Page 48 of Strange Love

Walking to study hall, I can’t wipe the goofy grin off my face as I think about how perfect it felt with him like we were meant to be together. Today, I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve, and everyone can see it through my love-struck eyes and blissful smile.

As I stroll down the crowded hallway, my classmates’ voices fill my ears. Some call out friendly greetings, while others barely acknowledge my presence. It’s a strange feeling to be known but not liked for who I truly am. My relationship with Corey is a façade, carefully constructed to keep me in the popular crowd. If anyone discovers the truth, I’ll once again become an outcast, and this time it will hurt more because they’ll see how desperate I am for someone like Corey to pretend to date me. Despite all this, I can’t help but think about our moments together; they seem genuine. I’ve consciously decided not to overthink or analyze those feelings today. Instead, I’m going to enjoy them while they last.

I’m walking towards the library when a sudden burst of energy lifts me off my feet from behind, and I let out a surprised squeal. I see Corey’s familiar smiling face, his strong arms securely holding me. A warmth spreads through my body at the sight of him.

“Hey there, Ivy Girl,” he greets me with his usual charm. “Heading to the library?”

“Yep. I’ve got study hall, so I’m trying to finish some work.”

Without hesitation, Corey offers to walk me over, taking my books in one hand while his other hand grasps mine. His long legs and confident strides make it hard for me to keep up as we go to the library together.

Abruptly, Corey’s strides come to a halt as he turns to face me. His gaze is steady and piercing, his voice calm and measured.

“Don’t do that,” he says firmly.

“Do what?” I feign innocence.

“Don’t walk behind me,” he clarifies. A pang of guilt washes over me as I realize he’s caught on to my habit of trying to blend into the background. Before I can respond, he continues. “Ivy, you do that sometimes. You try to make yourself small and invisible, so no one will notice you. If anyone in this school should be noticed, it’s you, Ivy Owens. You’re beautiful, smart, kind, and tougher than anyone I’ve ever met.” My cheeks heat with embarrassment at his words.

“So from now on, I want you to walk with your head held high. Whether you’re with me or Sascha or anyone else, but especially me,” he emphasizes. “Walk next to me like my girlfriend.” The way he says it makes my heart flutter, and a smile spreads across my face as I take his outstretched hand and step by his side, absorbing every little bit of his warmth like sunshine on my face.

Despite the occasional lingering stares, it appears that people are beginning to accept that the celebrated hockey God has found himself a girlfriend. Of course, whispers and snide remarks likely occur behind closed doors, but at least to my face, they appear tolerant and accepting.

We walk by as their curious gazes trail after us, trying to piece together how an average girl like me could have captured the heart of such a revered player. It’s as though we’re living in a fishbowl, constantly under scrutiny and speculation from others. I don’t enjoy it, but with each passing day, the walls of judgment slowly melt away.

Corey walks me into the library and sets my heavy stack of books down on a large table before turning to pull me in for a warm hug, lifting me to my tiptoes with ease. His muscular arms wrap around my body, causing me to melt into his embrace. I bury my face into the soft shoulder of his sweatshirt and inhale, taking in the comforting scent of his cologne mixed with hints of musk and woodsy notes.

He sets me gently back down on my feet and leans in for a chaste kiss on my lips. His words come out hopeful as he invites me to his hockey game on Saturday.

“I have a hockey game,” he says, "and I’d like you to come.” He smiles before adding, “And your family, too, if you’re comfortable, but even if they can’t make it, I still want you to come.”

The excitement in his voice is palpable, making me blush, and my heart flutters at the thought of spending more time with him outside school.

Chapter 27

“Playing With The Boys”

Corey - Age 18, 1988

My body is like a coiled spring, buzzing with anticipation and energy. Every nerve ending is tingling, ready for the adrenaline rush before a game. Today, there’s an added layer of excitement. The thought of Ivy, and perhaps even her family, being in the stands adds a jolt of electricity to my already energized state. It’s like standing on the edge of a cliff, knowing that at any moment, I could fall, and I’m exhilarated by the thrill of it all. This game will be different, and I can’t wait for it to unfold with Ivy watching.

Adding to my anxious state is that Taz isn’t here yet. He missed our team meeting earlier this morning and warm-ups meaning he won’t be in the starting lineup today. Lately, something has been off with him. During practice, he’s been distant and distracted and missing more and more school. I know his dad has been traveling for work, leaving his older brother to care for him, but Taz’s brother is more interested in partying than responsibility. I worry that some of that reckless behavior might be influencing Taz. He’s always enjoyed a good party and downtime, but too much unsupervised time can lead him down a dangerous path.

We’re only minutes away from taking the ice for warm-ups. Coach’s office is a flurry of movement and noise, with him pacing back and forth, yelling into the phone before slamming it down in frustration. I knock on his door, ready to take the brunt of his frustration as he barks for me to enter.

“Coach,” I begin, “I think I might have an idea for finding Taz. Can I use your phone?” The tension in the room is palpable as Coach stares me down, his intense gaze burning a hole through my chest. Finally, he sighs and gestures towards the rotary phone on his cluttered desk.

“I hope to hell you can get it done, Delzy,” he mutters before storming out of his office and slamming the door behind him, leaving me alone in his cluttered office. I take a deep breath and reach for the phone, dialing Ivy’s number. After three rings, her rushed voice answers on the other end.

“Hello?” she says, and my chest warms at the sound of her voice. I’m so gone for this girl.

“Hey, Ivy Girl,” I greet her with a smile. Her name rolls off my tongue like honey, sweet and familiar.

“Corey! What are you doing calling me? Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready to play?” she asks, with a hint of panic.

“I am,” I reply. “Are you just about on your way?”

“We are!” she replies eagerly. “Mom and Dad are waiting for me in the car.”