold.”

I slip the sweatshirt over my head, welcoming the warmth. I look at Jenner’s back, studying his tattoos. It looked like they split him in half, two sides waging war across his back and broad shoulders. The left side of his body was covered in ice, the right side in flames. Across his shoulder blades, his last name inked forever into his skin. Underneath, breaking free from the ice, was a hockey player. On the opposite side was a firefighter fighting the flames that licked up the lower half of his back. In the middle of his back was half of the Devil’s hockey logo and half of the San Diego Firefighter emblem. A C was inked underneath his left shoulder blade, and 117 inked under his right.

My breath caught at the sight. Station 117… My father’s old firehouse. I knew his tattoo represented two halves of the same person. Two paths he could have taken in life. One for family, the other for himself. Tears stung my eyelids, threatening to spill over, as I watched the numbers disappear beneath his t-shirt.

“Pancakes?” I ask as we pull into a parking spot outside the local cafe.

“Yes, greasy food will cure that hangover of yours. Coffee will help with the bitchiness.”

“I’m not bitchy.” I respond. My words lost, and muffled as Jenner jumps out of the car, closing the door behind him.

Twirling his keys in one hand, Jenner leans against the hood of his black dodge charger waiting for me to exit. So much for chivalry. I ought to sit here a little longer out of spite, but as the smell of pancakes causes my stomach grumble. Fine, he wins - this time.

“Why didn’t Fallon and Oliver come with us?” I ask as we walk into the cafe. The door chiming above my head.

“Because we need to talk about last night.” Jenner answers, smiling at the hostess before holding up two fingers.