Why else would he universally cancel training and drag every student athlete to the worst corner of campus?
This building is where all the coaches lurk and plot how to make us all miserable. When I posted a picture this morning that saidjust enjoy where you are now, I didn’t realize where I was going to be was a huge line of students trying to get into the awards room.
I’m lost in angry, borderline murderous thoughts when two muscular arms wrap around my waist from behind, and I feel lips press gently against the crown of my head. Instantly knowing it’s Ryan, I settle into his embrace and tilt my head back to look at him. He moves to peck a kiss to my forehead, and sure, I might feel a little better. “Hey, beautiful girl.”
“I’m stressed,” I grumble, looking ahead to watch the line shuffle along. “And you’re cutting in line. You’re going to get into trouble.”
Gripping my shoulders, he spins me around to face him. His long finger nudging under my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gigantic height. When I think he can’t be any freaking cuter, he brushes my hair from my face and smiles at me. “You control the planner, Stas. The planner doesn’t control you.”
“You’re still cutting in line.”
He chuckles, shrugging. “You were holding my spot for me. That’s what I told everyone I pushed past. Come on, what sickeningly motivational quote did you post today? Do we need to revisit it?”
Ryan and I started hooking up last year when we met at a party and were beer pong partners. Naturally, we won because we’re the most stubborn and competitive people within a hundred-mile radius of Maple Hills. The next day he slid into my DMs, joking he wasn’t expecting to find someone who plays drinking games so aggressively preaching aboutpositive vibes onlyon their social media pages.
Since then, whenever I’m grumpy or fed up, he reminds me I’m supposed to be a ray of sunshine.
Dick.
“Well?” he asks, guiding me along as we get closer to the entrance.
“It was about stopping to enjoy the moment you’re in.”
His smile widens when he realizes he’s got me. “Okay, yeah, I can work with that. It sucks practice was canceled,but, if you enjoy the moment, you’re hanging out with me and I’m great.”
Folding my arms across my chest, I try my hardest to stop the smile trying to break through, continuing to pretend he’s not having a blind bit of impact on my mood. “Hmm.”
“Tough crowd,jeez. As soon as we get out of here, I’ll take you for food, and later, there’s a hockey party we can hit to let you blow off all your stress-y energy.”
“What else?” I let him spin me back around now we’re only a few people away from finally getting into the room, and his hands stay on my shoulders.
“I’ll take you home and let you take out any remaining stress on my body?”
“With a bat?”
His fingers sink into my tense muscles, rhythmically working out every knot as I roll my head side to side. “Kinky. Will you dress up as Harley Quinn too?”
He grunts loudly as my elbow sinks into his ribs, which is ridiculously dramatic, because my elbow is definitely hurting more.
After what feels like a lifetime of waiting, we finally make it through the entrance to the awards room. Instead of normal round tables, the room has row upon row of chairs all facing the stage.
What the hell is going on?
Ignoring my immediate concern, Ryan insists I enjoy the moment,which roughly translates to me being forced to sit with the basketball team. So now I’m wedged between Ryan and Mason Wright, his teammate, who make my respectable five-foot-four-inch body look like one of an overgrown toddler.
“Chip?”
I struggle to look at the bag of Lays being shoved under my nose, but they smell like barbeque flavor, which Ryan knows is my favorite. “I’m good, thanks.”
He leans forward to dig in the bag at his feet, rustling loudly, not caring people are staring at us. Throwing himself back into his seat with a huff, he holds out a packet. “Cookie?”
“No, thank you. I’m not hungry.” I’m trying not to draw attention to us again, but it’s hard to ignore the look of disappointment on his face. “Don’t look at me like that. Regionals are right around the corner; I can’t gain weight.”
Ryan slouches in his seat so our heads are level, and he leans in to give us more privacy. His breath dances across my skin as his lips hover beneath my ear, sending a wave of goose bumps across my entire body.
“As someone who throws you around quite a lot, I feel like I’m qualified to say this: if that jackass isn’t able to cope if your weight fluctuates a few pounds, which is perfectly normal by the way, he shouldn’t be your partner.”
“We’re not having this conversation again, Ryan.”