Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 472(@200wpm)___ 377(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Miller starts choking on his drink, and Coke comes out his nose. Talon playfully pats him on the back with a laugh.
During the break, Ollie leans back in his seat, no longer jumping up every two seconds to yell at the ice.
His arm goes around the back of my chair. “Are you okay? You seem like you’re not really here.”
Damn it. I was hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“It’s hockey, what do you expect?” I try to deflect, because I know he’s right. I’m nervous about telling him I’m staying in New York. Not only that, but I turned down my dream job for him. That’s a lot this soon, right?
God, did I make the right decision?
One look at him, and I know I did, but what if he’s not there yet? Awkward.
He stares at me as if trying to decipher something or work something out, and I’m wondering if it’s written all over my face.
Jet taps me on the shoulder. “Uh, guys.” He points up to the screen where the kiss cam is on. And it’s aimed at me and Ollie.
Fuck.
The game announcer says something about a special request from Caleb Sorensen to make Ollie kiss the nearest boy.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Ollie mutters.
“Umm …” I must look horrified because Ollie’s expression softens.
The crowd, surprisingly, appears encouraging. Well, there’s no booing I can hear, at least. That’s something.
“We don’t have to,” Ollie says. “You’re not ready for everyone to know and—”
I swallow hard and go for it, because I won’t even be working in journalism anymore. Not really. And Sports Illustrated has already said they don’t care if I’m with Ollie. We don’t have to hide.
Our mouths meet, and the arena breaks out into hollers and applause.
It’s probably the most surreal moment of my life.
I wish it was one of those times like in a shitty rom-com movie where the world fades away, and it’s just me and him and love and all that shit, but no. I can’t get past nerdy Lennon kissing a jock in front of sixteen thousand people. And they’re cheering.
Yes, folks, I finally got my shit together. Thanks for the encouragement.
The kiss is brief and PG-rated—I feel only the barest flick of Ollie’s tongue against my lips—and when Ollie pulls away, the kiss cam’s moved on to other people.
Ollie stares at me dumbfounded. “You didn’t have to do that. You’ve probably thrust yourself into the media spotlight.”
“I, umm, have something to tell you.”
“What?”
“I got a job. In New York.” I mumble the next part. “With the Dragons.”
His brow furrows. “Huh?”
As if I had my very own spidey senses, I know everyone in our group is eavesdropping right now.
“Ava wants help in the PR department. She wants someone to write press releases and manage the social media accounts and basically write fluff for the team.”
“But … you’re a journalist. You write stories and articles, not fluff.”
I swallow hard. “Right, but the job’s here.” With you. I fumble over those words and can’t get them out.
“You turned down Sports Illustrated?” Noah asks.
And fuck, I knew there was a reason I should’ve been bothered about them listening in. He’s the only one I’ve told.
Ollie’s face lights up. “Sports Illustrated? You got offered a job with Sports Illustrated? That’s amazing.”
“That job’s in L.A.,” I say.
The excitement from a second ago disappears, and he responds the exact same way I did to the offer. “Oh …”
“I turned it down and accepted the job with Ava.”
Ollie blinks rapidly. “I’m going to ask this very slowly, because I need to know. Did you … I mean, did you turn it down … for me?”
“Fucking duh,” Jet says beside me. “And people say I can be oblivious.”
“Yes?” I don’t mean for it to come out as a question.
“Are you asking me or telling me?” Ollie asks.
“Telling you. I turned it down. For you. So I could stay in New York. For you.”
He doesn’t tear his gaze away but doesn’t say anything either, not even when the next period starts and the players take to the ice once again.
“You … and you … but you …”
I want to laugh, but I’m too scared to. “It’s too much? It’s too much. Never mind. I’ll get a job somewhere else. I don’t have to work for the Dragons.”
“Too much?” Ollie asks, his tone soft. “Are you kidding me? It’s everything. Part of me is telling me I don’t deserve it. I … I lo—” His mouth slams shut. “Are you sure? You didn’t want to compromise my career for you, so why do you get to do it for me?”
“It’s completely different. I’d be miserable in L.A. knowing you were back here.”
“We could make it work, and—”
I shake my head. “No. It’d be too hard. And I’m not really compromising anything. Sports Illustrated still wants me to write freelance for them, and actually, they want me to write your coming out article. And Soren’s. They also want me to do an article on Matt.”