Page 84 of Unforgettable Player

That door I broke down at the movies threatens to open again the second I’m hit with the comforting smell of his cologne. The warmth of his skin, radiating off him, wrapping me in a blanket. I want to bury my face in his chest and let him stroke my hair. I want to tilt my face and kiss him, experience what it feels like to have his lips on mine again.

I realize a little too late that he’s dropped his arms and I probably should have stopped hugging him at least thirty seconds ago.

Someone clears their throat. When I turn to look a Scout, she’s narrowing her eyes at me suspiciously.

“Scout, what do you think?” Naomi asks, thankfully taking her attention away from me. “You’ll be seeing him around a lot more, I’m sure.”

Scout turns to her mom before turning back to Connor, “Just don’t cramp my style.”

Naomi rolls her eyes, but she’s laughing.

“And don’t steal Eli.”

Connor freezes and I flinch.

The rest of dinner is taken up with all the questions Naomi and Richard have for Connor.

“There’s more news,” he adds once they’re done asking questions.

My heart rate picks up again and I can’t look in his direction.

“I was scouted by someone from the ECHL. They wanna talk to me after graduation about a contract.”

Naomi squeals.

“It’s just minor league, Mom.”

“So what?” Richard says.

Connor glances down at his plate before placing his fork on his napkin. “I know it’s not what we always imagined for my career.”

Naomi reaches across the table and puts her hand on her son’s. “Connor, the only thing we imagined for you kids growing up was that you’d be happy. We only wanted the NHL for you because that’s what you wanted.”

He looks like he’s going to cry. I wish I could go to him. Put my arms around him again. Hold his hand like Naomi is. It feels like something I should be able to do.

It’s so shit being in the same room as him and not being able to touch him or even really look at him. This is the right thing to do. So why does it feel so wrong?

After dinner, Scout and I retreat to her room while Connor helps their parents clean up. Luckily, Scout’s in the kind of mood where she’s happy to mostly talk to herself while I nod and hum in the right places. She paints her nails an awful shade of blue while we re-watch the rest of season one of The X-Files. The obvious tension between Mulder and Scully usually has me internally kicking my feet, but right now, it only stresses me out. They made us wait seven whole seasons before they got together and then they didn’t even let us enjoy it for very long. What the fuck is that about?

“Hey, that was weird downstairs,” Scout says, putting the final coat on her ugly, blue nails.

“What?”

“That hug. You were about five seconds away from sniffing his t-shirt.” She leans back to assess her handiwork before screwing the top back on the bottle. “Thought you didn’t have a crush on my idiot brother.”

“Connor isn’t an idiot. You should stop saying that.”

She cuts me a look that could curdle milk. “Seriously, Eli? Still?”

“Still what?”

“The stupid crush.”

That antsy discomfort I’ve been feeling since we were at the movies bubbles over. I stand.

“Just drop it, okay?”

She blinks hard at me. “Jesus, what’s got into you?”