Page 45 of Ice Me Out

“Hey, Luke. What’s up?” she asked, sticking her head through the door.

“Hey, Vera? Can I come in? I want to talk to you about something.”

“No, it’s kinda late, and I plan on turning in soon. Can this wait?”

“I just have to get something off my chest,” he pushed back.

“Okay, you have two minutes,” she said, stepping outside and closing the door behind her. My nosy ass pressed my ear to the door, and I could hear Ms. Kelly telling me she’d never seen a child so damn nosy.

I guess I never grew out of it.

“It’s cold out here, Luke. Say what you have to say.”

“That’s why I wanted to come inside, but you’re acting weird,” he argued gently.

Trust me. You’re better off out there in the cold than in here with me.

“Luke,” Vera replied firmly.

“Fine. Are we good?”

“Last time I checked, we were. Why?”

“I don’t know. That comment earlier about how your life doesn’t revolve around me was a little…”

“Bitchy,” she finished for him.

“I didn’t want to say it, but yeah.”

“You’re perceiving my words as bitchy because you don’t appreciate the rejection. Is there anything else?”

“Tell him again,” I whispered.

“Why can’t we be anything more than friends?”

Benchwarmer is trying to get his feelings hurt. I haven’t known Vera for very long, but even I know better than to ask her a question like that unless I want my heart ripped out.

“Because I don’t want to be anything more than friends. I was very clear about that before we started messing around. And you know that arrangement ended because you caught feelings.”

“I know you didn’t want to date because you said you wanted to focus on your senior year, but I’ve been talking to my agent, and there are some NHL teams that want to pick me up and—”

“Let me stop you right there, Luke. I do not want to tie myself to a rookie NHL player with a couple of million dollars in his back pocket. That’s a fucking recipe for disaster. I’m not following you across country, I’m not fighting wannabe WAGs in the stadium parking lot over you, and I’m not going to be your trophy wife. Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”

Got damn.

“Fuck, Vera. Who hurt you?” Luke asked, his voice thick with emotion.

“Goodnight, Luke,” she responded. I backed away from the door when the conversation seemed over and barely avoided being hit by it. She closed the door behind her, leaned against it, and sighed.

“Say what you have to say because I know you heard every word.”

“No, I didn’t,” I lied.

“Hartford—”

“Don’t do that, Verydian,” I said sternly.

She grinned widely.