Page 20 of Butterfly
“Hey,” I say, with another laugh. “It’s not that bad.”
“It is. It’s really that bad.”
I have no choice but to nod. It’s not the prettiest thing, that’s for sure. It was supposed to look intimidating, like my face was sitting in the mouth of a vicious snake, but I didn’t have themoney needed to hire the guy Gilly uses, so I settled for someone else. What I got for the small amount of money I paid was a friendly looking snake face with what’s almost a smile curling around the cage that protects my cheeks and eyes from the pucks.
I pull over to the side of the road in front of the nearest campus residence hall. Mass U has a bunch of them tucked around the campus, but this is the closest one to the road we’re on. “Here okay?”
Shiloh nods then undoes his seat belt, but he makes no move to get out of the vehicle. We sit in silence for a few moments until the look of disgust he had on his face after the game floats into my mind. “I’m sorry we lost. That’s a shitty first game to have to sit through.”
“What?”
“After the game you looked like… I don’t know… like you were pissed off or something. I’m sorry we lost, that’s all. I can’t do much when everything falls apart in front of me, but I could have tried harder.”
“I don’t give a shit about hockey,” he says, staring at me with an incredulous look on his face. “Your hat-mask-thing is horrible. You need to burn it. Immediately.”
I let loose a surprised laugh. “You were staring at my mask.”
“It’s so bad it was distracting me from watching you. That’s impressively bad, Donovan.”
“I have a blank helmet in my closet. I just haven’t found time to connect with a guy who knows what he’s doing with a goalie mask.”
“You should have Godzilla on it.” He pauses. “What’s with that, anyway? I saw the posters when Iwasn’tbreaking into your apartment.”
I snort a laugh, shaking my head as he smirks. I am a bit startled at how clearly I’m seen by him, though. “My mom. Sheloved those cheesy old monster movies so much, and I grew up watching them with her. Godzilla, mostly. Mothra is… was her favorite, though. Beautiful wings, y’know?”
Shiloh hums under his breath thoughtfully, then reaches into the pocket of the hoodie, pulling out a cell phone. He grabs mine from the center console and holds it up with the screen facing me. “Unlock.”
I huff a small laugh, then press my finger against the sensor, watching as the phone unlocks to reveal a picture of Oakley and me on draft day, our brand new jerseys hanging off our bodies and smiles as wide as the moon on our faces. Shiloh turns the phone around and frowns at the image.
“That’s Oakley,” I offer. “My best friend.”
Shiloh says nothing, instead clicking around on the phone and pulling up my contact list. A few more moments go by as he taps away on the screen, then he hands the phone back to me.
I grin as I see the name he’s saved his number under. “California.”
“Send me a text,” he demands, holding up his own phone. I search through emojis until I find the perfect one, sending him a single palm tree. His phone pings and I swear his lips curl into a small smile for a split second before he shoves his phone in his pocket and reaches for the door handle.
“Thanks for the ride,” he says as he opens the door, letting the cold air trickle in. He’s about to slide off the seat when I take a chance and reach out, placing my hand on his arm. He startles at the contact, but recovers quickly, meeting my eyes in question.
“You don’t care about hockey?” I clarify.
“Not in the slightest.”
“Why did you come to the game, then?”
Shiloh looks at me like I’ve grown two heads. He pulls his arm away from my touch and slides off the seat, turning awayfrom the Jeep. For a split second, I don’t think I’m going to get an answer, but just before he closes the door behind him, he turns back, leans into the Jeep, and connects his beautiful gray eyes to mine.
“I didn’t come for the hockey game. I came for you, Donovan Myers.Justfor you.”
CHAPTER NINE
SHILOH
It’s easierto fixate on howatrociousDonovan’s helmet is than the way his eyes widened when I told him I’d come to the game for him.
I’m not sure what world exists where I ever gave him the impression that I was interested in hockey, but hopefully he has that out of his head now. I can’t exactly tell him that I’m interested in how pretty his blood would look on the snow… but…
Icando something about that fucking helmet. It looks like a toddler painted it. There’s no way I’ll be able to kill Donovan while the memory of that ridiculous snake on his face is there behind my eyes.
